


XCOM: The Atlas Protocol

by Xabiar



Category: XCOM: Enemy Within
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Invasion, Alien Technology, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autopsies, Blood, Espionage, Ethics, Experimentation, F/M, Human Experimentation, International Relations, Interrogation, Mild Gore, Military, Politics, Psionics, Soldiers, United Nations, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 560,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xabiar/pseuds/Xabiar
Summary: After the destruction of the dreadnought, tensions between XCOM and the Council are higher than ever. Despite growing opposition and oversight, the Commander doesn't hesitate to push humanity further into uncharted territory, as well as dealing with an ancient global conspiracy, and a growing number of countries looking to take advantage of an invasion that is only just beginning.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to post what I have here, since I've been cross-posting to Sufficient Velocity and Spacebattles and figured there was no reason to leave this off. Like the Hades Contingency, the full thing is on FF.net, though unlike the Hades Contingency, this story is still in progress. I'll post one chapter a day until caught up. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -Xabiar

 

This story is based on XCOM: Enemy Within with the Long War mod

***

This story may contain material some may find disturbing

***

This story is a sequel to XCOM: The Hades Contingency

***

I do not own any characters explicitly mentioned in XCOM: Enemy Unknown/Within/2

***

Beta Reader: Johnclaw Dragonhelm

***

Dramatis Personae

(Please note that not all characters are listed)

            The Commander -       Commander of the XCOM Project

            John Bradford -           Central Officer of XCOM Analysis and Communications

            Raymond Shen -          Head of XCOM Engineering

            Moira Vahlen -            Head of XCOM Research and Development

            Shaojie Zhang -           Director of XCOM Intelligence

            Peter Van Doorn -       Tactical Advisor to the Commander

            Abigail Gertrude -       XCOM Intelligence Agent

            Patricia Trask -            XCOM Squad Overseer

            Annette Durand -        EXALT Test Subject

            Patrick Rush -              United Nations Liaison

            Saudia Vyandar -         Director of EXALT

***

Synopsis of XCOM: The Hades Contingency

In December of 2014 the entire population of a small town in Florida went missing without a trace or explanation. Publically, the incident was covered up and silenced when a powerful subsection of United Nations, known only as the Council of Nations, quietly stepped in. The Council discovered that their worst fears were coming to pass, what had happened was the result of alien activity and that only meant one thing: An invasion was coming.

In response, the Council officially activated the XCOM Project, a secretive paramilitary organization created specifically in the event of an extraterrestrial invasion. Despite being more advanced than the militaries of Earth and composed of the best soldiers in the world, the Council knew that they would need someone to lead it. Someone who would do whatever to took to defend the human race.

One such person existed. Only known as the Commander, he’d been imprisoned by the United Nations for nearly a decade for war crimes committed in a crusade against terrorism. A brilliant, deadly and ruthless leader, the Council knew that he dangerous, but also knew he was their best chance to survive. His appointment wasn’t without conflict, but eventually the Council allowed the Commander to assume control of the XCOM Project on the condition that he would answer directly to the Council.

The Commander accepted and immediately began working to increase the military and technical strength of XCOM. The first few months involved multiple alien abductions which the Commander responded to by sending squads of soldiers to investigate, though despite their expertise, not even XCOM was able to keep their missions free of casualties. But with each successful mission, XCOM learned more from their technology and utilized that knowledge to its fullest potential.

Throughout this time, the Commander began working to implement an Intelligence division into XCOM, though time constraints and other responsibilities prevented him from doing so. The Council quickly learned that the Commander was not the obedient subordinate they had hoped as he flatly refused to supply the Council with alien technology recovered and further antagonized them when he refused to turn in Shaojie Zhang, a man wanted by the Council. Not only did he refuse to follow the directive, he appointed Zhang Director of the new Intelligence Division within XCOM without the Council’s knowledge.

Despite victories against the aliens on the ground, the extraterrestrial beings made their influence known in other ways. XCOM soon realized that Germany was targeted by the aliens for destabilization. Within weeks the country was whipped into a state of fear and the Commander had Zhang use his agents to determine the cause.

In anticipation for the worst, the Commander began making alliances with high-ranking German military leaders as well as gaining the support of non-Council nations such as Israel in exchange for alien technology to expand XCOM’s influence and authority.

After capturing several people responsible for the destabilization of Germany, they were interrogated and revealed that not only had the aliens been responsible, but the Council as well, though it appeared to have not been the original intention. Another mysterious organization was also identified, though the Commander only learned a name: EXALT.

The events in Germany culminated with the aliens attacking Hamburg and massacring thousands of civilians before XCOM was able to stop them, losing several more soldiers in the process. Fearing another attack, Germany withdrew from the Council and began negotiations with the aliens. In response, the Commander initiated the Hades Contingency, a final effort to ensure the country didn’t fall under alien control.

Despite the high civilian casualties, it succeeded and the Germany became an official ally of XCOM, much to the chagrin of the Council, some of whom made their opposition more public. In response, the Commander learned the name of a Councilor allied against him and paid the councilor a visit, threatening to expose his involvement in Germany if they continued interfering.

The following months involved a massive offensive against the alien forces where the Commander led XCOM to a string of several major victories against the invaders. Alien transports and UFOs were shot down and raided mercilessly, though the list of dead soldiers continued growing as well. In response to these victories, the aliens sent a dreadnaught to China with the intent to raze the city.

XCOM learned of the impending attack and quickly assembled a squad of their best soldiers. In coordination with the Chinese and Japanese military, they diverted the dreadnought and boarded the ship. Despite suffering heavy casualties, the XCOM soldiers crashed the dreadnought into a city. Removing the threat, but also killing almost a quarter of the population.

Realizing the Commander had been given too much autonomy, the Council sent a representative to reestablish their authority and ensure their will was known.  A week after the attack, an alien substance that had been recovered throughout the war was thoroughly researched and dubbed as MELD by the science and engineering divisions. The Commander immediately ordered then to begin work on implementing it into their arsenal. Meanwhile, the enigmatic organization known as EXALT prepares to move against XCOM, though not before gathering allies.

 

             

           


	2. Prologue: The Alliance

 

_The Bastion, Antarctica_

Saudia Vyandar stood in front of the small hologlobe resting on the conference table, the image slowly rotating on its axis.

It was rather incredible, she mused while watching the world spin, how much times had changed in such a relatively short span of time. The War on Terror had been the only recent event that had nearly given them the opening they needed to shatter the countries apart. It was unfortunate that it hadn’t worked out _quite_ like she hoped, but even their reach had limits.

Even so, she still wasn’t quite sure if she could count that event as a failed operation or if they simply hadn’t invested enough resources to begin with. The extent of their involvement had been planting agents within some of the terror cells and maneuvering them into positions of influence while encouraging the scattered cells to unite. They had enough ranking agents in the Saudi government to make funding the unification possible and were nearly untraceable thanks to EXALT’s shell companies and banks.

But after that initial investment…EXALT had quietly watched as the terrorists united better that they could have possibly hoped. It was unfortunate that truly organized fanatics were much rarer these days, as they were by far the best to work with. They were easily predictable, loyal, and genuinely believed they were fighting for some higher power.

Saudia smiled in derision as she reflected on that. Idiots, all of them. But useful idiots who, while probably not conquering the world as their god dictated, would have made enough of an impact that EXALT could begin making deeper inroads into the United Nations, America, Russia and China.

Of course, everything had gone downhill after the so-called “Commander” appeared pretty much out of nowhere. Solaris has told her that he was positive that the Commander had been an American special forces operative, which seemed to explain who was supporting him. Regardless, she had watched with rather morbid fascination as the Commander had proved himself every bit as ruthless and barbaric as the terrorists he was fighting.

But he’d proven to be a highly intelligent tactician as well, and she was fairly certain that his terror tactics were less of an innate sadism, and more like an accurate reading of what would have the most effect. Not that it made his version of warfare any less barbaric; if _she_ tried waging a war like that, there was no doubt the Families would remove her immediately, if not execute her.

True, there had been some discussion on becoming more involved after the massacre in the Caliphate’s capital. But she’d ultimately decided against it as another operation would accomplish nothing except to waste more resources. It was clear that the Caliphate weren’t going to advance into any civilized country, especially after the United Nations finally stepped in. Combined with the Commander, it was only a matter of time before the Caliphate would be finished.

To her though, it was slightly annoying that the Commander had been a little _too_ thorough in his victory. The destruction of Mecca, combined with the actions of the Caliphate as a whole, had essentially reduced the Islamic religion’s influence to a shadow of its former self. Unfortunately, it made the exploitation of Islamic-World relations an unwise use of resources, due to the reduced demographic.

So that had been a loss for sure. But one they could recover from, and they’d taken the opportunity to plant some more operatives within the United Nations. EXALT had known about the Council and the XCOM project for years, but quite honestly, never thought about investing too many resources into controlling it. The possibility of an alien invasion was a low one, especially with the state the world had been in.

Saudia shut off the hologlobe and walked away towards the window displaying the vast Antarctic wasteland. She inwardly sighed as she noted a snow picking up speed and whipping around with the wind. A storm. Great, just what she needed today.

She brushed her hair back and crossed her arms. Well, nothing she could do about that. Returning to her rumination, there _had_ been one thing out of the whole war that had come out in their favor. Once the war was over, the United Nations decided to hunt down the Commander and his soldiers. A sentiment she could understand, and had even considered sending some of her own to help them. But it had turned out to be unneeded as the Commander had unexpectedly surrendered.

Saudia had been honestly surprised. It showed a surprising degree of acceptance to do that, especially knowing that it was going to lead to execution. Which was probably why the Commander had also negotiated for the lives of his soldiers as well, thinking that the United Nations would hold to their word. And had that condition come from anyone _but_ the Commander, it likely would have been upheld.

But it turned out that even the United Nations had their limits, and sent most of the soldiers to the remaining Middle Eastern countries for “trial.” Which had given EXALT the perfect opportunity to gain some of the most skilled soldiers in the world. Extracting soldiers of that caliber from prisons across the world had been one of the more expensive operations in recent years, but she felt it was worth the cost. It hadn’t been hard to convince the men and woman imprisoned of the failings of the United Nations after their hypocrisy was exposed. EXALT hadn’t been able to extract _every_ soldier, sadly, but in the end EXALT had gained twenty elite soldiers from the Commander’s ranks.

One of them now her husband.

Extracting the Commander himself had been out of the question. But she had received numerous reports from multiple sources that he’d been executed. Perhaps it was for the best; she wasn’t sure she would have been able to trust the man to not make an attempt to remove her if he was dissatisfied with her leadership.

All that had led to almost a decade of relative peace where they’d worked planting agents, influencing events and expanding their reach further than ever. The continued globalism and interconnectivity only made things easier to spread their influence.

Then the aliens had invaded.

Although that term felt incorrect. This was less of an _invasion_ and more of an _incursion_. An invasion would have involved an army marching on Earth with the intent to conquer them. And while she had no illusions as to that being the alien’s ultimate goal, there weren’t here _just_ to conquer. They had something else in mind, given that they’d hadn’t publically revealed themselves until the Hamburg attack. She’d seen their technology, and it was far superior to their own.

If the aliens really wanted to, they could win this war within weeks. But instead they were holding back.

This gave EXALT the best opportunity in decades.

This invasion would be a catalyst for the direction humanity wished to take. They would either unite as one species and defeat the scourge coming to take their world, or they would collapse and the aliens would scatter them to the winds.

Uniting would ultimately solve nothing. The best that could happen is that the aliens would be defeated. But she always looked at the bigger picture and she knew that within years the infighting, squabbles and wars that had plagued humanity since the beginning of time would simply resurface and the cycle would repeat again.

There was only one solution. The world had to be broken, defeated and scattered. The countries and superpowers of the world must descend into anarchy before true unity could come. Humans valued their independence too much for their own good and once they had lost everything, then they would be ready to accept new leadership.

The leadership of EXALT.

This had always been their goal, but there hadn’t been a sufficient event that could have brought this about. World War II had been the closest, but their influence hadn’t been sufficient to ensure the Axis powers acquired and used nuclear weaponry.

But an alien invasion? There would never be another opportunity like this.

There was only one force that stood in their way: XCOM.

The paramilitary organization had proven to be unexpectedly effective in the war with the aliens. Its small personnel numbers and obscurity had made it almost impossible to effectively infiltrate, forcing them to work with information from aides to the members of the Council.

What she knew for sure: XCOM had between twenty and thirty soldiers, was far beyond them in terms of technology, and that their Commander was surprisingly competent and secretive. What was most interesting to her were reports of tension between this Commander and the Council he reported to. She wouldn’t have thought the United Nations would have put someone in charge who wouldn’t adhere to their agenda.

Further complicating matters was the unusual secrecy surrounding not just the Commander, but XCOM in general. They was getting their soldiers from somewhere, likely from special forces units across the world, but all of it was conducted in secret. The small number of active soldiers also made it impractical to try and determine which ones had been recruited.

She scowled to herself. There was one high-level operative within the Council of Nations that would be able to answer all these questions, but due increased risk of scrutiny, she’d decreed that he only report in once a year and through pre-recorded messages so as not to blow his cover. He was the culmination of decades of work and there was no way she was going to risk blowing his cover for the sake of more frequent updates. Still, it was irritating in times like these. But the date was coming up soon, so in the meantime, they’d just have to manage.

But they had to defeat XCOM to bring about the fall of the world and unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to do it alone. As much as she hated to admit it, EXALT didn’t have the time, resources or technology to defeat XCOM _and_ be able to deal with the aliens after, not to mention dealing with the remaining governments.

So the Families had convened and reached a decision: A temporary alliance with the aliens, who they would direct at XCOM and the United Nations. While the aliens did the hard work, they would learn the secrets of alien technology and go far beyond what XCOM could hope to achieve. When the aliens finally removed the last semblance of organized human government, then they would strike, unite humanity under their leadership and eradicate the aliens.

Rather simplistic, when she thought of it that way. Put into practice, it would be far more complex and fluid, but that was the ultimate goal. They’d reached out to some of the alien doppelgangers EXALT had identified and expressed interest in an alliance. After the destruction of the dreadnaught, they’d received a message back asking for details.

Today was the day they were scheduled to arrive.

Saudia turned as the door hissed open behind her and Ethan walked through with his customary casualness. Her husband did look rather dashing in his dress uniform, which to anyone else, would just appear to a black suit, tie and pants. Not exactly what most assumed to be military attire, though appearances could be deceiving. Every EXALT soldier wore Kevlar-woven pants, combat boots and a concealed breastplate. The suits themselves had been treated as well to be resistant to extreme elements such as fire and acid. It was a hallmark of EXALT to be as professional as possible and that extended to their soldiers as well.

Of course, there was a reason these were their dress uniforms. They were rarely worn into actual combat, EXALT soldiers had _actual_ protection in that case. But when greeting an alien race, dress uniforms were warranted.

Saudia frowned as she took a closer look. “You didn’t check your eye.” She noted, walking over. Ethan Vyandar, formerly Ethan Delger, raised an eyebrow in mock concern.

“Is it _really_ that noticeable?” He asked in mock exasperation. “I can see fine.”

She sighed and reached up to his eye and moved it until it rotated the right way and it fit snug into eye socket. Ethan probably was right, very few would notice, as the mechanical eye was almost identical to the real thing. Well, _she_ noticed and it would bother her the rest of the day if she left it.

Stepping back, she appraised her handiwork. “You can see fine?”

“Perfectly.” He confirmed with exaggerated exasperation.

She nodded and smiled. “Excellent. _Now_ I can say you look good.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you very much. You look very…” he paused, searching for the word. “ _Regal_.”

She smirked at that. It was clearly flattery, though she could see why he chose that particular word. Though remembering how she looked in the mirror, she had to agree that she didn’t look that bad. Her own dress uniform consisted of black pants and a long-sleeved close-necked suit.  

It complimented her black skin nicely and contrasted well with the red sash that ran up to her right shoulder, displaying nothing but the EXALT logo. On her right shoulder was a red, ceremonial one-shoulder cape that fell to her waist. Highly impractical, but she had to admit it was striking, as with all EXALT attire.

“I should hope so,” Saudia answered. “I only wear this thing maybe once a year.”

“You should wear it more often,” he commented, leaning on the wall and looking her up and down. “It suits you.”

It likely did, but she still preferred more practical attire. Well, something to consider once the important work was done. “Do you think I should have put my hair up?” She asked, twisting a strand of raven hair in her finger.

“Nah,” Ethan shook his head and walked over to the window overlooking the empty Antarctic wasteland. “If we were going into combat, certainly. But not during a peaceful visitation.”

“Agreed.” She walked up beside him and they looked out the window together.

He looked at her as she stood by his side. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” he said. “You looked rather deep in thought.”

She shook her head. “Nothing important, just…reminiscing.”

“A fitting time to do so,” he agreed, then grew more serious. “Are you ready?” He asked quietly, not looking back outside at the fresh snow.

“Of course,” she answered immediately. “We’ve plotted out every scenario imaginable. But I don’t think the aliens will cause trouble.”

“Not at first,” Ethan amended quickly.

“Not a first,” she repeated. “But the Families all agreed that this was the best course of action. If the aliens become hostile, we’ll deal with them.”

“Who do you think they’ll send?” Ethan asked, a curious lilt in his voice. “I somehow doubt the leaders themselves will honor us with their presence.”

She smiled in amusement at his snark. “I agree. I suspect they’ll send one of those thin men to negotiate.”

Ethan snorted. “I know XCOM popularized that particular designation, but I don’t think that term can be applied to the latest wave of doppelgängers. The aliens can create realistic humans now, not all of them thin either.”

“They may look like humans,” Saudia pointed out. “But there’s always something distinctly alien about the way they move and speak. But you’re right, the aliens have stepped up their tactics. I’ll have to consult with the Families to devise measures to reduce infiltration of our own.”

“I’m honestly surprised you were able to convince all of them to agree to this in the first place,” he commented wistfully. “Matthew, Darian and Hasina of course, but what of the rest?”

“Zara was easy,” she explained dismissively with a wave of her hand. “She jumped at the chance to improve our arsenal and technology. Not to mention upgrading the training grounds.”

“I’d imagine she also wanted to pit her soldiers against XCOM,” Ethan added, nodding. “She’s probably ecstatic at the possibility of a legitimate threat.”

Saudia had also gotten that impression when talking to the head of the Venator Family. It was an understandable, though dangerous motivation, as her entire job involved overseeing the military arm of EXALT. One which Saudia had regularly avoided using. There were so many other ways to solve problems than just sending soldiers to kill people, something Zara had a difficult time understanding.

“What of Elizabeth and Diguon?” Ethan asked. “After what happened in Germany…”

“Elizabeth failed in Germany because of XCOM,” Saudia reminded him. “Focusing on the revenge angle seemed to do the trick. She knows her position is tenuous and this offers her a chance of redemption.”

Ethan shook his head as he remembered. “I can’t believe she botched the operation that badly. We lost a chance of directly influencing a Council Nation. Now we don’t have much of chance since they broke from the Council and work with XCOM directly.”

Saudia sighed. “In her defense, I don’t think any of us were expecting XCOM to abduct all the protestor leaders. It was…a surprisingly tactical move.”

“But they shouldn’t have talked,” Ethan stated firmly. “That is more concerning than that they were taken in the first place.” His jaw tightened. “I’ve stated repeatedly that it’s a mistake to recruit untested civilians. Lo and behold, someone talked and screwed our entire operation there.”

“I was there when you gave that speech to her,” Saudia remembered as she moved in front of him and leaned into his chest. “You don’t need to repeat it.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, putting his arms around her shoulders, being careful not to bump off her cape which she appreciated. “Alright, what about Diguon? He was the toughest, right?”

“That entire family is difficult,” she muttered. “Half of them want an alliance, the other half wants to watch and wait.”

“They really should split,” Ethan commented as they watched the storm pick up. “The family is too big.”

Saudia shook her head. “No. You know the agreement. One family, one continent. If we break up Asia, what would stop the rest of the Families from splitting up every time there is a disagreement? I don’t know the solution, but dividing territory isn’t the answer.”

“If you say so.” Ethan was clearly unconvinced, but she let it slide. “Regardless, how did you convince him?”

“Practicality,” she answered. “Refusing to go along would put him at odds with the rest of the other families, including the Russian side of his. Combined with XCOM shooting down that dreadnaught in China and forcing a contest for the wreckage, he has enough issues without risking my displeasure.”

“I’m impressed.” Ethan rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s almost a shame no one will know this historic event.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, turning around and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged with a smile. “But remember, I served with the Commander. That has to give my opinion _some_ merit.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “Martel is in his room, right?”

He nodded. “Secured and with guards at the door. The aliens won’t even know he exists.”

She pursed her lips. “Good. Though I’d prefer he wasn’t here at all. You explained to him why?”

“I did,” Ethan confirmed. “He seemed oddly excited about the whole thing.”

“I can sympathize,” Saudia said wearily. “But _exciting_ isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear from him.”

“He’s _seven_ ,” Ethan reminded her. “Give him some slack.”

“He’s going to succeed me,” she countered, her tone hardening. “Which means I’m holding him to a higher standard.”

“Well, you can talk to him afterward,” Ethan placated holding up his hands. “I’m sure he’ll be eager to talk-“

His words were interrupted by a pinging from his wrist. Ethan pressed his wrist communicator and held it to his mouth. “Chief Operative Vyandar, what’s the status?”

 _“Inform the Director we have detected the alien aircraft approaching the designated coordinates.”_ A voice answered.

“Understood,” Ethan nodded. “Prepare the welcoming party. The Director will be notified at once.” He clicked off the wrist communicator and looked at Saudia grimly. “Showtime.”

“Aye,” she agreed, striding over to the black leather gloves lying on the table and fitted them on. “Let’s hope this goes well.”

“Well, I’m quite interested to meet our new alien allies,” Ethan countered lightly, then waved a hand toward the door. “After you, Director.”

Then both of them walked out the door to prepare for the arrival.

***

Times like these Saudia was grateful she’d taken the same training regiments her soldiers went through. It certainly made the cold easier to bear, even if the temperatures were sub-zero. At the very least, she wouldn’t have to spend nearly a week in these conditions again. But a half-hour at most? Even the lowest soldier could handle that.

The Elite of EXALT stood behind her, twelve of the best men and woman serving in their military division. Each of them at the highest physical form the human body could attain and with at least a dozen operations completed. Once again Saudia was grateful that her family had been blessed with unusual height. Standing at six-foot-three, she was taller than most of the soldiers behind her. A trait that helped emphasize her image and authority as Director.

As they stood stoically behind her, she tried recalling how diverse this unit was. A mentally taxing task if not for the distinguishing bandannas each of them wore concealing the lower half of their faces.

While no longer utilized for such crude means, the use of bandannas had roots deep in EXALT history. Bandannas had first been used in a time when EXALT had acquired much of its wealth through more…uncivilized means. Saudia personally didn’t see the need to keep a memento like that alive, though she didn’t see a practical reason to end the tradition. Besides, it allowed for some individuality within the ranks.

The first EXALT bandannas had been one solid color with no meaning behind it. Now from a glance, one could tell which continent they were from, which family they belonged to and other decorations of service. It allowed for some interesting combinations. She glanced over at Ethan’s blue bandanna with the Vyandar symbol embroidered into the sides.

An American joining the African family wasn’t exactly _unprecedented_ , but it had been unusual enough to raise some eyebrows. Intercontinental recruitment was something she was hoping to change in the future. Unfortunately, most of the families tended to recruit from their own continent instead of looking beyond. It was something that she’d tried to normalize when she’d been head of the Vyandar family. Unfortunately, after she’d taken the mantel of Director, Hasina had assumed her position.

She loved her sister, but her views were more…traditional…than she agreed with. A glint in the sky caught her attention and they all watched attentively as the alien craft landed gently in front of them roughly ten meters away.

XCOM called them “UFO’s,” a clichéd term she felt was grossly unprofessional, though a quick glance at the craft could explain what inspired them to use that archaic word. The craft in front of her was circular and symmetrical as far as she could tell. It wasn’t that large either, she suspected it was one of the scout variety.

It emitted a low hum that somehow penetrated the whipping wind and snow, probably an aftereffect of the craft’s engine. The shimmering multicolored shield that covered the entrance to the craft suddenly receded and two hulking creatures stepped out. None of her soldiers so much as blinked; they were too disciplined for that, but the creatures were intimidating even from a distance.

They were almost half as tall as the craft itself not counting their ornate headgear. They appeared to stand just over three meters. The crimson armor they wore appeared to cover every vulnerability she could see from a cursory glance. Their faces were obscured by a pointed and spiked helmet that reminded her of the old tribal masks of archaic African tribes.

From what she could tell, these appeared to be an enhanced version of the green armored aliens XCOM had encountered. While the green ones had seemed to her as shock troops, these were the leaders. She wondered if their intelligence had been enhanced as well. A shame the aliens likely wouldn’t let them experiment on their subjects.

Four of the hulking aliens walked out and stood symmetrically in front of the entrance, two on each side. Each carried a plasma cannon nearly as tall as her and probably as heavy. Grenades were strapped to their waist and several other weapons were attached to their back, indicating their enormous strength. Scrap the _leader_ theory, these appeared to be the living embodiment of tanks.

The two groups stared at each other, neither making the first move. Saudia didn’t mind. Her soldiers would stand their indefinitely until she gave orders, if it was a test of patience the aliens wanted, she would gladly give it to them. She knew the one she was to meet had not yet disembarked.

Sure enough, a new figure stepped onto the white snow. Even though she kept her face a mask of indifference, it was tempting to curl her lip in disgust at the abomination before her. The doppelganger, what XCOM had dubbed a “Thin Man,” stood before her. Though this one was different from the suited disproportionate aliens they’d observed.

The alien before her was a near perfect recreation of what an actual well-built human would look like. As tall as her, he was lean and fit, not to mention impeccably dressed. It was similar to the dress uniforms of EXALT in a way. Black pants, dress shoes and a suit with a higher collar than normal. Still, the aliens hadn’t been able to entirely erase the discolored spots around his neck.

The face bore a welcoming, almost human smile, though the eyes were concealed by spectacles. She cocked her head slightly as she thought she saw thin blue lines scrolling on the right lens. Information, perhaps? His wavy hair whipped in the wind, but it had clearly been orderly a few minutes ago.

The thin man walked until he reached the front of his entourage, hands folded together in front of him. He glanced briefly at the aliens at his side, then kept walking forward and they fell into step behind him. The alien kept walking until her was directly in front of her.

“Director,” the alien greeted in a warm voice as he inclined his head slightly toward her. It was disconcerting how _human_ he sounded. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she replied cordially and extended a hand. Not missing a beat, the alien took her gloved hand in his bare one. It was a firm handshake, showing that the aliens were at least somewhat familiar with human customs. Inclining her head towards him, she finished. “Welcome to the Bastion.”

The alien looked behind her at the impressive snow-covered fortress behind her. The four-storied building, reinforced with steel and stone, housed the brain of all EXALT activity. Dozens of auto-turrets were built throughout the building to be activated at a moment’s notice if a hostile army invaded, and a dozen AA guns rested on the roof to shoot them out of the sky.

“I assume that the conditions in there are more hospitable,” the alien commented. “I would suggest we move in, Director. We have much to discuss.”

On that they agreed. “As you say,” she responded and began walking toward the entrance. The alien took a place beside her and kept her pace, all the EXALT soldiers following close behind. The alien soldiers didn’t move to follow, instead going back into their craft.

The alien glanced behind him with a disinterested, almost haughty look, then looked forward again. “Tell your soldiers not to follow, our conversation is not for them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “They are trustworthy, each and every one of them. Your concern is unneeded.”

“I insist,” he repeated, smile fading as they approached the entrance as snow whipped around them. “My instructions were to speak to you only. It doesn’t matter their qualifications or trustworthiness, those do not supersede my orders.”

Fair enough. It wasn’t as though she was going to keep what she learned a secret. She’d humor the alien if he wished. “Very well,” Saudia conceded, then turning to face her entourage, continued. “Return to your posts, I’ll call if needed.”

They nodded and left without a word. They knew she could take care of herself if threatened. The door to the Bastion opened and she and the alien walked in together.

***

They walked noiselessly on the red carpet. Paintings depicting certain events in EXALT’s history lined the walls, which the alien kept glancing at as they slowly walked down the hallway. The high ceilings and hanging chandeliers were ornaments more suited for a mansion than a fortress, but EXALT had never held to the idea of mutual exclusivity. “What is your name?” She asked the alien.

“Unimportant,” he answered without looking at her. “But you may address me as the Speaker of the Elders.”

Ah, useful information already. “The Elders are your superiors, I assume?”

The Speaker wrinkled his nose. “If you would like to use such a…crude…term, yes. Though that is a poor description.”

“Then perhaps you could clarify,” she suggested. “We _are_ here to learn from each other after all.”

“Very well,” the Speaker conceded. “Sharing some of our history is permitted. The usage of the word _elder_ doesn’t have the same correlation in your language. A better term would be _infinite_ , simply because they have existed for millennia and longer.” His tone turned reverent as he continued. “They are not just our _superiors,_ they are our guides, masters and leaders.”

He paused in front of a painting and observed it. “I have read your history. Your myths of the Greek and Roman gods were especially intriguing. An apt comparison I suppose, your ancestors lived believing that gods existed and utilized their power to wage war against each other, hidden away in the sky. Ours walk among us and dispense their wisdom freely.”

He turned to look at her, his smooth face hard and serious. “I do not believe you comprehend the honor you have received.”

She managed to keep her face clear of what she was feeling. She couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed by the revelation, at least from this particular alien, that at least some of the alien races appeared to be religious fanatics serving the whims of a select few “gods.” These Elders were likely just highly intelligent beings who knew how to breed fanaticism and loyalty.

“I confess,” she finally admitted. “I wasn’t quite sure our message would reach you.”

“Recent events have forced us to…reevaluate,” the Speaker admitted, some annoyance in his voice. “Humanity had proven more difficult to subdue than we anticipated.”

“Not humanity,” she corrected, shaking her head. “XCOM.”

“Yes,” the alien answered, a slight hiss on the _s_. “XCOM is an unexpected obstacle. One that we will overcome, along with your help.”

“We will do our best to assist against XCOM and the United Nations,” Saudia promised. “However-“

“You will need technology,” the Speaker finished with a wry grin, not looking at her. “ _Our_ technology.”

“XCOM has advanced beyond us,” Saudia continued, not missing a beat. “If we wish to pose a credible threat, we need to match them.”

“Never fear,” the Speaker promised. “We will provide you with whatever you desire. The Elders are generous with their allies and are interested in seeing how the enlightened of humanity will utilize them.”

That was easy. Far too easy. There was no way the aliens would place unlimited resources at their disposal without some kind of catch. Unless the aliens actually _were_ being truthful and hopelessly naïve. And while she might believe the alien before her was capable of such naivety, she was doubtful the so-called Elders were as well.

“I suspect you want something in return.” She responded, clasping her hands behind her back.

“We have only need of your information,” the Speaker answered. “The Elders have no need of your wealth, soldiers or weapons. They are also interested in humans with the Gift.”

She raised an eyebrow. “The Gift?”

“You have dubbed it as “psionics”,” the Speaker clarified. “If you have people who can utilize that power, we would request several to observe and cultivate.”

Well that was interesting. But she didn’t see the need to quite reveal _everything_ quite yet. “If I may ask a question?”

He looked at her. “You may ask.”

“Why have you come?” Saudia asked simply, it was a question she had wondered ever since the incursion started. She didn’t entirely expect a satisfactory or straight answer, but she was curious nevertheless.

“Anyone with any amount of intelligence knows you are technologically superior to us in every way,” she continued. “Why prolong this war any longer than necessary?”

The Speaker sighed in exasperation. “A disappointingly human question. You fail to see beyond the scope of your own world. You are concerned with only your planet and species,” his lip curled in derision. “And judging by your history, not even then. The Elders see beyond the scope of one world, or one solar system. We are not here to _enslave_ , _eradicate_ or _conquer_. Humanity has enormous untapped potential, the Elders only wish to see that potential come to fruition.”

“And your means of accomplishing this is bombing cities and murdering civilians?” Saudia questioned calmly. It was a dangerous line of questioning, but after _that_ explanation, it was a perfectly valid question. Luckily, the alien didn’t seem offended.

“I assume you mean the attack in the country of Germany,” he answered. “It was a sadly necessary step in reminding XCOM who is truly superior.”

Saudia sighed. “I was more referring to the alliance between you and the former Chancellor. Right before your…questionable decisions.”

“Ah, yes,” the Speaker’s lip curled up. “That wasn’t us.”

Saudia blinked. That wasn’t what she had expected. “Is that so? If not you, then who?”

“XCOM,” the Speaker stated. “A tactic that even the Elders were surprised at. Not the plan itself, anyone could conceive of it, but that it was executed so thoroughly.”

She was skeptical. “Speaker,” she began, shaking her head. “With all due respect, I find that hard to believe. XCOM ultimately answers to the United Nations and that kind of operation is one they’d never approve of, even if their own lives were at stake.”

“You assume that the Commander of XCOM blindly follows the guidelines of the parent organization,” the Speaker chided. “That is not the case.”

“I find it hard to believe that the United Nations would appoint someone so willing to go against them,” Saudia countered, unconvinced. “It would be…unlike them.”

“Hold on to that if you wish,” the Speaker shrugged dismissively. “But this Commander is highly intelligent and dangerous. We do not use those terms lightly.”

“Do you have anything on the Commander?” Saudia asked. As unlikely as it was, it was worth a shot.

“Nothing concrete,” the Speaker answered, his tone subdued. “Infiltrating human organizations is…difficult for us. That is an area in which you are more qualified.”

“That is true,” she agreed. “And one we will utilize to the best of our ability.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes. “I would not be incorrect in assuming your influence is substantial,” the alien said. “Your organization would not be worth considering if that was the case, but the Elders are curious as to the… _extent_ of your reach.”

A fair question, and one that the alien would not have been able to answer on their own. Still, she was certainly not going to reveal _everything_ to the alien in front of her. “You might say that. EXALT has many operatives stationed across the world. Our directives are carried out through them.”

The Speaker rubbed his chin, although it looked more like an imitation of what a human would do. “I would guess that you primarily station your operatives in the various governments and militaries,” he mused quietly. “Is that right?”

“Nearly,” she answered, glancing over at him. “Though we don’t limit ourselves to stationing operatives in such predictable places. Many are placed in mundane positions whose job is to watch and report. Too many high-level operatives draw unwanted scrutiny.”

 “I see,” the Speaker answered. “A wise move, though there must be some who you control.”

“Manipulate,” she corrected. “And yes, there are some nations where our operatives are highly placed.”

“In a position to eventually take over?” The Speaker asked, looking at her curiously.

“No,” she denied. “We avoid direct control of countries and companies. EXALT works from behind the scenes. Anyone with too much influence draws scrutiny from not just their own nation, but the surrounding ones as well. Should they become exposed, not only is EXALT at risk, but our entire operation there as well. An exposed aide or advisor can be replaced, the president of a nation is much harder.”

“A methodical and intelligent approach,” the alien commented, his lip curling up in a mockery of a smile. “You understand patience, the Elders chose well.”

Saudia suppressed a snort. But they’d talked enough about EXALT’s operations, time to go to more practical matters for this alliance. She spun on her heel and gestured for the Speaker to follow. “Come. I have something I believe you’ll find interesting.”

He stayed by her side, looking around constantly as if trying to memorize every single detail. Saudia didn’t mind, the superficial decorations and furniture provided no tactical advantage and even the layout would be useless as the unique structure of the Bastion made it possible to reconfigure corridors and hallways, rendering schematics nearly useless.

“Can you provide us with human subjects?” She asked as they walked. “It would be possible to acquire them ourselves, but that would take time.”

“We would be able to spare some,” the Speaker agreed. “We would need to coordinate more to find a village with enough specimens to satisfy you.” Saudia blinked. That hadn’t exactly been what her request was, she had assumed the aliens could spare some from those they had gathered from earlier abductions. However, she wouldn’t turn down a small village of subjects.

They finally reached the holding cells. The lower floor currently contained twenty-four cells that had formerly held test subjects. Sadly, many of the subjects had died during the catalyst experiment, but the results had been worth it. She motioned the Speaker over to one of the cells containing a woman huddling in the corner, not knowing she was being watched.

The Speaker frowned. “What is this?”

“This,” Saudia answered proudly. “Is Subject Four, the result of years of testing.” She watched the woman through the one-way glass as she rocked on the floor, clutching her head. Saudia picked up a tablet that controlled the shock device implanted in her spine. Provoking her should do the trick, her abilities were tightly intertwined with her emotions at this point so the more unstable, the better chance of a demonstration. She disliked inflicting unnecessary pain on her prisoners, but this case was warranted.

The woman screamed as the device shocked her and writhed on the floor. It wasn’t a high voltage, so it had the effect of simply making the woman pained and angry. She shakily rose to her feet and looked at one of the windows. “ _What do you want?”_ She shouted, fists clenched as she tried directing her bloodshot eyes at her tormentors. “ _Aren’t you happy with what you did to me_?”

Saudia frowned. Ranting wasn’t what she wanted. She administered another shock which sent the woman to her knees twitching and shuddering. The Speaker didn’t seem amused. “Is there a point to this?” He demanded, looking at her in annoyance.

“Just wait,” Saudia promised.

 _“Stop!”_ The woman screamed, shouting at her in the right direction. Her voice became layered as if multiple people were speaking at once. _“Please stop! Get out of my head!”_ With her final words, a visible wave of purple energy emanated from her, pushing all the objects around her away. Her eyes were now glowing purple orbs that leaked a fine purple mist. Her face contorted in pain a few seconds later and she fell to the ground clutching her head and crying.

She looked over to the Speaker and was pleased to see an expression of awe on his face. “She has the Gift,” he whispered.

“She does,” Saudia confirmed. “And we have three more just like her.”

“The Elders will be pleased,” he said reverently. “I wish to see them.”

“I will show you,” Saudia promised, inclining her head. “Then we can discuss the finer points of our alliance.”

“An excellent plan,” the Speaker agreed enthusiastically. “I believe this alliance will be beneficially for both our organizations.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Saudia thanked, hiding her true thoughts. She motioned down the hall of the other cells. “Right this way.”


	3. The Council's Directive

 

_Scotland, Wilderness_

Cerian Irelan took a deep breath and steadied the rifle. With the sun behind him illuminating the target, the shot was clear. Not wasting another moment, he fired. The shot rang out across the valley and the dummy fell over, a new hole in its “head.”

Rising from one knee, he appraised his handiwork in the fading sunlight. Frowning, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and began walking down the hill. Shooting at dummies was never as satisfying as something living. Hunting season wasn’t here yet, so he had to make do with inanimate objects.

Granted, he _did_ do his best to make it challenging and interesting. Challenging by placing the dummies at absurd distances or picking easily damaged objects such as plates or glass bottles. But even then, it was only a few sessions before he became bored due to it being so… _lifeless_.

But such was his life now.

His not-inconsiderable personal wealth, a reward for his service, allowed him to purchase the highest quality gear possible. Which he invested in quite regularly, although his usage of the weapons was limited to…this.  Ah well, luckily, he had other hobbies and now had all the time in the world.

Unless the aliens conquered Earth of course, which was a distinct possibility. But given how one of those massive dreadnoughts had been recently shot down, it appeared the UN had things under control, more or less. He smirked in recollection, though he imagined that even the UN would find something to complain about that. But such was the result of working with such a diverse coalition;

 no one was ever satisfied. Anyone working with them just had to roll with it.

Personally, he hoped a small alien ship would touch down around here. It was a nice quaint area, perfect for some extraterrestrials to conduct some… _operations_ in peace, or whatever the aliens called them. And if his little project worked out, they might just come down to investigate and probably provide him with the most excitement he’d had in years.

Reaching the dummy, he grasped it in his hands and raised it back up. Lightly brushing the head to remove some of the dust, he nodded in satisfaction. Regardless of the lack of challenge, it was always satisfying to see a nice bullet hole between the eyes.

His ears perked as a loud crack from a branch sounded behind him. Drawing his pistol, he whirled around aiming at the direction of the noise, then sighed when he saw the man calmly staring him down.

Dressed in the military uniform of a UN Peacekeeper, consisting of the familiar dark and light blue camouflage patterns, the only indicator of his rank was a row of badges on the upper left chest. At least he wasn’t wearing one of those ridiculous bright blue pieces of headgear that the UN was so fond of.

He did wonder who’d been the genius to commission _that_ particular color. No doubt the brass thought they were doing such a good thing by making the soldiers stand out so much. The official line was that they would be recognizable easily as the “good guys.” Which essentially meant that they didn’t want people in meaningless third-world countries attacking them who had no clue who the UN actually was.

However to quite a few in NATO, along with himself, the obnoxious uniforms essentially screamed _“I am your enemy. Shoot me now!”_ Especially to a sniper like him. Drawing attention to yourself was idiotic and even the thugs the Peacekeepers were sent to fight were able to figure at who to shoot at. Luckily they were a bit more lenient with their intelligence agents.

“I wouldn’t sneak up like that,” he warned, keeping his pistol at the ready. “You’re lucky I looked before shooting.”

Patrick Rush looked unimpressed. The UN liaison had a gift for always remaining collected. It was easy to see how he’d risen so quickly in the Peacekeepers. A shame he’d left when offered the position of liaison, he’d have been an excellent officer. He did have a bit of amusement glinting in his brown eyes as he appraised Cerian calmly. It was hard to believe he was almost forty; his black hair didn’t have any gray and his lean face was flawless.

“But you did,” Patrick responded, walking up and observing the dummy. “I knew that, so I didn’t see the need to worry.”

Cerian snorted. “Next time I won’t look.”

“ _Really_ ,” Patrick drawled. “Then how will you hit me?”

Cerian raised an eyebrow. “A blind man could hit you in that uniform.”

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, you’ve made your feelings about the state of the Peacekeeper attire _very_ public. I don’t wish to hear it again.”

Cerian stepped back and waited. Liaison Rush never came without a reason and also had an annoying habit of taking his time before explaining himself. There were two possibilities he could see; either Patrick was here to get something from him, or he was here to kill him. Patrick walked around the dummy, taking his sweet time before continuing. “I see you’re keeping your skills up,” he noted, pacing around the dummy.

“Yes,” Cerian agreed cautiously. “I spent nearly two decades cultivating them, I certainly won’t lose them now.”

“So I’ve heard,” he agreed, nodding. “And if the reports I’ve received are any indication, you’re improved considerably.”

The revelation that he’d been watched wasn’t a shock. He would have been more surprised if the UN _hadn’t_ had anyone watching him. Based on that, he had a more concrete idea of why Patrick was here. “Why are you here, Rush?”

Patrick stopped pacing and looked at him, clasping his hands in front of his body. “You don’t waste time, I’d forgotten that. Very well, I’m here on official business. From the Council.”

Cerian smirked. “Official business, _really_. Thanks, would never have figured that out.” Irelan frowned and scratched his chin, the beard was itchy again. “And you’ll have to be a _little_ more specific, the UN has quite a few _Councils_ if I recall correctly.”

“Apologies,” Patrick corrected. “The Council of Nations, a body of the most influential nations on Earth.”

“Correction,” Cerian amended smoothly. “A body of the _wealthiest_ nations on Earth.” He raised a hand as Patrick opened his mouth. “And I’m going to give my answer now. No, I won’t work for any multinational organization that is _not_ the UN.”

“The Council is a legitimate organization within the United Nations,” Patrick insisted. “It is not illegal.”

“Then cut to the chase,” Cerian demanded. “What do you want from me?”

Patrick pursed his lips. “To utilize your skills. They have clearly not diminished and we have reason to employ you again.”

Cerian blinked in astonishment. He’d expected to be asked about his contacts or project, not to be _recruited_. “Is that right?” He answered slowly, not bothering to hide his disbelief. “Well, then I can give you my answer now. No.”

Patrick didn’t seem surprised. “You should hear me out. This is a matter-“

“Then perhaps you should have thought of that before forcing me into retirement.” Cerian stated, ice crystallizing his tone. “I did my job for a long time. Then you removed me when it was politically convenient.”

“You always knew that was a possibility,” Patrick countered calmly. “In fact that possibility was specifically mentioned in your contract.”

Cerian nodded. “It was. And I don’t begrudge the UN for taking advantage of it. But as a consequence, I don’t owe the UN anything. I’ve enjoyed my retirement, I don’t see any reason to leave it.”

“Not even if the world is at stake?” Patrick pressed, eyes boring into his.

Cerian met his gaze easily. “I assume you mean the aliens? Yes, perfectly fine. You seem to have things under control anyway.”

Patrick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Cerian sighed. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. Go ahead, tell me XCOM _isn’t_ part of the UN or your Council.”

“I can neither con-“

“Don’t bother,” Cerian interrupted. “But my point is that you have an entire organization for fighting the aliens, and UN or no, and they seem to be doing a decent job. I’m well past my prime and can name a dozen men and woman who can do whatever you want just as good as me. But I’m not your agent, nor your assassin anymore.”

Patrick’s eyes flashed in annoyance and his calm demeanor broke. “It’s not _nearly_ as simple as that,” he hissed. “You have no clue what is going on.”

“Then enlighten me,” Cerian challenged, crossing his arms. “Justify bringing me back.”

Patrick hesitated. “You can’t repeat anything I tell you.”

“Don’t insult me,” Cerian answered, annoyed. “I can be discrete.”

“Fine,” Patrick took a breath. “The Commander is alive.”

It took him a second to realize the actual meaning of what he said and Cerian actually took a step back. “ _What_?” He hissed.

“Alive,” Patrick repeated, more sure of himself. “And in charge of XCOM.”

Cerian holstered the pistol in his hand and looked at Patrick in disbelief. After a few seconds of contemplation, he made a decision. “Let’s go to my house,” he suggested to the UN Liaison. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long story.” Without a word, he began walking towards the isolated house on a hill overlooking the valley.

***

“I’d ask that you not touch anything,” Cerian warned as he opened the door to his modest house. Being honest with himself, it was a mess, but he didn’t receive visitors often. As a result, the small house was organized in a much different manner than normal.

Immediately to the left of the entrance was what had once been the “living room.” After several weeks of work, it’d been converted into something of a workshop. Tools and parts were strewn across the floor, though in his defense, he’d planned to continue working after his shooting session and hadn’t seen the need to put everything away only to take it out again.

To the right was the kitchen/slaughterhouse, since here was where he did all the cooking, along with skinning and gutting the animals he hunted. It wasn’t like there was another place to do it, not to mention he usually didn’t have to worry about guests. The bloodstained table along the wall had other advantages as well. Some idiot planning to rob him had once come in the middle of a skinning session. He’d walked in very confidently, then quickly ran away when he saw Cerian covered in blood, knife in hand.

He wondered what had happened to him.

Luckily the kitchen was one area he was sure to keep pristine as much as possible. He despised unclean eating places. He motioned Patrick to sit on a wooden chair by the table. Cerian set his rifle in the corner for now, he’d put it back in the armory later. Patrick looked over into the workshop.

“May I ask what _that_ is?” He asked curiously, indicating the project he’d been working on. 

Cerian took a seat across from him. “The reports you got didn’t mention that? I’d think I warranted at least _some_ competent spies.”

“Not every spy is you,” Patrick sighed. “And no, I do have some idea. The one watching believes it has something to do with the aliens, though since you don’t have friends and don’t talk to yourself, it isn’t confirmed.”

“Really,” Cerian stated with a raised eyebrow. “And this, ah, “spy” actually respected my privacy and didn’t come in when I wasn’t around?”

“Oh no, she did,” Patrick amended quickly. “But she had no idea what it was.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Cerian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You tell me what’s going on and I’ll tell you what I’m working on if you want.”

Patrick nodded. “Agreed.”

“Alright,” Cerian leaned back. “So tell me, one: How-no, _why_ is the Commander alive? And two: How the hell is he in charge of XCOM?”

Patrick sighed. “For your first question, he was never killed in the first place. The Council faked his death in case he was needed one day. As for your second, well, the Council placed him in charge.”

“You’re kidding,” Cerian denied flatly, shaking his head in disbelief. “There is no way the _United_ _Nations_ would put the _Commander_ in charge of anything.”

“I am not,” Patrick insisted, his lips pursing in exasperation. “You really think I would make this up?”

“Probably not,” Cerian admitted, his voice lowering. “So please tell me; what the fuck possessed the UN to make such an idiotic move?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick admitted slowly. “I was brought in on this after the decision had been made. But I’d imagine it was a combination of fear and practicality.”

Cerian waved a hand. “Go on.”

“The aliens are much more widespread than the public is aware of,” Patrick revealed, face tightening. “For reasons we don’t know, they’re keeping their invasion rather low-key. Instead of armies conquering countries, they stick to abducting small towns and citizens. _Thousands_ of people have been abducted across the world and they’ve inserted agents that look just like us to infiltrate and destroy.”

“So how long’s this been going on?” Cerian inquired.

“Since December,” Patrick explained. “We were aware of them long before the Hamburg attack. There was hope XCOM would be able to prevent that, but they were unable to.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cerian pointed out. “Why the Commander of all people.”

Patrick’s tone was audibly annoyed. “Let me finish,” he cleared his throat. “I believe the Council was scared that the aliens were coming to wipe us out or enslave us. When they became fixated on that, letting an experienced war criminal with proven results take control of their only means of protection wasn’t much of a concern.”

“Just how sure are you of this?” Cerian asked, leaning back.

“I’ve spoken to the Councilors,” Patrick explained. “And even then it wasn’t unanimous. The Commander’s appointment has split the Council into two very clear camps. One supports him, the other wants him gone.”

Cerian held up his hand. “I’ll admit, this is the most fascinating thing I’ve heard in years. But I don’t want you explaining anymore unless I accept this job. If this Council is composed of superpowers and I fall on one side or the other, there is a decent chance I’m going to end up dead or imprisoned for choosing the opposite side. So before I make a decision, I want to know _exactly_ what you expect of me.”

“The ones I represent want you to take charge of a small group of operatives,” Patrick explained and handed him a file. “The names are in there. We have reason to believe the Commander is conducting unsanctioned intelligence operations across the world. Your job will be to find out what he is doing and gather evidence to build a case against him.”

Cerian flipped through the file and rubbed his beard. “Interesting. For a minute I thought you were going to ask me to kill him.”

Patrick shook his head. “Impossible I’m afraid, even for you. The Citadel was designed to be impenetrable. Only two ways in, both under heavy observation. As far as we know, the Commander has only left twice, both times unannounced.”

“The Citadel?”

“XCOM Headquarters,” Patrick explained. “The Commander gave it the name.”

“Cute,” Cerian commented. “Unsanctioned intelligence operations you say? If he’s conducting these against the aliens, I’d think that would be part of his job, correct?”

“Except he’s not,” Patrick shook his head. “At least none we’re aware of. He’s conducting operations against other _countries.”_

How interesting and entirely unexpected. What did the UN expect? That the Commander was really going to ignore all the problems he saw within the organization? No, an alien invasion wasn’t going to stop the Commander from either taking revenge or justice, as the two seemed very intertwined when it came to him. Compounded by the fact that the Commander probably knew part of the Council was against him, so self-preservation was another likely possibility.

Either way, if the UN genuinely _hadn’t_ anticipated this, they were either very naïve or very stupid.

And the fact that Patrick was telling him this and _not_ to a court gave him the impression that the evidence to back these claims up wasn’t very much. “You don’t have anything, do you?” He stated, a humorless grin on his lips.

Patrick frowned. “Sorry.”

“Evidence. Proof,” Cerian nodded towards the file in his hand. “Something that back up what you’re saying. And you don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be needed, would I?”

“Circumstantial evidence,” Patrick admitted. “And tenuous at best.”

“Right so let’s call this job what it is,” Cerian stated bluntly. “A smear campaign. You want me to find some credible evidence to dismiss the Commander from his position. In that case, why not just fabricate it?”

“Two reasons,” Patrick said slowly. “First of which is that we would lose XCOM completely. The Commander isn’t an idiot and would be able to counter false evidence. Even if it were credible, too much time has passed and we fear that most of the personnel under the Commander are now loyal to him, _not_ the United Nations. Not to mention it would prove us no better than him.”

“And the second reason?”

“Because enough countries still back the Commander to ensure that any forged evidence would be dismissed,” Patrick explained grimly. “As it stands now, even if we gather enough legitimate evidence to use, they’ll probably still obstruct us.”

Cerian made a note of that. “So then, why are they backing him? I find it hard to believe that they would overlook what he did.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, XCOM has had much success under his leadership,” Patrick admitted. “Aside from that, some of them believe he is the one who is needed in times like these. Uncompromising, deadly and ruthless. The most disturbing part is that I can see why they think so.”

“I’m assuming that the Commander’s freedom came with constraints,” Cerian muttered aloud. “Has he broken any of them?”

“Technically…no,” Patrick answered after a second of silence. “But it’s been hard to determine his honesty since we have no legitimate clue what goes on inside the Citadel. The Council gave him too much freedom and that made him think he could do anything with no repercussions.”

“So what prompted you to come to me?” Cerian demanded. “Something must have happened.”

“He first performed an unsanctioned mission in Germany before the attack,” Patrick answered. “Captured the leaders of the protests and either turned them over to national authorities or killed them.”

Cerian raised an eyebrow. “And the reason was…?”

“They suspected the aliens were manipulating the populace,” Patrick explained.

“And were they?”

“The Commander found evidence to suggest yes…” Patrick answered slowly. “Along with some organization called EXALT.”

Cerian snorted. It was remarkable how that legend just wouldn’t die. “EXALT is a myth.”

“Perhaps,” Patrick shrugged. “But the questionable part is that we suspect that the Commander extracted that information through torture based on the state of the prisoners returned.”

Cerian raised an eyebrow. “I suppose my level of outrage would vary on whether the information he extracted was correct, and from the sounds of it, it appears to be so. Which means I’m not entirely moved by the fact that some criminals were hurt a little.”

“The point is that he broke the Geneva Conventions. That’s-“

“What did you _honestly_ expect?” Cerian demanded fiercely, facepalming. “You put a _war_ _criminal_ in charge of a _military organization_. Did you really think he was going to care about rules set by the _United Nations?_ The organization that _hunted him down?”_

Patrick actually flushed a little. Good, even if this whole mess wasn’t his fault, at least he recognized the stupidity that got them here. “You have a point. I can’t really contest that.”

Cerian sighed and waved a hand. “So continue.”

“We also think the Commander was responsible for what happened in the aftermath of the Hamburg attack,” Patrick admitted. “We don’t know how he did it, but we suspect that he tricked the aliens into attacking. Which gave the German military the excuse to take over the country and establish a chain of command sympathetic to the Commander. The pieces fit too well not to have _some_ kind of connection.”

As outlandish as it seemed, Patrick did have a point. When watching that entire massacre, he had privately wondered why the aliens had attacked a country that had flat out admitted to surrendering to the aliens. It made no tactical or common sense, which made him suspect there was other things going on behind the scenes.

But it was still circumstantial at best.

Cerian was silent for a minute. “I’m going to be perfectly honest here. I think the Commander was a war criminal who should have been executed when he was caught. If given the chance, I would have killed him myself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “However, this seems less like a job about the Commander actually breaking the rules and more like a personal vendetta. You don’t like him, these councilors don’t like him, _I_ don’t like him and we’re all perfectly entitled to that. But by your own admission, you _have no proof_. The Commander hasn’t broken any rules that you know of, and circumstantial evidence is not good enough for me to risk my life on the assumption that he _might_ be doing something illegal.”

“Do you really think the Commander has the best intentions for the world in mind?” Patrick challenged. “He’s just biding his time until he has enough power. When he’s ready he’ll kill everyone who stands in his way.”

“How melodramatic,” Cerian commented, suddenly feeling every one of his fifty-two years weighing down on him. “Well I hate to say this, but the UN brought whatever’s coming directly on themselves.”

“Is that a no?” Patrick demanded icily. “Because if not, I really need to be going.”

“Tell me why you wanted me,” Cerian demanded, crossing his arms. “The truth. You have your pick of operatives who are just as skilled as me and probably wouldn’t ask as many questions.”

Patrick took a few minutes to ponder that. “Because you’re one of the few principled and idealistic operatives whose served. Simply put, you’re trustworthy.”

How nice of him. “Principled and idealistic,” he repeated airily. “Not words I’d use to describe myself.”

“I would,” Patrick answered simply. “You might have held the role as an assassin, but you certainly captured more than you killed. No collateral damage in any of your assignments, you never broke any regulations and always completed your mission to the letter. The United Nations is flawed, everyone know this, but you focused on the ideals of the organizing rather than all the disagreements you personally had with it.”

While all of that was true, he’d never really thought about it that way. “It’s kind of sad when just doing your job right makes you a principled person,” he commented wearily. “I never really thought of myself as such, considering my line of work.”

They were both silent for a few minutes. “I need an answer,” Patrick finally said. “Say yes and we can get to work. Say no and I’ll leave and you’ll probably never see me again.”

Cerian had to smile at the disclaimer at the end. Rapping his fingers on the table as he thought, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. There was no clear-cut answer in this case. Honestly, he could easily make a justification for either decision. But he wanted to make the _right_ one, not just choosing one side or another.

Compromise. That was it, both sides had to stand to lose something, and he had an idea of how to accomplish that.

“How sure are you that the Commander is performing illegal operations?” Cerian asked slowly.

“Certain,” Patrick stated without hesitation.

“Would you bet your life, and those of your partners on it?”

Patrick eyed him suspiciously. “What are you saying?”

“I will accept on certain conditions,” Cerian explained, holding his gaze. “I will take command of your operatives and determine if the Commander is performing illegal operations. If he is, I’ll help gather evidence to bring him down for good. If I find him innocent, I will go to him and rest of the Council and expose this entire operation.”

Patrick visibly swallowed. “I’ll need to confer with my superior.”

Cerian nodded. “Go ahead.” Patrick got up and went outside while he waited. A few minutes later he came back in and took his seat.

“It will be done,” he confirmed. “Welcome aboard.”

Cerian rolled his shoulders. “Excellent. Let’s get to work. I’m curious to meet this team.”

***

_Ireland, Undisclosed Location_

When Herman Diederick had been summoned by order of the United Nations, this hadn’t been _quite_ what he expected.

Actually, not at all what he expected.

True, the whole area was very ceremonial and decorated and he’d spent a good amount of time admiring the architecture, shiny tiled floors and ornate furnishings. Fitting for the most powerful international organization in the world. He had partially accepted the offer out of curiosity, as the Council had been a part of the United Nations even he didn’t know much about.

That might have bothered him had the Council interfered in NATO operations, but as far as he was aware, they tended to keep to themselves and only a few knew the organization existed. As a Major General in NATO, he’d been fortunate to know a bit before receiving the unusual summons.

It had been interesting at first, seeing the twelve councilors and their entourages milling around the commons area he was in now, conferring with aides and speaking to each other. But as time passed he was growing more and more uncomfortable. It was becoming quickly apparent that there was division and tension here, he’d seen councilors pointedly ignore each other and had witnessed several getting into arguments about oddly menial matters.

Furthermore, all of them had been glancing at him with either wariness, suspicion or outright contempt and he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to warrant _any_ of this. Hell, he’d been in _warzones_ less charged than this.

He’d attempted to speak to several of the Councilors and had barely gotten more than a few tense words out before quickly saying farewell and leaving him alone. He was getting a suspicion that he was something of a compromise that no one wanted.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to care to explain anything.

“I must apologize for my colleagues lack of manners,” a man with a deep voice apologized as he walked up. “Unfortunately, you’ve come at a very… _divisive_ …time.”

Herman turned to face the newcomer. Dressed in an ordinary suit with the United Nations emblem sewn on the upper left chest, he was otherwise no different from most dressed here. However, he had a pretty good clue based on the man’s bald head.

“I suspected as much,” he answered, sighing. “I suppose you are the Speaker. A pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand which the Speaker took.

“I imagine you have….questions,” the Speaker stated neutrally.

“Some explanation would be appreciated,” Herman agreed, watching with interest as several of the councilors noticed them speaking and frowned in apparent disapproval. “It appears they don’t like me speaking to you either.”

“The unfortunate truth here is that you are a victim of politics,” the Speaker stated bluntly. “A large number would prefer you not be here at all, while others are frustrated that you were the one chosen.” The Speaker paused. “They view you as a…compromise…one not in their favor.”

Herman pursed his lips. “Wonderful.” Great, he’d joined NATO to escape politics, or at least the high-level kind here. True, as he’d been promoted that had been a risk, but he’d never imagined _this_ would be the result.

“Is there anyone who wanted me here?” He asked the Speaker, looking around the room.

“The one who put your name forward is on your side,” the Speaker answered neutrally. “However, she also didn’t want anyone in the first place. But in your current…position…the most support you will find is either skepticism or indifference.”

While this brutal honesty was refreshing, all it made him want to do is leave this place and have them pick someone else to be mad at. Unfortunately, walking out on the Council would be career suicide, along with possibly worse. “Thank you, I guess,” he told the Speaker wryly. “I don’t suppose you have an opinion on me?”

“I certainly do,” the Speaker answered, raising an eyebrow. “For the position you have been…summoned…for, you are qualified and from a practical standpoint, that is all that should be considered. As for my personal opinion, I cannot share. My purpose is to be an…objective… mediator, my opinions do not matter.”

“Shame you weren’t a politician,” Herman muttered. “You might be one I actually vote for.”

The Speaker smiled at that. “An appreciated sentiment,” he murmured looking around the room. His eyes brightened as a woman walked over to them. Cropped brown hair cut sharply at the neck framed a stern face, and hard eyes which contradicted the small smile on her face.

“Major General,” she greeted firmly, extending her hand. He took it and she gave a brief nod towards the Speaker. “Speaker, a pleasure.”

Herman looked at her. “Same to you, ma’am. Apologies, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Tamara Vasilisa,” she answered. “Councilor of the Russian Federation.”

Ah, so that _was_ a Russian accent. Diminished, but it was there. “Well, Councilor Vasilisa, I appreciate you speaking to me.”

“Tamara will suffice,” she advised. “I don’t see a need to make this more difficult than it already is.”

“As you wish, Tamara,” he answered, not entirely comfortable with that. Addressing a woman who was technically his superior in such a casual way was a foreign concept, but he felt it would probably offend her more if he refused. And the last thing he needed here was more enemies.

She turned around and motioned him to follow her. “Walk with me. We should talk.”

About time, maybe he’d finally get some answers. They walked out of the commons area into an equally ornate hallways with a red rug on the ground. “I don’t suppose you could tell me why I was asked here?” He asked as they walked.

“In fact, I can,” she answered easily. “You are aware of XCOM?”

“As much as anyone else,” Herman answered. “An anti-alien paramilitary organization. NATO doesn’t know where it came from, who’s funding them or who the commander is. It’s generated a lot of speculation to say the least.”

“And do you have a theory?” She asked neutrally glancing up at him.

“Before coming here?” Herman paused. “I would have guessed either a private organization or an American, Chinese or Russian venture. However, now it seems pretty obvious that the United Nations is behind it.”

“Correct,” Tamara confirmed. “The Council, specifically. You will be our representation within XCOM.”

Well. That was interesting, and not what he’d expected. “I’m not a politician,” he told her. “I’m not exactly the most qualified-“

Tamara raised a hand to cut him off. “Correct. You are _not_ a politician, which was why I put your name forward for the position. You are aware of the rules the United Nations abides by, correct.”

“Of course.”

“Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re perfectly qualified. You don’t know how precarious our war is and we can’t afford more politicians making decisions. If we were going to send a representative, it would be someone who could actually contribute to the defense of Earth.”

And again, there was that feeling that despite her recommendation, she didn’t want him here at all. It was interesting that she seemed to disapprove of politicians, seeing as how she was technically one herself. Perhaps she was like him, possibly former military forced well outside her comfort zone. “I’m flattered, councilor,” he answered. “But if this reception has proven anything, it’s that not many seem entirely pleased to see me.”

“I wouldn’t concern yourself with them,” Tamara dismissed, her voice turning frosty. “Those fools wanted a puppet, someone to fulfill their naïve and petty agenda. I have little tolerance for such fools and you should give them as much consideration as they deserved.”

The venom in her voice was unmistakable. Still, he knew when he was being used. “And what is your motive, Councilor? Do you wish me to promote your agenda instead?”

She chuckled. “If you see things from my point of view, I would certainly not oppose it. But no, despite what some think, we don’t want a puppet. You are intelligent enough to make decisions and draw your own conclusions.” She paused. “Which is why I would ask that you keep an open mind when speaking to the man I’m bringing you to.”

Hm. That sounded ominous. “And who is he?”

“We’re at his office now,” Tamara answered as they approached a door and knocked. “After you finish your meeting, I would like to speak with you again. You’ll have a much better understanding of the situation after this meeting.”

Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and they stepped into a finely decorated office. Bookshelves lined the walls and a window gave a beautiful view outside. In front of them, sitting at a desk, was a brown haired man. He looked around thirty or forty, wearing a generally indifferent expression on his face.

“Councilor Vasilisa,” he greeted coldly, looking up with a frown. “I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

“For all your talk about wanting a representative, you didn’t seem to care to speak to him right away,” Tamara countered with a smile. “I didn’t think it polite to just leave him in the commons to the stares of your colleagues.”

The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he looked at Tamara suspiciously. “I see. Apologies, Major General, I was supposed to receive word when you arrived.”

“Accepted,” Herman stated neutrally, some more theories growing in his mind. “May I ask who you are?”

“Councilor Ali Ennor, of Australia,” he replied. “I believe it is time to speak.” He nodded at Tamara. “Good day, Councilor.”

She gave a smile, though to him it appeared more of a smirk. “Always a pleasure, Councilor Ennor.” Without a word, she turned around and left the room. Hopefully she’d find him once he was done, since he had no clue where everything was.

“I imagine Tamara told you what you’re here for,” Ali asked, standing up.

“As a representative to XCOM,” Herman answered. “Though she didn’t mention specifics.”

“Unusually respectful of her,” Ali commented. “Regardless, to have a clear picture, I should explain why we felt this step had to be taken in the first place.”

Herman nodded. “I’m listening.”

“You are aware of the war criminal known as the Commander, correct?” He asked.

Herman nodded. “Of course. I’d be surprised if someone wasn’t.”

Ali paused. “There is no light way to put this. The Commander is alive and in charge of XCOM.”

Herman coughed in disbelief, a rare display of emotion for him. But in this case it was perfectly warranted. Questions blazed in his mind and he honestly didn’t know what to ask first. Shaking his head to focus his thoughts he finally addressed the Councilor. “Perhaps you should explain.”

“Of course,” Ali inclined his head. “Know that not all the Council, myself included, wanted this. However, he was kept alive in the event that we might need his expertise. Despite his crimes, he is an undisputed tactician and commander, something the majority of the Council thought worth preserving. And with growing evidence of extraterrestrial life, some viewed him as the best chance to preserve humanity.”

Herman shook his head in disbelief. “With all due respect Councilor, I can’t imagine a scenario where that benefits anyone. Not only does it violate multiple United Nations regulations, but the Commander himself has publicly denounced us multiple times.”

“Concerns that were brought up,” Ali agreed. “Unfortunately, our bloc was outvoted and the Commander placed in charge.”

“Let me guess,” Herman guessed wearily. “Things haven’t gone as planned.”

“It’s potentially worse than even I thought,” Ali admitted. “He’d done everything possible to exclude us from any discoveries made from alien technology recovered. Technology that our own countries could use in conjunction with XCOM. But he jealously keeps it all to himself doing God knows what with it.”

“Honest question,” Herman asked, frowning. “What did you expect? The United Nations were the ones who…well, apparently captured him. Why would he feel any loyalty to you?”

“You’re telling this to the wrong person,” Ali sighed. “I’m well aware of the problems and saw them all coming. Sadly, Councilor Vasilisa and her supporters are blind to this fact.”

He was beginning to get a picture of the situation now. “Is that it? Or is there more?”

“More,” Ali stated grimly. “We have precious little evidence, but there is some to suggest the entire Germany fiasco was engineered by the Commander.”

Herman blinked. “If I recall, there were several fiascos. You are referring to…?”

“The one where the German military secured the country,” Ali informed. “The blackouts we suspect were caused by the Commander along with him baiting the aliens into attacking the cities. There is also a chance he was behind the assassination of the German cabinet.”

“If that were true, you’d have already arrested him,” Herman pointed out. “What makes you think he was behind it?”

“Because that led to Germany refusing to rejoin Council and supporting the Commander directly,” Ali finished. “After the Commander failed to protect Germany, the Chancellor was understandably displeased. Funny how quickly he was replaced with someone the Commander supports.”

Unfortunately, that was a tactic he could fully see the Commander using. He’d seen a lot of terrible things, but the War on Terror had been especially brutal. “I suspect there’s more,” He said wearily.

“There is some good news,” Ali answered, a satisfied smile growing on his face. “Some of the Councilors are starting to realize how badly they’ve blundered this. Unfortunately, the Commander has realized that and is doing his best to ensure that _everyone_ from the Council is excluded. The current legal war for the dreadnaught wreckage is his doing, a clever move to keep us from acquiring the technology.”

“If this is all true, why have you not done anything?” Herman demanded. “With all this suspicious and theory, you should have _something_ more!”

“That is where you come in,” Ali explained nodding his head. “The reason the Commander’s been able to get away with so much is that we failed to provide adequate oversight. We believed the staff would report any violations, but the Commander is more…charismatic…than we anticipated. We need you there to make sure the Commander conducts this war in accordance with the laws and standards of ethics the United Nations expects.”

“Agreed,” Herman nodded. “Though I don’t imagine he’ll be pleased.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” Ali warned. “You’re heading into enemy territory. The Commander will likely do everything to impede and frustrate you. Don’t give him a reason to dismiss you; he’s intelligent and resourceful and if we want to remove him, we need to do it in a way that will be undisputed by law.”

“I can promise that any violations will be reported,” Herman promised. “If the Commander is in violation of anything, I will be sure to report it.”

“That is all we want,” Ali nodded. “Though following the law is something the Commander appears to have trouble with. You’ll have as much authorization as you need. If the Commander gives you trouble, just inform the Council. That will put him in his place.”

“When will I leave?” Herman asked.

“A few hours,” Ali answered. “I’ll ensure someone shows you the way.”

“Excellent,” Herman replied with a nod. “I’ll ensure the Commander is brought into line.”

Ali extended a hand which he took. “That relieves me more than you know. Good luck.”

Herman nodded and walked out the door, thoughts and conflicting emotions running through his head.

***

It turned out he didn’t have to look for Tamara, as she’d apparently never left the area. Leaning against the wall as he walked out, arms crossed, she seemed fairly nonchalant as he glared at her. “You knew the Commander was alive.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Everyone on the Council does,” she shrugged. “So yes, Ali insisted he be the one to tell you, otherwise I’d have said so from the start.”

“Funny,” he commented as he walked up to her. “I’m surprised you’d listen to him since you clearly despise each other.”

“Simply put, I was placating him,” she answered calmly. “Had I ruined the little speech he no doubt gave to you, I’d have had to put up with his borderline harassment for a few weeks. Frankly, I have more important matters to focus on than a superficial power struggle.”

“Fine,” Herman stated wearily. “You wanted to talk to me after. Make your case, since that’s clearly your intention.”

“My intention is nothing more than to ensure you have a perspective from both sides,” she attempted to reassure him. “Councilor Ennor made his case, now you should hear from the other side.”

She waved forward and began walking. “Councilor Ennor probably painted a highly grim picture about the state of the war.”

“Less about the war,” Herman corrected. “More about the apparent power consolidation taking place within XCOM as well as suspected ethics violations.”

“’Power consolidation’?” she sniffed. “To Councilor Ennor, if his subordinates do not abide by his every command, he automatically assumes they are plotting against him.”

“I feel his concern is warranted,” Herman shook his head. “Putting a convicted war criminal in charge of XCOM can only lead to bad things.”

“I disagree,” Tamara stated flatly. “The Commander has done exactly what we wanted him to. His sole purpose was to take command of XCOM and defend Earth from the alien threat. And judging by the results, I think he’s succeeding.”

“I don’t think I would call Hamburg a success,” Herman countered.

“If the Commander had not intervened, that city would no longer exist,” Tamara pointed out. “Not to mention he successfully dismantled the protest rings plaguing the country.”

Herman frowned. “Ennor didn’t mention that.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Tamara stated smugly. “That doesn’t fit into his narrative. The truth of the matter is that the war is beginning to turn in our favor, and I firmly believe that can be attributed to the Commander.”

“I admit, I’m surprised,” Herman commented. “I wouldn’t have expected you to support him.”

“Why not?” She asked curiously, it sounded like a genuine inquiry. “Is it because I’m Russian?”

“That, in addition to the regular…issues…people take with him.”

He saw her lips curl into a smile at that. “You assume that just because he killed our president, I should automatically be against him,” she paused and shrugged. “Perhaps I would be, had he been wrong. But something people tend to forget is that the Commander always provided evidence when he executed someone of importance. True, I would have preferred he be executed the lawful way, but I shed no tears that he was killed. So no need to get offended on my behalf. As it stands, most Russians feel the same way.”

“You almost sound like you admire him,” Herman stated, trying not to sound disbelieving.

“From a purely militaristic standpoint, I do,” she agreed. “Now clearly, he fails on the moral and ethical fronts, but we are at war. I can overlook my personal issues with his methods as long as he gets results.”

“You have to realize he might turn against you.” Herman pointed out.

“What Ennor doesn’t understand is this,” Tamara answered coldly. “The Commander doesn’t work like that. He won’t do a thing unless we give him a reason to. He’s denounced us in the past for sure, but even during the War on Terror, he never acted against us. Hell, he even assisted General Van Doorn when capturing Syria. Ennor’s constant moral crusade is only going to provoke him into doing exactly what he’s trying to prevent.”

“But _is_ he actually cooperating with you?” Herman pressed. “From Ennor’s description, it sounds like the Commander is hoarding all the resources to himself.”

“A lie,” she stated flatly. “The Commander _has_ provided some materials he’s recovered. It’s just not as much as the good councilor would like.”

“And the Commander forcing a legal war for the dreadnought resources?” he asked.

“That I’m not sure,” Tamara admitted, for the first time showing some uncertainty. “Provided he is behind it, the only reasonable motive would be to keep the resources out of China. A reasonable motive, but I’m not sure it’s the correct one.”

“I’m assuming you opposed giving him more oversight,” Herman guessed.

“The last thing he needs is oversight,” Tamara stated firmly. “You of all people should know that politics and war don’t mesh. The only thing oversight will serve to accomplish is to turn the Commander against us, and I’d prefer to keep him focused on the aliens.”

“But if he’s conducting everything according to the rules, he shouldn’t have anything to worry about,” Herman stated. “Unless of course he _is_ hiding something.”

“Everyone is hiding something,” Tamara insisted in mock exasperation. “More oversight is only going to force him to work harder to hide it. He isn’t going to stop simply because someone is there watching him. Sorry to let you down there.”

“Then why did you put my name forward if you’re so opposed to the idea?” Herman demanded, pursing his lips.

“Truthfully, if we wanted too, we probably could have stopped it,” Tamara admitted. “But I saw an opportunity. Instead of turning the Commander against us, we could provide him a qualified individual with a purpose _besides_ watching him. This is a chance to establish some tangible goodwill between XCOM and the Council. I don’t want you to go as an observer, Herman, I want you to be partner to him.”

“A partner to the _Commander_ ,” Herman corrected grimly, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. “You understand what you’re asking?”

“I do,” Tamara stated. “And I stand by it. We can’t afford to make the Commander our enemy, especially as he’s in charge of XCOM. Watch for violations as per your directive, but for the good of the Council and humanity, I would ask that your primary objective be ensuring that we win this war.”

“And if I do find something that violates our laws?” Herman asked. “Should I ignore it in just because we’re at war?”

Tamara was silent for a few moment. “I’d advise you use your best judgment on that. Ask yourself if it’s really worth jeopardizing everything to have a clear conscience.” She paused. “And if you absolutely _must_ report everything you see, I advise you do not contact Councilor Ennor. Contact me instead.”

“Councilor Ennor is my superior,” Herman stated incredulously. “Contacting you instead would break the chain of command. I could get prosecuted for that.”

“Incorrect,” she said with a smile. “Ennor was just the one who asked to speak to your first. He is the face of his side, as I am mine. We are both at the same level in terms of rank, as all the councilors are. He just likes to think himself the unofficial head of this Council. You would be breaking no rules my reporting to me instead.”

“And how will I know what I report will change anything?” Herman demanded, waving an arm to the side. “You might simply ignore a potentially dangerous violation since you clearly support him.”

“I assure you, if the charge is serious and with evidence to back it up, I will take the necessary action,” Tamara promised, nodding solemnly. “But Ennor will use even the smallest violation as justification for removing the Commander.”

“If it’s within the law…” Herman began when Tamara interrupted.

“It’s not that simple,” she scowled. “Ennor seems to think that if he orders the Commander to step down, he’s just going to do it. That’s not going to happen and everyone not blinded by self-righteousness knows it. We would lose XCOM for good and then the Earth. I’m trying to prevent a catastrophe and you have the power ensure _everyone_ stays on good terms.”

They stopped walking and Herman realized they were in a hanger of some kind. An odd looking aircraft of some kind rested on the ground. Engines appeared to be built into the wings. An advanced propulsion system? _Interesting._

“Your ride,” Tamara noted. “Perform your duties at your discretion, but I ask that you think about what I said.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Then good luck,” she nodded toward him. “I hope to speak to you soon.”

She turned and left curtly, leaving him alone. He shook his head, trying to clear it as much as possible. Quite honestly, he didn’t have a clue what to do. Tamara had clearly been planning her own speech for some time, and he found it honestly rather convincing. But the issue was that she clearly had an agenda as well, something he couldn’t forget.

Despite what she said, he wasn’t at all comfortable with a war criminal in charge, let alone working with him. He needed to go there, speak with the man himself, perhaps then he’d have a clearer picture of what to do. At least the sides were clearly defined here, and unfortunately, it didn’t look like he’d be able to stay neutral this time.

He sighed. Well, he had plenty of time to think about this on the way there. Might as well get a head start. On that thought, he began walking toward the odd transport that would take him to the Citadel.

 


	4. Alien Abduction: South Korea

 

_Skyranger, En Route to Abduction Zone_

The armor fit him surprisingly well. Snug and solid, it afforded him a surprising degree of flexibility. He hadn’t had the opportunity to fully test it out yet, but was fairly certain he would be able to perform as well as in the 1st Airborne Brigade

Soran Kakusa was still a little shocked that he’d been sent at all to XCOM. The organization had been widely discussed within the Japanese military, especially after some of the air force had assisted in the downing of the alien dreadnaught. The organization was of particular interest to him and his friends, especially since the future of Earth would likely lie in their hands.

But as far as he’d known, no Japanese soldier had been recruited into the illusive organization, though that wasn’t saying much since if it had happened anyway, he probably wouldn’t have known about it. He wasn’t sure why he’d been selected out of everyone in the Brigade. True, he’d made some inquiries and expressed an interest, but honestly hadn’t expected much to happen so quickly. Yet soon after he’d been informed that he was to be transferred to the division.

Everything had happened fast after that. Within a few days, he’d been shipped off to someplace called the Citadel, which he’d been told was in America. He hadn’t been the only one to arrive either, the rest of the newly recruited soldiers riding with him were also from different countries across the world.

But none of them were on this particular flight, the men and women beside him were all veterans of this war.

He’d barely settled in when he’d been assigned to a squad with instructions to investigate alien activity. He had no clue where they were headed or what to expect beyond a fight. He knew what kinds of aliens existed, thanks to a handbook XCOM had provided in addition to their archives. It was going to be vastly different to actually face them in an XCOM uniform.

The secrecy was apparently normal, according to Marten, a man who’d been sort of his unofficial guide when he arrived. The young Iranian struck him as somewhat arrogant, but he’d been helpful all the same. Apparently, the exact nature and location of the mission was kept secret until the team was on their way with only a few exceptions.

A rather clever security precaution if that was its intended purpose. Keeping information like that from all but a select few reduced the risk of the mission being compromised dramatically. Of course, it wouldn’t _completely_ remove the risk, but the reduction couldn’t be ignored.

Still, doing something like this without proper preparation was foreign to him. Typically missions for him often consisted of a few days warning and briefing before they even made preparations to move out. He was somewhat surprised that no one had ever complained or even discussed the lack of preparation, but no one seemed to care that much.

An odd bunch, for sure.

“What time do you usually get the orders?” Soran asked, hoping that was the correct order of words. The English language was one he wasn’t completely fluent in yet, though he expected he would be within a few weeks given that it seemed to be the primary language spoken within XCOM.

“Depends,” Marten shrugged, tapping his laser rifle. “It’s usually a few minutes before we actually deploy, it really depends on the mission area.”

“Quite honestly, I think it’s whenever the Commander wants it to be,” the Australian who called herself Eden Rayna answered, lacing her fingers together. “But since we’ve been in here almost a half-hour with nothing, I’m going to guess that it’s not urgent and on the other side of the world.”

“Speculation is an alien abduction,” the hulking man across from him, Anius Creed, added. “And because Kakusa, Wong and Carmelita are all here together, I suspect that we’re heading towards either Japan or China.”

That would be an odd move. Soran doubted that the aliens would move on China so soon after what had happened, the Chinese military would be on extremely high alert, making any abduction operations extremely risky at best. Japan, possible, but its proximity to China also made it a dangerous target.

Soran glanced over at the woman apparently called Carmelita. She hadn’t uttered a word through the entire flight, only clasping her hands together and resting her forearms on her knees. Something about her immediately put him on guard, and despite the casual posture, he could tell she was dangerous.

Hm. She was from South Korea, which suggested she’d been part of the many special forces units operating there. Carmelita….given what he’d learned about the country, that was an odd name for that part of the world. Which implied that wasn’t her real name. At first he wondered if it was some unofficial rule for soldiers to “westernize” their names upon entry.

Something he dismissed once he noted the names of several of the other soldiers. Cai Wong, the Chinese Jinan on this mission didn’t appear to have changed his name, and several others bearing names matching their ethnicity and country. So yes, he doubted that was her real name and if so, raised a number of questions.

Questions he’d try to answer if he had the time. Though between fighting the aliens, he suspected that there’d be little time to answer rather low-profile questions such as that. She was without a doubt the most intriguing of all of them here. Cai Wong was another one he was watching. He wasn’t particularly fond of the Chinese, but the Jinan operative hadn’t done anything against him. Yet, at any rate.

He did admit that he was curious to see the SEAL in action. Creed had been designated Squad Overseer, though the reason for which hadn’t been disclosed to the squad. The entire title of “Squad Overseer” was…confusing to him. Soran was used to very clear hierarchies and ranks. A private stayed a private until he advanced or was demoted, titles and designations weren’t handed out at random.

Yet that seemed to be the case with this particular designation.  From what Marten had explained, it could be given to any soldier at the Commander’s discretion. It apparently was temporary as well; previous squad overseers could operate together without incident and it wasn’t even considered a demotion either.

 _“It’s less of a rank,”_ Marten had explained. _“More of a…let’s say temporary directorial position. The Squad Overseer is the undisputed leader, but it’s not a rank as you understand it.”_

This Commander had very odd procedures to say the least.

“Kakusa, right?” Eden asked, leaning towards him.

“Soran,” he amended. People generally were more comfortable using first names and he didn’t see a reason not to share his, especially since they’d be serving together for a while.

“First time fighting aliens?” She asked. From her tone, she suspected she was smiling even if the helmet hid it.

He gave a curt nod. “Yes, it is.”

“Nervous?”

He shook his head. “No.”

That answer didn’t seem to be what she was expecting judging from the way she sharply sat back up. It also attracted the attention of Carmelita who turned her head towards him and held his gaze for a few seconds. “You should be,” she stated, he voice much softer and melodic than he’d expected.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “But I’ve seen enough that facing a few sectoids and drones doesn’t scare me.”

“Pray that’s all we face,” Wong muttered, mostly to himself. “I doubt the aliens are bothering with such paltry forces anymore.”

“Agreed,” Creed nodded firmly. “The days of sectoid and drone teams are over.”

“Remember that the aliens have to have limited resources,” Soran reminded them. “At least from what I’ve seen, every army, no matter how large, has a finite number of resources. XCOM dealt them a serious blow when you destroyed the dreadnought and it will take time to replace. They might need to conserve what forces they have until they can get more.”

Carmelita cocked her head at him skeptically. “For some reason, I have trouble believing that. We dealt a blow to the aliens, yes. But I highly doubt killing one crew of a dreadnought is going to set them back in terms of manpower not to mention their “finite” resources are probably more than all the countries of the world combined.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Eden shrugged.

 _“That is a question I’m interested in as well,”_ a new voice interrupted, coming from his helmet. _“This is the Commander to Spur Team, stand by for briefing.”_

All of the soldiers immediately sat up straighter and several clutched their weapons tighter. Finally, the voice of the illusive Commander he’d heard so much about when he arrived. By all accounts he was an excellent tactician and leader, not to mention actually respected by the soldiers. He’d also apparently involved himself in the actual war itself much more than was typical.

Hopefully he’d meet him at some point.

“What’s the op, Commander?” Creed asked.

 _“We’ve received report of an entire town gone dark in South Korea,”_ the Commander answered. Soran noted Carmelita tense up at that. Unsurprising, given it was her homeland. _“This is a larger town than they’ve hit before. Possibly up to ten thousand have been taken.”_

“How did no one notice?” Carmelita demanded, her tone incredulous. “ _Someone_ had to notice.”

 _“I suspect that the aliens want to make a statement after their loss,”_ the Commander continued grimly. _“I can think of several reasons why this didn’t elicit a quicker response. The most likely being the aliens devoted more resources or advanced units to increase their speed in subduing the town.”_

“Or using more advanced technology,” Wong guessed, clasping his hands together.

 _“Possible,”_ the Commander agreed. _“In any case, expect heavy contact once you touch down. I would expect the usual; sectoids, drones, thin men, mutons or possibly cyberdisks.”_

Soran frowned. One of those names hadn’t been in the handbook.

“Has the South Korean government been informed?” Creed asked.

 _“They were the ones who contacted us,”_ the Commander answered. _“They saved us an hour or two. So yes, they are aware and have dispatched several teams of the 707 th to the town.”_

“Are they aware of our arrival?” Creed asked warily.

 _“No,”_ the Commander answered reluctantly. _“The units are on radio silence until they arrive on-site and prepare to engage. You may encounter them before they’ve received word of your presence. Solder Alba, if necessary you might need to intervene.”_

“Understood,” Carmelita nodded. “I probably know several operatives deployed. They won’t be a problem.”

_“Excellent. Find out what happened and execute any aliens you encounter. If possible, secure the site before the South Korean military arrives. I’d prefer they not acquire any alien tech.”_

“We’ll do our best,” Creed answered. “However, what should we do if they insist?”

 _“Allow them several of the corpses left, and only the corpses,”_ the Commander instructed. _“Any alien technology should be secured by our team. Make sure this is conveyed to the South Koreans. I’ll begin contacting the President immediately.”_

“We’ll do our best,” Creed assured him. “Should we restrain our usage of explosives to preserve the tech?”

 _“Vahlen would no doubt appreciate it,”_ the Commander answered, sounding somewhat amused. _“But no. Do whatever you need to survive. More alien technology will come, soldiers are harder to replace.”_

“Understood,” Creed answered.

_“You know what to do. Citadel Command, out.”_

Huh. The rumors he’d heard about the Commander restricting the recovery of alien tech appeared to be true. It made sense in a way, no other country had begun using alien tech openly. He’d heard that Germany was beginning to incorporate some, probably as a consequence of an alliance with XCOM.

Israel supposedly was allied with them as well, though that was speculation he’d heard within the ranks, not from anyone with any official authority. He honestly hoped it was just a rumor. Israel with alien technology was extremely disturbing. Reading up on history, recent and ancient, he had no doubt that Israel would seek retribution on the Middle East if they had the means.

Quite honestly, they _might_ be able to cause enough damage to cripple the region for generations, but the United Nations kept them in line. But he suspected it was only a matter of time before that organization fell, that would open the door for the possibility of an Israeli conquest.

Scratch that, it would open the door for _any_ country to take advantage. From his point of view, the United Nations was the only thing keeping the more radical countries like Israel and North Korea in line, not to mention the other superpowers like China and America. He was extremely curious to find out if the rumors he’d heard about tension between the United Nations and XCOM were true as well.

Given what he’d just heard, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

 _“This is Burning Sky to Spur Team,”_ their pilot informed them as the white lights in the skyranger flashed and turned a solid red. _“We’re five minutes for the LZ. I’ll maneuver you over the most populated area. If anyone’s still alive, they’ll probably be there.”_

“Understood, Burning Sky,” Creed answered, rolling his shoulders. “We’ll be ready.”

Soran looked around. “Quick question,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “What’s a muton?”

The soldiers looked between each other. “Ah, right,” Eden answered, letting out a low chuckle. “You’ve seen them before. I believe the handbook refers to them as “Alien shock troopers” or something like that. Hulking bipeds clad in green armor, very strong and dangerous. We got tired of referring to them as the “Green aliens” and someone called them mutons once,” she shrugged. “The name stuck, and no one had anything better. I suspect whoever writes those handbooks will update in a week or so?”

“Just like that?” Soran questioned, frowning. “You actually use the nicknames you come up with as official designations?”

The soldiers clearly hadn’t thought much about that before as they looked between each other. “Huh, guess not,” Marten answered, somewhat amused. “Although, I’m kind of surprised it took you this long to figure out. You think the name _thin man_ was invented by some scientist in a lab?”

“At least some of them were,” Soran noted. “I’m pretty sure none of you came up with _chryssalid._ ”

“Nope, all Vahlen’s doing,” Eden answered. “I rather like it.”

Carmelita shot her a stern look. “There is nothing to like about those creatures.”

Eden actually sounded apologetic. “Ah, sorry. Didn’t think.”

Soran looked between them. He was clearly missing something, but he had to agree with Carmelita. The chryssalids were unsettling and unnatural to him. He didn’t know whether their…unique reproduction system was natural or a result of genetic tampering.

Either way, that species should have been eradicated long ago. No good could come from using them, even as weapons.

“Prepare to deploy,” Creed ordered as he stood and grabbed her rifle. Soran grabbed the laser variant of an SMG firmly in his hands. Amazing how light it was, much different than the weapons he was used to using.

He felt the skyranger slowing down until it was hovering over the town. With a hiss the ramp opened with a hiss and squeal. Ropes fell from hidden hatches above the tail to the ground. He looked around and saw several of the soldiers pulling out grappling equipment and had to snort.

At this height? Please, he’d jumped off cliffs higher than this. Moving swiftly, he grasped the rope and leapt off, descending into the silent town.

***

Soran hit the ground hard, though his legs absorbed the initial impact while the armor absorbed the rest. He grinned, he was liking this armor more and more. A lot more than what he normally wore. Though to be fair, what he’d wore was to emphasize agility and quickness and not much else. Assassination and stealth, those were key. If he ever got into a firefight, something had gone very wrong.

So it was going to certainly be interesting for sure.

The rest of the squad landed behind him, though not nearly as gracefully.

“Risky,” Creed commented as he unhooked himself and the rope ascended back into the skyranger which flew off. “Good thing you didn’t let go.”

Soran threw a sidelong glance at him, which was probably lost from the helmet. “I completed higher jumps in _training_. This was trivial.”

“Fair enough,” Creed muttered. “But if you break your leg I’m pinning it all on you.”

“Fine by me,” Soran agreed as the rest of them dropped behind and beside them.

With everyone on the ground, Soran looked around the area for the first time. They’d landed in the middle of a street, run down apartments and houses on each side. The road was cracked, broken and tore up. All inexcusable driving conditions in most civilized countries, though Soran guessed this was normal here.

Old, abandoned cars sat empty alongside the road. Soran did a quick look and didn’t recognize a car newer than 2003, an indication of this town’s economic state. He walked over and took a closer look at the buildings. Mold, rot and decay had set in and the buildings were slowly, but surely falling apart. It wouldn’t take much to reduce this place to dust.

He pursed his lips as he raised his weapon, ready for any aliens heading his way. He’d heard about the conditions some of the South Koreans lived in, but had never seen firsthand. The shadow wars between the countries didn’t come without a cost and the citizens of South Korea were paying dearly for the mostly symbolic victories against the tyrannical state.

He apparently wasn’t the only one with that thought. “People have it tough here, it seems,” Cai noted as Carmelita readied her laser shotgun.

“It’s rather hard to have a prosperous economy when the nation above you wants your death,” she retorted icily. “The people have never had it easy here. This is nothing new.”

But probably better if South Korea didn’t wage a pointless war against their neighbor. However, Soran knew now was not the time for that and suspected that any argument not brought up in her favor would likely end badly for him. He’d have to know how far to push before even broaching that topic.

But that was a thought for another time.

Creed motioned forward with his rifle. “This is Squad Overseer Creed to Citadel Command. We’ve touched down and ready to proceed.”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ the Commander responded. _“Proceed.”_

“Central, anything ahead?” Marten asked.

 _“Working,”_ came the voice of Central Officer Bradford, a man that had struck Soran as a rather by-the-book soldier. Reliable, but lacked creativity. Excellent for administrative purposes, but useless in nearly everything else. But the man seemed competent at his job as long as he stuck to it.

 _“Head signatures ahead,”_ Bradford finally answered. _“Can’t tell if they’re friendlies or not. No electronic signatures, but I’d be ready for anything.”_

“Onscreen,” Creed asked and the small map of the area in the top left corner of his HUD was replaced with the map displaying the heat signatures. They appeared a short distance ahead, a good number of the signatures appeared clustered in one of the buildings. It seemed roughly about a forth of the force detected.

“Excellent Central, thanks,” Creed nodded and motioned them forward.

“We could blow the building,” Carmelita suggested. “I can’t be the only one who noticed them clustered.”

Soran was surprised that was the first solution suggested. “They might be civilians,” he pointed out instantly. “We need to be sure before blowing it up.”

Carmelita snorted. “You’re new, so I’ll tell you what’s happened,” she waved her hand around the abandoned town. “No one is here. Everyone is gone. Everyone _except_ the aliens.”

“Soran has a point,” Eden pointed out, walking up beside him. “We should at least make sure before reducing a building to ash.”

“Enough.” Creed raised a fist so they immediately stopped chatting.

Once he lowered it he continued. “Here’s what we’ll do.” He pointed at Soran. “You have a background in agility and scouting. Recon the area and report what you see. We’ll move into position around the building.”

An acceptable compromise. “Yes, sir.” He nodded and dashed off, sticking to the side of the buildings which threw shadows obscuring his movements. He was careful to make as little noise as possible, not as easy as he was used to with the armor, but he managed.

Height. He needed to get on the roof. As he reached the wall he contemplated saving some time but decided against it, not worth the risk. Instead he simply found handholds and footholds and scaled the wall, a relatively easy task given its decrepit state.

Once on the roof, he began sneaking on the ground until he had a good look on the building where the aliens or civilians were hiding. He took a breath, closed his eyes and concentrated. There was no way he would be able to get a visual without blowing his cover so he did the next best thing.

He listened.

It took a few minutes, but a low chittering and growling slowly became audible. He pursed his lips. The grunting he had an idea of, but didn’t know for sure. But he’d recognize the chatter of the mouthless sectoids any day. “Aliens in the building,” he reported to Creed. “Sectoids, possibly some mutons.”

 _“Copy.”_ He looked over to see Creed and the rest of the soldiers on the ground, hiding behind abandoned cars and apartment walls. _“Wong, Rayna, level this building. Kakusa, Carmelita, be ready for anything.”_

 _“Will do,”_ Cai pulled the rocket launcher from behind his back and aimed at the base of the building. _“Ladies first.”_

 _“How sweet,”_ Eden replied lightly as she pulled several frag grenades from her belt and tossed them into the building in quick succession. _“Frags out!”_

 _“Firing rocket,”_ Cai stated and a few seconds later a massive explosion erupted from the building which crumbled to the ground with a thunderous crash.

 _“Here they come!”_ Carmelita shouted as she began firing behind the building. Soran looked beyond the smoke to see six of the mutons converging on their position. Just as large and intimidating as he remembered. Their normally pristine green armor was caked with dirt and mud.

The aliens took positions inside more abandoned buildings and cars. Within seconds the battlefield was filled with green bolts of plasma and red lasers lighting up the night. Soran aimed at one of the mutons hiding behind a car. Instead of shooting at the moving alien, he shot the stationary car instead.

The alien reacted exactly as he expected and began bolting for new cover once he saw what Soran intended to do. “Get the retreating one!” he called as the alien raced away. Luckily Eden noticed and her laser beam cut through the alien armor, forcing it to the ground where it crawled away, leaving a trail of yellow blood.

Soran nodded in resignation. A mortal wound. He’d have preferred a clean death, but such was war. He turned his attention towards two mutons shooting out the window of an abandoned home. A home that was quickly being torn apart from the lasers cutting into the sides.

The rest of the squad’s cover fared little better. Plasma appeared to be doing more damage to the buildings than the lasers and if they kept up the assault, more buildings were going to collapse.

Creed seemed to notice the same thing. “Wong! Rocket on those two!”

“Cover me!” Cai shouted and Eden and Creed provided enough suppressive fire, lasers fired off in shorts bursts which allowed Cai to lower himself to one knee and line up a rocket.

“Rocket’s away!” He shouted as the missile screamed towards the building where it exploded into a burst of flame and shrapnel. The mutons screamed and roared as the shrapnel shredded their armor and the fire scored their exposed skin, blinding them. Their suffering was literally short-lived as they were killed by the falling rubble as the building collapsed on them.

Soran didn’t believe the mutons were particularly intelligent, but down half their force against an XCOM squad, they knew when they were outmatched. The muton furthest away turned and ran. Soran fired off some ineffective shots, but his laser SMG was useless as such long range.

“One ran off!” He shouted as the squad advanced slowly. “He’s probably bringing friends!”

“Copy that,” Creed replied wearily as he began pinning down a muton behind an old truck. “Carmelita! Get the one by the truck. Reyna! Finish up with the last one.”

“Copy!” Both women acknowledged and began moving. Eden tossed another grenade towards the muton hiding behind a crumbling building. The explosion didn’t hurt the alien, but it did provide a clean shot to Marten who melted the alien’s face off with the burning laser.

Carmelita dashed around the car with speed the surprised Soran. He hadn’t suspected she would be as fast as him. The muton hadn’t expected it either and clumsily attempted to turn only to receive the full force of her laser shotgun tearing through his armor and reducing his innards to liquid. Not quite dead and in a pool of blood, the muton attempted to crawl back as Carmelita stood over him.

Holstering her weapon, she pulled out one of the knives she had strapped to her chest and taking a reverse grip, knelt down and stabbed the muton in the eye. But not in one quick motion, very slowly and deliberately she sank the blade, ensuring the alien be in as much pain as possible before death. When the alien finally stopped thrashing and roaring, she stood and strode back over.

Soran shook his head and leapt off the roof. Once on the ground, he began walking to where the squad was regrouping. Carmelita was cleaning the yellow blood off her blade and once done, slid it back into its sheath.

“That was unnecessary,” he told her, unable to keep the disapproval out of his voice.

She simply looked up at him, the helmet blocking any insight into her mind. Her voice was just as emotionless. “They deserved it,” she answered, as if that explained everything. “Each of them deserve far worse.”

He contemplated probing further but was interrupted when a hand grasped his forearm. Frowning, he turned to see Marten who shook his head silently. More questions for later, and he was liking Carmelita less and less.

“One escaped,” Creed recalled as he reloaded his laser rifle with a fresh pack. “I don’t think it’ll be difficult to find.”

Soran shook his head. “More are out there. He went to get reinforcements.”

“Then we hunt them down,” Carmelita stated, reaching for her shotgun. “Let’s-“ She abruptly stopped when the sound of automatic fire filled the air off in the distance.

“The South Korean soldiers,” Marten muttered already running off in that direction. “We need to get up there.”

“Let’s go!” Creed ordered and they began running towards the gunfire.

***

To their credit, the South Koreans were putting up a good fight.

But against four mutons and three sectoids, not even the best of the 707th could last forever. At least three human corpses lay on the ground, their bodies torn open from plasma bolts.

They’d managed to get one of the mutons somehow, the body with a bullet hole through the eye indicated the cause of death. A lucky shot most likely. Bullets washed off the alien armor like water, barely making dents in the alloy. Even the shots that hit the heads of the mutons were doing barely more than irritating it. Conventional weaponry simply was ineffective against alien tech.

The sectoids were keeping to the back, as they could actually be hurt from the bullet. But instead they employed their psionic abilities, and judging from the screams, cries and curses, sounds not expected from an elite special forces unit, it was working.

Unfortunately for them, the squad stormed onto the sectoids flank and were quickly shot up by Carmelita in quick succession. The mutons heard the commotion and quickly scrambled to cover, which they had eschewed when facing the South Korean operatives. The burning lasers from the rifles instantly killed one and left smoldering gashes weeping with yellow blood on the rest.

The South Korean operatives took advantage of the opening XCOM provided and let loose with their own weapons on the aliens when their backs were turned. Even in their weakened state, the muton weren’t bothered by the hail of lead tearing into them. Roaring in pain and anger, the ignored the XCOM squad and began a last effort to kill the South Korean operatives.

Marten and Creed fired two scalding beams into the back of one muton and it collapsed to the ground, a sizzling hole in its chest. The remaining muton was targeted by Carmelita who fired two quick laser blasts from her shotgun, both at the knees. The lasers tore through the weakened armor and flesh.

The legless alien fell to the ground, bleeding from a dozen small wounds as he tried in vain to crawl away from the woman approaching whose armor was stained with the blood of his comrades, of whatever the aliens referred to them as. Carmelita showed the same amount of compassion and empathy as she had to the last one.

Without nearly as much ceremony, she pulled out her knife and calmly slit the throat of the alien and stood back up and let it choke on it’s own blood. An agonizing death, even if it could happen quickly. She apparently put that out of her mind as soon as she finished because she immediately began shouting out to the South Korean operatives who cautiously approached her in their own language.

She took off her helmet and Soran was once again surprised with what he saw. Cropped black hair framed a round brown-skinned face. She definitely retained Asian characteristics and also had a light scar on her cheek. Definitely a face most men would consider attractive, but definitely _not_ the face of the cold-blooded killer he’d seen today.

Her pleasantly melodic voice carried throughout the silent battlefield and the remains of the South Korean operatives came down and joined the squad. Eight were still alive, a number that was either very good or very bad depending on how many units were sent. It seemed that at least some of them knew Carmelita, which confirmed his suspicion that she’d been part of the South Korean special forces.

After a lengthy conversation he sadly wasn’t able to translate, she walked over to Creed. “They’ve agreed to help us. They’ll follow your lead for now, if you have any specific orders, I’ll relay them.”

Creed thought for a moment. “Tell them the alien tech is dangerous and should only be handled by our people. Then tell them to have their weapons ready. I don’t think that was the reinforcements that muton ran back for.”

Carmelita nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Another interesting thing. She’d agreed to deny her country assets rather easily. Provided that _was_ what she was doing. For all he knew, she was sharing vital information. No. She wouldn’t do that. The helmet cams recorded everything and he had no doubt the Commander was going to have someone translate this entire exchange word for word.

Creed motioned them forward, into the heart of the town. The XCOM squad took point while the South Korean operatives stayed closely behind. Soran was starting to wonder if they’d killed the muton after all. No. He remembered that the muton running away had dirty and soiled armor. The group they’d just fought had been the normal pristine green.

Before they’d ruined it, that is.

One of the Korean operatives suddenly stopped and raised a hand, saying something intensely. “Listen,” Carmelita translated, raising her weapon. “Something is out there.”

Everyone went silent and then Soran heard it; the faint sound of what could be mistaken for a miniature engine. Bradford had said no electronic signatures were detected, so either he was wrong…or…

Marten apparently arrived at the same conclusion. “Floaters!” He yelled ducking off to the side. “Take cover!”

Everyone ran for cover, just in time to as floaters burst through weakened roofs and windows. The mutilated creatures shrieked when they saw the soldiers and wasted no time opening fire. XCOM and the Korean soldiers returned with laser and automatic fire. Creating a laser trap was the best strategy for dealing with floaters and it worked beautifully here as well.

Driven only by rage and pain, the aliens were quick, fast and focused. But they were also easily tricked and were able to be pushed into traps set easily by an experienced XCOM squad. Within a few minute they’d pushed and tricked the floaters into flying into laser after deadly laser. The unarmored aliens provided virtually no resistance as the laser cut a clean line through them.

The corpses littering the ground, the last muton finally charged out, roaring. In pain or terror, Soran didn’t know and at the moment, didn’t care. It fired off a few bolts from the plasma rifle it wielded, but it was thoroughly and completely outmatched. Throughout the rain of lasers and bullets, Soran didn’t see who actually claimed the final kill, only that it was not him.

Silence fell over the town.

“Tell them I appreciate their assistance,” Creed told Carmelita. “Our teams will begin to collect the artifacts shortly.”

While Carmelita translated, Cai came up. “Good job,” he congratulated. “You did well for your first time.”

“I thank you,” Soran answered, looking around the abandoned town. “Though I wish we could have saved the people here.”

“So do I,” Cai agreed, nodding. “But until then we’ll just keep doing the same thing we’ve been doing since they made the mistake of coming to our world.” His tone turned cold. “And once we drive them off, we’ve follow them and hunt them to extinction.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving Soran more concerned than ever before.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Upper Egypt

_Personnel:_

Spur 1 _(Squad Overseer)_ : Specialist Anius Creed

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Spur 2: Specialist Carmelita Alba

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

Spur 3: Specialist Marten El-Amin

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Spur 4: Specialist Cai Wong

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 8

Spur 5: Specialist Eden Rayna

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 4

Spur 6: Specialist Soran Kakusa

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot: Riley Ignis: Call sign – “Burning Sky”

 

_Artifacts Recovered:_

-2x Sectoid Corpses (Severe Damage)

-3x Sectoid Corpses (Moderate Damage)

-4x Muton Corpses (Severe Damage)

-8x Muton Corpses (Moderate Damage)

-3x Floater Corpses (Severe Damage)

-3x Floater Corpses (Moderate Damage)

-22x Alien Alloys

-40x Alien Weapon Fragments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The Representative

 

_The Citadel, Hanger_

The skyranger shuddered and after a few seconds became still. Herman listened as the engines died down and the lights in the skyranger flashed to a solid red. Unstrapping, he stood and waited for the ramp to lower. The aircraft was surprisingly compact and yet also seemed to provide enough room for a small squad of soldiers.

Which was rather impressive, considering that militaries tended to…overcompensate sometimes. At least in terms of getting the most out of their vehicles. Something like this would have been deemed impractical due to the low amount of soldiers who could be carried. In fact, he could have sworn he’d seen designs similar to this skyranger about…was it five years ago? Designs NATO had rejected due to “Extreme cost.” Not that it mattered too much, but it was still interesting to note.

It would also be interesting to see what other abandoned ideas XCOM might have implemented.

With a hiss the ramp lowered and Herman walked out into what was apparently the hanger.  It was surprisingly empty, no fuel barrels or many vehicles. Looking over to the corner he saw another skyranger parked in addition to the one in front of him. Hm. He wondered how many XCOM had. Looking up at the cavern walls he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

A rather interesting and clever design choice, he had to admit. Instead of storing XCOM’s fighter jets in rows within the hanger, they were instead placed into slots carved out from the walls. There were six in total, and he didn’t see how they were able to be deployed, but he was impressed they’d taken advantage of the unusual base location.

The Citadel…that alone told him he wasn’t dealing with the typical military commander. Nearly all military personnel stuck with basic, generic names like “Alpha,” “Theta,” and so on. There were a variety of reasons for that, but calling an _actual_ military base something out of a novel or movie wasn’t exactly common and typically discouraged.

Sort of a shame, but he had to admit it was a little neat to actually have a base called as such. The _Citadel_ had a nice ring to it. Remembering why he was here, he glanced around wondering where he should go. There didn’t seem to be any welcoming committee here and the hanger was almost deserted as it was.

“Enjoy the flight?” A voice asked beside him.

Herman turned to see the man he presumed was his pilot approaching. Wearing a typical black aviation suit with his helmet tucked under his arm, the man appeared to be simply appraising him. His brown hair was mostly unkempt but his eyes were striking. At the moment, Herman couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

“No issues,” Herman responded. “Never flown on one of those before. I assume it’s always that smooth?”

The man didn’t crack a smile. “Only on missions when everything goes well.”

“That not happen often?” Herman asked, shifting to face him better.

The man waved the hand not holding his helmet dismissively. “Nah, but enough to make me somewhat apprehensive.” He extended a hand. “Jason Olgard, call sign ‘Big Sky.’”

Herman shook it. “Herman Diederick, representative of the Council.”

Jason eyed him, clearly being as guarded as possible. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

Herman gave him a small smile. “And I presume you have an opinion already?”

“Just curiosity,” Jason answered warily. “Wondering why the Council sends someone now.”

“They simply wish to make sure everything is up to standard,” Herman assured him, not even remotely convinced that the pilot would believe him. “Nothing more or less.”

His assumption seemed to be true. “Hmm,” Jason answered, keeping his neutral tone. “We’ll see.”

Might as well see what he could get. It never hurt to speak with people who questioned your motives, in fact, it was an excellent opportunity to change their minds. And he had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be doing a lot of that around here. “You have doubts?”

“Let’s just say I’m worried,” Jason replied slowly, his face tightening to restrain emotion. “Things always seems to…what’s the word… _deteriorate_ when the UN tries to get involved.”

Hm. Skeptical of the United Nations **;** not uncommon among military personnel and being part of NATO he could attest to some of the missteps of the United Nations. Unfortunately, that was often _all_ people remembered. “You do realize XCOM _is_ part of the United Nations,” Herman informed. “Even if it’s through the Council.”

Jason finally cracked a smile. “I’ve been on UN ops before, Representative, and I can assure you that this is not run like anything done by the United Nations.”

Probably true. The Commander preferred running things his own way and probably considered the procedures conducted by the Peacekeepers and NATO either a waste of time, or unnecessary. From the psychological profile he’d been provided on the Commander, he was very much a man of action. He didn’t spend any more days deliberating or discussing than he deemed was necessary. He saw what needed to be done in his eyes and immediately attempted to do it.

He could respect proactivity, but not at the expense of assurance. Herman tended to look more at the big picture including what happened _after_ the mission or operation was completed rather than the short term effects. And if the War on Terror had proven anything, it was that the Commander did _not_ look beyond his current objective.

Despite himself, he was growing more and more curious to meet him. Perhaps things would become clearer then. Still, he had to remember that he was not likely to be welcomed and that the Commander was a very intelligent man by all accounts. Despite his apparent dislike of politics, the Commander did seem to have a good grasp on them and would likely be very aware if he tried any kind of verbal trickery.

He’d probably not react well to it. Direct and straightforward, that was what dossier had said would be most likely to earn his respect. Best be polite at first and see where it got him.

“Well,” he finally answered, returning to the conversation. “I look forward to seeing how it differs. It might be a nice change of pace for me.”

“Hopefully you don’t find anything overly problematic,” Jason commented grimly. “The last thing we need is disruption.”

“Believe me, I understand how dangerous the alien threat is,” Herman assured him. “Nothing will be changed unless absolutely necessary.”

Jason gave one nod. “I hope you prove me wrong.”

Well, thing was off to an excellent start. He sincerely hoped that not _everyone_ was like this. “I intend to do my best. Now,” he looked around. “I suppose I should meet the Commander. I suppose you know where he is?”

“At the moment,” Jason looked up. “No. I’m not the one to give you directions. Your escort should be coming any second now.”

“I suppose it’s late?” Herman asked.

“Yes,” Jason nodded, shifting his helmet under his arm. “But we’ve got a squad coming back from a mission. We’re more focused on that.”

Ah, that made sense. “I understand,” Herman nodded. “I’ll wait as long as needed.”

“I’ll stay until he comes,” Jason said, flipping his helmet in his hands. “Wouldn’t want to leave you alone here.”

“Appreciated,” Herman answered, genuinely grateful for the offer. “So how many pilots do you have?”

“Skyranger or Raven?” Jason attempted to clarify. Herman supposed that the Ravens were those fighter jets. Well, he had time.

“Both.”

“For the skyrangers, just three,” Jason replied indicating the aircraft behind him. “Tristen and Riley, “Fallen Sky” and “Burning Sky” respectively. Then me, of course. We just got some new pilots and Ravens so I don’t know all the names, but we have six in total, though the Commander is looking to expand further.”

“A rather small air force,” Herman commented. “I’d think that you’d need more.”

“We do, no question,” Jason agreed emphatically. “But it’s an issue of time, capacity and funds. The details of which I’m not privy to, though the Commander might be more open with you. We’ve managed fine so far, but we know the air war is only going to get more intense.”

Herman recalled the alien dreadnaught and had to agree. “The aliens can’t be happy losing their dreadnaught.”

“No question,” Jason answered. “I’d wager-ah, seems your escort has arrived.”

About time. Herman turned around and his eyes widened in surprise. “General Van Doorn?” He exclaimed in surprise, certain his eyes weren’t playing tricks as the bald and cheerful man walked up in black military fatigues with the XCOM logo emblazoned on the shoulders.

“A pleasure to see you again, Herman,” Van Doorn answered happily as they grasped forearms as had been their custom and pulled into a quick embrace. Stepping back, Van Doorn continued. “You don’t know how relieved I was when I heard you would be the one coming.”

“What are you doing here?” Herman asked in amazement. “Last I heard you were called off to some meeting.”

“Long story,” Van Doorn answered with a smile. “Suffice it to say that I ran into a situation where XCOM had to come and extract me. After a series of interesting events, I decided to stay on and help here **.** ” He motioned to the door. “Come on, we can walk and talk at the same time.”

Herman walked up to his side and they began walking out of the hanger. He shook his head in disbelief. “I admit, I’m surprised you left NATO. And that no one told us.”

“Yes,” Van Doorn admitted wryly. “The Council wasn’t entirely happy with my decision, but this is where I belong. XCOM is our best chance against the aliens, whether the Council will admit it or not.”

 They walked in silence for a few seconds. “I suppose you know what I should expect,” Herman finally said. “Good or bad?”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “The Commander is…well, let’s say he’s not in favor of the Council taking a greater role in XCOM. I’ve managed to make him a little more open to you, so he probably won’t be as…hostile. But don’t expect complete cooperation right off the bat.”

Herman sighed. “I expected as much. But you know why I’m here, so is there anything I _will_ find.”

“Certainly,” Van Doorn agreed, surprising him. “But you and I both know that no military organization is going to be completely clean. I suppose it’s up to you to decide what you believe is worth reporting. You have a job and I understand that. There will be no opposition for me.”

“But I will from everyone else?” Herman finished wearily.

Van Doorn paused as the turned a corner. “That will honestly depend on how you conduct yourself. Be willing to work with us and you’ll gain more support. Dr. Shen isn’t opposed to you and neither am I, clearly. But everyone else is suspicious at least.”

“And what is your impression of the Commander?” Herman asked carefully.

The General hesitated before answering. “From working with him, I can say that he’s very determined, loyal to everyone under his command and…I suppose _decisive_ is the best word. But he’s fair and will listen to everyone before making a decision.”

“Is that for show or does he actually mean it?” Herman questioned. Often times stuff like that tended to be more…symbolic than actually looking for feedback.

“I believe he does,” Van Doorn answered carefully. “That being said, he is very much under the impression that his way is always the correct one. He has counter-arguments for most points brought up against him and seems to have used them enough that it’s almost rehearsed. Not to mention that his views generally line up strongly with the majority of our Internal Council.”

Hm. The more they talked, the more he got the impression that Van Doorn didn’t know the true identity of the Commander. By this point it should have been brought up at least once, unless he assumed the Council told him. There was a way to find out; simply asking would do the trick. But if Van Doorn _didn’t_ know, that would be a major misstep and cause a whole host of problems. Best to talk to the Commander first unless Van Doorn brought it up.

“I assume this Internal Council is the Commander’s body of advisors?” Herman asked as they walked into a lift that began rising.

“Yes,” Van Doorn nodded. “It’s members include our head of Engineering, Dr. Shen; our Central Officer, Bradford; our head of R&D, Dr. Vahlen and me.”

Vahlen. He’d heard that name before, though he couldn’t quite recall….he searched his mind for a minute until he recalled something. “Wasn’t Vahlen one of the scientists lost during the War on Terror?”

Van Doorn chuckled. “So I believed as well. Turns out it was just a cover, or so I’m told. But she’s perfectly alive and as brilliant as ever. A bit unsettling though.”

Yes. That matched up with what he now remembered about the woman. Cold, calculating, focused and brilliant. She was the kind of scientist who pushed ethics and morals aside in favor of pure scientific advancement. It seemed he was going to meet a host of interesting people.

 “I’d prefer not to upset the Commander on our first visit,” Herman finally said. “Anything I should do or avoid.”

“Speak to him as a soldier, not a diplomat or representative,” Van Doorn advised carefully. “He’ll respect you more, even if he still won’t like you. But he won’t hold back and neither should you, but be smart about it.”

“I’ll remember that,” Herman promised, preparing himself for the conversation ahead.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

Van Doorn had left to bring the representative to meet him. Well, he couldn’t put this off forever. Still, he wouldn’t let this ruin an excellent mission. The aliens had been defeated, no casualties and he’d convinced the South Korean president to let XCOM secure the area so “More wouldn’t be hurt.” It couldn’t have hurt that the special forces soldiers sent in had been rescued by XCOM and had witnessed a lethal demonstration of uncontained alien technology. A shame that the population had been abducted, but they sadly couldn’t have done anything to prevent that.

That being said, he wouldn’t have been _concerned_ if South Korea had insisted on some of the tech. Like Israel, they were generally concerned with matters closer to home than XCOM, the aliens or the world as a whole. But one issue was that he didn’t _know_ exactly what the country would do with a sudden explosion of technological advancement. But the biggest reason for him was that this might give South Korea advantage in their shadow war with their neighbor.

Not that he would be particularly _sad_ about that, but he was more concerned that would prompt North Korea to end the mostly one-sided war decisively. If South Korea was emboldened by their new advantage, a more public attack could allow North Korea to successfully convince China to back them as they put down the rebellious country.

And that was the last thing he needed or wanted.

These constant rivalries and tensions between countries all over the world were becoming more worrisome the longer this war lasted. It was only a matter of time before some idiot country got their hands on alien tech and used it to attack whoever they considered their enemy. No matter how hard he tried, it would happen one day.

Now, he _did_ have some ideas on hand, but none of them particularly… _legal_. But if the stability of the world was began to collapse, he would have no choice but to at least try to direct it.

But that was a topic for later. Right now he had issues closer to home to deal with.

Ground rules for the representative had been established. He was to learn no more than was necessary and any additional inquiries he made were to either be directed towards the Commander, or explained in a way that would confuse him, while not technically lying. He would “officially” have unrestricted access throughout the base, meaning everywhere but the holding cells, Alien Containment and the new lab cells being built under the research area.

Zhang and XCOM Intelligence were not to be mentioned under any circumstances or insinuated in any way. In the event that the two met, Zhang was simply a soldier in the XCOM armed forces and that would hold as long as the Commander deemed it necessary. He would be notified of missions taking place, but all Internal Council meetings would be held without him. If he insisted, they would be held without his knowledge.

He had debated attempting to hide the public contingencies, but it would only look suspicious especially since the entire base had access at the moment. The only thing he was concerned about was the Thanatos Contingency, but depending on how reasonable this “Herman Diederick” was, he might be able to convince him of the necessity of it all.

Van Doorn had actually been excited when the name came to them. According to the General, Herman was a reasonable, loyal, level headed and a sound tactician to boot. All of which sounded far too good to be true, and if so, made him a _very_ odd choice for a representative of the Council.

He didn’t believe the Council wouldn’t send someone they didn’t think they could influence, so that threw something of a shadow over Van Doorn’s words. Regardless, it _might_ be useful for placating the Council, assuming everything could be controlled.

That was the best-case scenario, and those generally didn’t happen enough for him to be reliant on them.

A light on his desk blinked, indicating that someone was outside. Time to finally meet. The door slid open and Van Doorn walked in, the Representative at his side. Herman didn’t appear that old, late thirties or forties at first glance. His short black hair was ordered and his clean-shaven face was composed. The Commander didn’t fail to notice the scar that ran across his forehead.

Interesting. He also was clad in NATO issue military fatigues, though he must have removed any badges displaying his rank. The only identifying emblem was the United Nations emblem on his upper left chest. At least he could be assured he was dealing with a military personality and not a politician.

“Commander,” Van Doorn greeted as they walked in front of his desk and indicated the man beside him. “This is Herman Diederick, Major-General in NATO and Representative of the Council.”

“I know,” he answered the General. “I suppose I should welcome you to the Citadel.”

“It’s a unique base,” Herman answered, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

“I can imagine,” the Commander agreed, keeping his tone deliberately neutral. He nodded at Van Doorn. “General, I’d like to speak with him alone.”

“I’ll be in Mission Control,” Van Doorn told him as he saluted and made to exit. “Spur Team should be returning in a few minutes.”

They waited a few seconds after Van Doorn left and the door closed before either of them made a move. “I suppose I’ve arrived at a bad time,” Herman finally said. “I’d rather not interrupt an on-going operation.”

“Quite honestly, there would never be a ‘good’ time for you to arrive,” the Commander answered, walking around the table and handed him a tablet. “But in this case, it’s no disruption. Our operation was successful and the squad is heading back now. The mission details are here.”

Herman took the tablet and read for a few minutes. “Nearly ten thousand abducted. I’m not sure that could be considered a success.”

The Commander sighed. “Until we have a way to predict where the aliens are going to strike, the best we can do is eradicate any that remain. We’re not dealing with some upstart nation; we’re dealing with a technologically advanced alien race.”

“Fair enough,” Herman answered, putting the tablet down and appraising him. “But I suppose I’ll have to be brought up to speed. In the meantime, I suppose we should address this situation.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I agree. So, what has the Council told you about me? I’d also appreciate knowing their reasons for _why_ they felt it was necessary to interfere in my operation.”

“This is still technically a Council operation,” Herman stated neutrally. “Whether you like it or not, they have the right to run it as they see fit.”

The Commander’s eyes turned to ice. “That’s a debate for later. Please answer the question.”

“What did they tell me…?” Herman mused, then looked directly at him. “Your identity for one, _Commander_.”

He wasn’t overly surprised. It was expected that the Council would no doubt use their most damning information to sway the one they sent. “And I suppose you have an opinion?”

Herman seemed amused. “Do you really want my personal opinion?”

The Commander’s lips curled into a humorless grin. “Yes.”

“In my own humble opinion, you should have been executed,” Herman stated bluntly. “Or even in some cell for life. Someone like you should not have been put in charge, no matter how skilled you might be.” He held up a hand, forestalling any initial reply.

“That being said, that was made without my input and I can do little about it. You don’t have to fear me using your past as a weapon or excuse against you. We have a much greater enemy and I’m willing to…overlook…your crimes for the duration of this war.”

Hm. Well, that was interesting. Though he didn’t fail to notice that his promise only lasted for ‘The duration of this war.’ That might have to do. “At least you’re honest,” the Commander answered, inclined his head. “I can work with that.”

“How many people know?” Herman asked, lacing his fingers together.

“My identity? None,” the Commander shrugged. “The Council wisely knew that would simply cause issues and simply told everyone I was one of the soldiers under the Commander. A story I’ve stuck to since.”

“I see,” Herman said. “In that case, what I’ve heard on you varies greatly depending on which councilor I’ve spoken too. Some prefer to let you do your own thing, others are concerned you’re making power grabs and authorizing operations outside of your authority.”

Typical. At least the Council didn’t have anything he hadn’t anticipated. “I suppose by “power grab” they mean my alliances with countries outside their little Council or are simply upset I don’t share every detail with them.”

“A combination of both, I believe,” Herman nodded. “You have to be aware that Israel is not on the best of terms with-“

The Commander raised a hand, cutting him off. “Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t care if the UN doesn’t like a country. If they are willing to work with me and actually contribute to the defense of Earth I will never deny them that. Tell me, why does the UN have a problem with Israel and not Saudi Arabia or China, both of whom regularly violate multiple human rights regulations, set up by the UN itself no less?”

“Politics,” Herman admitted. “We both know that and sometimes compromises have to be made. Israel refused to budge on anything and as a result the United Nations considers them problematic. It’s not that they actively dislike Israel, more that it is that countries unwillingness to work with anyone. Except you, apparently.”

“My point is that I’m going to keep trying to make alliances with countries outside the Council,” the Commander said firmly. “So if that’s going to be a problem, the Council might as well be prepared.”

“I suppose that’s going to depend on who you have in mind,” Herman shrugged. “Listen, as suspicious as you are of me right now, I’m not going to try and cause problems. But this is a United Nations operation and if you violate the guidelines I _will_ do my job.”

The Commander sighed. “Do you really think it’s possible to run a war without collateral damage? That is what the Council is concerned about the most, right?”

“Of course collateral damage is unavoidable,” Herman insisted, sighing. “But every effort should be made to minimize it.”

The Commander shook his head. “It should be minimized, but that is not a priority, nor should it be. People die in war, it’s unavoidable. Ending it as quickly and efficiently as possible is the ultimate goal, and if innocent people die, that’s something I’m willing to live with.”   

Herman looked slightly taken aback. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” the Commander retorted bluntly. “And most of the entire world doesn’t either. I’m well aware of my reputation, believe me, and I’m content with it. But the truth is that the majority of the world doesn’t understand war or what it takes win one. You can’t fight with constraints and rules if you want to achieve victory.”

He sighed. “You are a soldier, so you might have a better idea, but even you probably view me as a monster, no? That’s not an issue with me, but I do what is necessary, regardless of whether it is right or not. Understand that about me, I’m not going to risk the survival of the human race over a few petty UN regulations.”

Herman held back a few seconds after that speech before speaking. “Your point is made, Commander.”

“I’m glad,” the Commander answered, his tone growing more neutral again. “And like it or not, you are a greater potential danger to humanity than the aliens. You have the power to bring down me, or at least inconvenience me severely. I normally deal with risks like that decisively, but let me be clear here; the only reason I’m not considering you an enemy spy is because Van Doorn trusts you and believes you are reasonable.”

“I like to consider myself as such,” Herman answered slowly. “But again, I do have a job here and I won’t ignore it. But I’d rather work with you against the aliens than have animosity between us.”

The Commander nodded. “That is ideal. But I don’t allow people into my council unless I trust them. You want a greater role here? Earn it.”

“I suppose in your position it makes sense,” Herman admitted. “But I won’t stay idle until I meet some criteria of yours.”

“No, you won’t,” the Commander tossed him a badge which he caught easily. “You should be able to get into anywhere with this. Any issues, speak to me and it’ll be fixed.”

“Appreciated,” Herman answered as he put the card in his pocket. “I suppose I might as well ask; are you currently conducting or authorizing any illegal operations or projects?”

The Commander looked him in the eye. “No.”

Herman nodded. “Then until I find evidence otherwise, that’ll work.”

“You’ll be notified when our next operation is,” the Commander told him, going over to his desk. “That should give you an idea of how we conduct our missions.”

“Please do,” Herman agreed, inclining his head. “In the meantime, I’d like to walk around and speak to your staff.”

“Go ahead,” the Commander encouraged. “You’ll find everything in order.”

“I hope so,” Herman said as he picked up on the dismissal. “Until next time, Commander.”

He left, leaving the Commander alone.

Interesting.

It appeared Van Doorn had been at least partially correct about the man, which was both good and bad. Good in that he seemed a reasonable and level-headed person, and that he didn’t seem to be a complete tool of the Council. Which was honestly surprising, he’d have thought they’d take this opportunity to send someone devoted to bringing him down and while he had no doubt that Herman would fulfill his duty if he discovered something, that wasn’t his primary goal.

He’d have to question him more about the state of the Council. They were either being _extremely_ reasonable, or there were greater disagreements than he’d believed. He knew the names of the Councilors and where they stood, but given recent events, loyalties may have shifted and they needed to be updated.

The concerning thing was that Herman _was_ going to do his job and didn’t seem prone to intimidation. Which he could respect because at least he didn’t hide his intention. At the same time, that made it that more crucial that certain things remain under wraps, because if he caught onto something, he likely wouldn’t rest until he figured it out.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Soran carefully put his laser weapon back into his locker. Satisfied everything was in order, he stepped back and shut the door until he heard a click. He liked how organized everything was here, there was hardly any clutter or overly cramped or open spaces. The other soldiers from his squad were putting away their gear as well and some of the other soldiers were watching or walking over.

“What was it this time?” A woman with chestnut hair and a British accent asked, walking over to Creed.

“Alien abduction,” Creed answered, turning to her. “Went pretty smoothly, all things considered. In South Korea as well, we actually had some help from them.”

“Interesting,” she mused, looking up. “Why there of all places?”

“Don’t know,” Creed answered as he put his rifle away. “But they got the whole town again.”

She scowled. “Damn it.”

“Has it ever been any different?” Soran asked, deciding to walk up to them. “Have you ever stopped an abduction in progress?”

She frowned at him and narrowed her striking brown eyes. “Who are-Ah, one of the new ones, yes?”

“Yes,” Soran extended a hand since that seemed to be the custom here. “Soran Kakusa.”

She took it with a firm grip. “Patricia Trask, a pleasure.”

Even without armor, she cut an imposing figure. Despite being slightly shorter than him, she was built far better and would probably outmatch him in a contest of strength. She didn’t seem that welcoming a person to being with, she appeared very… _calculating_ , at least in her eyes which were quickly appraising him as well. Still, she didn’t strike him as inherently dangerous, unlike Carmelita.

Oddly enough, she seemed unsettled by something. She kept darting her eyes at Creed when he wasn’t focused on her. Her expression looked confused, as if she couldn’t decide what emotion to display. Soran didn’t know if that was normal, but she composed herself quickly a few seconds later.

Hm.

“To answer your question, no,” Creed said, turning back to them. “Unless I’m forgetting something, Patricia.”

Patricia shook her head. “No, we’ve never stopped one. Came close a few times, but we’re always too late.”

“Why?” Soran asked, leaning against the wall. “Is it always not detected until after?”

“Essentially,” Patricia agreed grimly. “We have no way of predicting where they will strike. Thus, our response is always reactionary.”

Interesting. “Then you haven’t been able to get into how their communication network?”

“Not yet,” Creed admitted. “Though that will probably be one of the next projects the research teams tackle.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Patricia cautioned. “They apparently made some big breakthrough recently. I’d imagine they’d focus on that first.”

Creed frowned and glanced over at her. “What did they discover?”

“Don’t’ know,” she shrugged. “But I heard the word “meld” mentioned a few times. No idea what that is. I’ll ask Vahlen when I see her later.”

“When will that be?” Creed asked, an amused look on his face.

“Later today,” she answered with a wave of her hand. Creed looked surprised.

“You were serious,” he stated, surprised. “Why are you going to her?”

Patricia grimaced and looked away. “Personal matter.”

“With _Vahlen_?” Creed asked skeptically.

“Like I said, a personal matter,” Patricia repeated and shook her head. “Anyway, you missed an interesting arrival.”

“Who?”

“The Council decided to send a representative,” Patricia answered. “Herman Diederick if that means anything.”

Soran frowned as did Creed. “Why?” Creed finally asked.

“I guess the Council wants a bigger voice in XCOM,” Patricia guessed. “Or just want a better idea of what’s going on.”

“No, why _now_?” Creed repeated, legitimate confusion on his face. “If they wanted that they would have had someone from the beginning. This _had_ to have been prompted by something.”

“The dreadnaught?” Soran suggested. “Perhaps the Council was unhappy with the collateral damage?”

“They better have a reason beyond that,” Creed stated, his tone turning dark. “I’m tired of hearing that being turned into something _negative_.”

“Politicians don’t understand war,” Patricia agreed, pursing her lips. “They care more about public opinion than the fact we _brought down an alien dreadnaught_.”

Soran waited a few seconds, looking between them. “I suppose you aren’t fans of the UN?”

“I’m not a fan of politicians,” Creed answered bluntly.

“I’m not a fan of idiocy,” Patricia added with a nod. “And I find both of those tend to fit the UN quite regularly.”

Soran struggled to keep his face blank. Such blatant disrespect for the organization they ultimately answered too was…well, extraordinary. Sure, the UN might not be _perfect_ but it was better than anarchy, which is what would probably happen if it didn’t exist. Even if it served as a deterrent and nothing else, an ineffective organization was better than warring countries.

Aside from that, if his superiors ever heard talk like this about them, there was no question they’d be punished severely. The fact that the Commander hadn’t cracked down on this kind of talk either meant he didn’t care, didn’t know, or _agreed_. In _that_ case, it wasn’t hard to imagine the UN sending someone to oversee things.

“Then I suppose you’re not happy with the representative as well?” He guessed.

Patricia glanced at the door. “That depends if he begins interfering in the war.”

Creed shrugged. “I’m sure the Commander will handle it. We don’t know what goes on between him and the Council. This could all be planned.”

Patricia snorted. “I’d love to see his face when he reads the contingencies.” Creed chuckled at that.

Ah right. He needed to do that as well. He often found technical documents boring, but that comment had piqued his curiosity, especially if it seemed to indicate some of the content wasn’t exactly something that the UN would condone.

“Do you know what they do with the people they capture?” He asked, moving his hand in a circle. “From the abductions, I mean.”

Patricia and Creed exchanged a look. “Nothing good,” Creed said grimly. “But no one knows for sure.”

“Probably being experimented on,” Patricia guessed. “Though I don’t know what they could really gain beyond basic anatomy knowledge. They already know what will kill us.”

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” Creed stated.

“Yeah,” Patricia agreed. “Well, I’ll leave now. I have an appointment with Vahlen.”

“Good luck with that,” Creed told her solemnly. “Sparring at the usual time?”

“Go with yes,” Patricia nodded. “I’ll let you know if it changes,” she looked at Soran. “Nice to meet you, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“You as well, Patricia.” He nodded and she left. Creed walked away to finish putting his stuff in his locker. Well, it seemed he had some reading to do. These contingencies would probably be a good place to start.

***

_Scotland, Wilderness_

Cerian appraised the five individuals before him. Three men and two women. Three field agents, one technical specialist and one medical specialist. A much larger crew than he’d ever used before. But from their dossiers, they were all accomplished in their fields and most importantly, seemed reliable and discrete.

He’d decided to make his home something of a base until they needed to move or enough people complained. It was isolated, connected and defendable. He’d managed to make enough room for everyone, though that would probably be unnecessary since they would be spending the majority of time away from here.

Sadly, he’d had to move his projects into a different location and cease working on them entirely. He couldn’t do two things like this at once and his job took priority. Maybe he’d let Mary, the tech specialist take a look at it. The African-American woman had noticed it earlier and seemed interested to begin with. Something to remember.

Patrick was also here, and probably would be until things got underway. Everyone was here now, so no point delaying. He cleared his throat. “Welcome, all of you,” He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m Cerian and I’ll be overseeing this operation.” He tapped the file in his hand. “All of you seem competent, so I’ll just get right into it.”

He clasped his hands together. “I assume each of you have heard of XCOM?” Everyone nodded in affirmation.

“The people who downed the dreadnaught, right?” Baston, one of the field operatives asked.

“Correct,” Cerian nodded. “And if you hadn’t figured it out by now, XCOM is a United Nations organization.”

None of them looked surprised. Excellent, he wasn’t dealing with a bunch of idiots. Patrick coughed. “Technically, it’s a _Council_ organization. As far as the official United Nations is concerned, XCOM is an independent organization.”

Cerian waved a hand. “Interesting, but unimportant for our purposes. The point is that XCOM is under UN regulations and as such, must abide within their sphere of influence.”

He pointed at one who had his hand raised. Darril, their medical specialist. “Yes, Darril?”

“Just a clarification,” he answered. “This Council _is_ part of the UN and if so, why haven’t we heard of it?”

“Because it’s very secret and composed of all the countries who want their own private UN,” Cerian answered wryly and got a chuckle out of some of them. “It’s a club.” He saw Patrick frown and smiled. “Ask Patrick afterwards if you want more details, but the Council is not of interest to us.”

“So what do we have to work with?” Olivia, another field agent asked.

“Very little,” Cerian admitted cheerfully. “A challenge for sure, but I’m sure all of you are up to it. Frankly, this wouldn’t be an issue if anyone else was in charge of XCOM.” He looked at Patrick who nodded, growing grimmer. Patrick had wanted to keep the Commander’s identity a secret, but had been flatly overruled by him. This case already lacked evidence and he didn’t want to give his agents any cause to think this was anything other than an official mission.

Furthermore, he found everyone tended to work much better when information was shared. “Now I’m assuming all of you know everything is classified, but it bears repeating here,” He paused. “The Commander is alive and is in charge of XCOM.”

They all looked confused for a moment until Mary sucked in her breath. “Oh,” she breathed. “You mean _the_ Commander?”

“War on Terror? Crucifixes and the Caliphate? Yes, the very same?” Cerian confirmed.

The five began muttering to each other in disbelief. “How the hell…” Darril began, then stopped and shook his head.

Cerian held up a hand and they stopped talking. “Yes, and it was made by the geniuses in the Council. But what’s done is done and now to the surprise of absolutely no one, they think he’d doing things he shouldn’t. Please direct all your complaints to Patrick here.” Patrick shot him a glare and he suppressed another smile.

“The Commander has been making several alliances with countries outside the Council,” Cerian continued, putting up a map of Europe on the whiteboard behind him. “As far as we know, the Commander has only made official alliances with Israel and Germany,” He pointed at the countries as he spoke. “Naturally, this is making the Council nervous. Israel for obvious reasons and Germany given what happened.”

Baston frowned. “Is that an issue?”

“Aside from making the Council angry, no,” Cerian admitted. “But it’s important later,” He motioned at Patrick. “Go ahead.”

Patrick took the center. “I assume each of you knows the circumstances of the fall of the German government and the rise of the military state now. There is some reason to believe that each of the events that led to this weren’t entirely the fault of the aliens.”

They waited for him to continue. “In nearly all the attacks, evidence was erased one way or another and we don’t entirely have a good idea of what happened before. The most obvious answer is alien intervention, but the interesting thing is that we don’t have evidence for that in every single instance. However, in Cologne we might have found something.”

“That was where the acid attacks were.” Ren, the last field operative recalled.

“Correct,” Patrick affirmed. “Two people were identified as thin men by the crowd. How they were discovered, we don’t know. But they were beaten to death soon after.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean anything?”

“The bodies of the aliens weren’t able to be recovered,” Patrick revealed. “However, we did manage to get an image of the male victim.” He put up a picture of a young bearded man, who didn’t look that out of the ordinary. The picture was taken at night and by his side was a woman. “Norman Adalard,” Patrick continued. “A young activist with no prior criminal activity or anything of note, really.”

“Who’s the woman?” Mary asked, eyeing the picture curiously.

“Our first target,” Cerian answered and put up another picture. It was low quality and only got part of her face, but enough to make out some features. Black hair just below shoulder length and clearly middle-eastern features. Sadly, the details of the face itself were blurred and grainy.

“Our mystery woman met with Norman at a bar and after talking for a bit, they left and presumably went to his place.” Cerian put up several more pictures. “These were taken the day after. Notice anything?”

“He seems unsteady and uncomfortable,” Darril noted. “A bit different than the one from that bar where he seemed rather happy.”

“The shades too,” Baston realized. “Sort of the signature thin man identifier.”

“Combined with his odd behavior, that is essentially screaming _alien_.” Mary finished, tapping a finger on her mouth. “Curious.”

“And shortly after, our mystery woman vanished and hasn’t been seen since,” Cerian finished. “I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume she was involved with this.”

“Not necessarily,” Ren pointed out. “She might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time and bailed when the attack started.”

“Do you have suspects?” Mary asked, pulling out her tablet.

“We ran her face through our database,” Patrick answered, picking up a file. “We have four possible suspects.” He put up four pictures of various women.

“Alberta Rolan,” he began. “A Canadian immigrant from the Middle East during the War on Terror. Turned to crime once she arrived and has performed several heists. Highly skilled at seduction and manipulation, she’s been a wanted criminal for five years and hasn’t been caught yet.”

“Namr Ida,” Patrick continued, pointing to the second picture. “Iranian special operative who participated in over a dozen operations in the War on Terror. She went off the grid a few years ago and has been presumed dead. Or perhaps not, as the case may be.”

He motioned to the third picture. “Yawe Ham, part of the inner circle of the only major criminal organization in Israel. From what we gather, she’s the only one keeping the Mossad from eradicating the organization which makes me suspect she is either former Israeli Mossad or Kidon. Speaking of which…”

He indicated the last picture. “Ruth Shira, one of the only identified Kidon agents in the world. Unfortunately, we don’t know much about her except that she’s an expert manipulator and assassin. Unconfirmed reports either have her coming from a poor family who helped the Israeli military take down a criminal child prostitution ring, a teacher who worked in Iran for a time and reported several terrorists to the Mossad or simply a former criminal who hunted down terrorists instead of officers. No story is confirmed.”

“Any you’re leaning towards?” Darril asked, looking at the pictures and tapping his chin.

“At the moment….” Cerian paused. “Ruth and Namr. Both are intelligence types and would be the kind of women the Commander would want. I highly doubt Alberta would become involved in an affair this big and I don’t see how Yawe could participate in this and continue assisting the criminal organization.”

“I remember Namr,” Olivia recalled suddenly. “She was something of an icon. Proof that not every Muslim was a xenophobic terrorist.”

“I know,” Cerian nodded. “But I didn’t know her enough to know if this was something she’d do or not. But I’m leaning more towards Ruth in this case.”

“XCOM has an alliance with Israel,” Ren remembered. “Perhaps they sent her over to work with them.”

“Exactly,” Cerian nodded, pleased he’d picked it up so quickly. “And Kidon agents are ruthless, emotionless and dangerous. Exactly the kind of person who the Commander would prefer to use.”

“So we watch for her?” Mary asked.

Cerian nodded. “And until we get a hit, we search for more clues.”

“Were these the only hits,” Mary asked Patrick, looking thoughtful. “Or are there more?”

Patrick looked at his own tablet and took a minute scrolling through it. “There were sixty-three hits,” he finally said. “I eliminated all the civilian hits and military ones we had files on.”

“I’d like to look,” Mary requested. “You might have missed something.”

“Will do,” Patrick nodded. “Sending the list now.”

“Alright,” Cerian clasped his hands together. “Let’s get to work.”

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

Abby was torn between anticipation and nervousness. After a week of anticipation she was finally getting called in to actually join XCOM Intelligence. She’d not been idle the whole time, oh no. She’d spent every moment either training, reading up on the general field of intelligence work or performing her medical duties.

She looked down to make sure she was still presentable. Abby nodded, the official XCOM dress uniform was oddly unceremonial; gray pants and a slightly more heavy and ornate gray long sleeve shirt with her combat boots. She’d pinned the medal she’d received from the Dreadnaught operation on the left side of her shirt, though she wondered if that was considered showing off.

Well, her uniform would look bare without it. She had indulged herself a bit and not pulled her hair back, instead letting it hang but tucking it behind her ears. Hopefully Zhang wouldn’t care _too_ much. She patted her waist to ensure her laser pistol was there and satisfied, took a deep breath and thumbed the door open.

It slid open noiselessly and she walked inside. It was fairly small, about the side of the Commander’s office. A table to the side held stacks of files all in neatly organized boxes. To the other side was a massive computer resting on the bottom with several desktops on table above it. In the center of the room was some sort of…holotable she guessed, showing the continent of Europe in a blue light.

A massive screen hung on the back of the wall and below it was a table, computer, desktop and chair where she assumed Zhang sat. Speaking of which, Zhang was standing by the holotable in conversation with a woman beside him.

She was smaller than Abby, though that wasn’t saying much since Abby was much taller than most women, in fact, she was able to look Zhang in the eye. Smooth black hair fell to her shoulders, loose like hers that framed her almost motherly face. Even from observing, there was something warm and friendly about her and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

There weren’t any scars or distinguishing marks on her brown skin she could see, and the brown camo fatigues she was wearing covered up the rest of her body. A laser rifle was slung over her back and two pistols were strapped to her waist with a couple knives strapped to her chest like Carmelita had.

Zhang noticed her and waved her over. “Agent Gertrude, welcome.”

Agent Gertrude. Yep, officially part of XCOM Intelligence now. It was sort of exciting. She walked over until she was opposite Zhang by the holotable. “Thank you, Director. I hope I didn’t miss anything important.”

Zhang shook his head, his scar flashing in the light. “No, I was just discussing some unrelated topics,” He gestured to the women. “Abigail, this is Ruth Shira, your mentor.”

Ruth gave a wide smile and extended her hand which Abby took. “Glad to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to this.”

Abby had to return the smile. “The feeling is mutual.”

Ruth chuckled. “I’ll ask you that in a few hours, but I like your enthusiasm. Such a rare trait in agents.”

If half the stories she’d read about intelligence work were true, that was something she could believe easily.

Zhang cleared his throat. “Before you take Abigail away, both of you need to be brought up to speed on recent events **.** ” He looked at Abby a deadly intensity in his eyes. “As an agent now, Abigail, you will have access and knowledge of sensitive information and you are not to share that with anyone outside the Commander, me, or the agents assigned to the same operation as you. Understand?”

She nodded once. “Yes, Director.”

Apparently satisfied, Zhang turned his attention back to the holotable. “Excellent. Abigail, since you are not aware, XCOM has fallen to a cyber-attack recently causing the loss of some valuable data. Before that, we discovered evidence that the situation in Germany was being manipulated by several parties interested in the fall of the country.”

Abby blinked. How had they not heard of this? The Germany situation she could understand, but the cyber-attack? That meant that Zhang was disturbingly good at suppressing information and she wondered what other stuff the soldiers weren’t aware of. Zhang continued.

“One party that we believe participated in both events was an organization called EXALT. Heard of it?”

Abby shook her head while Ruth frowned. “That myth has been around longer than I’ve been alive,” she answered skeptically. “It’s been disproven and exposed a long time ago.”

“It was,” Zhang agreed. “But regardless, that’s the name connected to both events.”

“What is EXALT?” Abby asked, before things went too much farther.

Zhang looked at Ruth. “Want to answer?”

Ruth shrugged. “Sure, but I only know the basics,” She turned to Abby. “EXALT became very prominent during the mid-fifties. The prevailing theory was a global conspiracy consisting of a few individuals who manipulated world events.”

Abby frowned. “You mean the Illuminati?”

“Modern day Illuminati, I’d say,” Ruth amended. “But essentially the same thing. No one knew how they operated or were controlled. It scared enough countries into devoting enormous amounts of resources into finding this group and removing it.”

She paused. “Honestly, some of the evidence was very convincing, looking back. The only issue was that its leading proponent was exposed as a fraud a few years later. Israeli, Chinese and American agents found caches of evidence throughout the world which exposed the whole thing as a hoax. It was verified by essentially every intelligence community in the world, one of the few times everyone agreed on something.”

She snorted. “And despite all that, the legend of EXALT is one that refuses to die,” she looked at Zhang. “I forget anything?”

“That about sums it up,” Zhang agreed. “Though I’ve looked quite a bit into the original documents and did find some information about the supposed structure of EXALT.” He tapped the holotable and it flashed to a flat view of the world. “It appears that EXALT had one major hub per continent, sometimes public, sometimes not. They had one director, who was chosen is some sort of ritual contest where the contestants had to kill each other. I’m highly skeptical of that, but they did appear to have a leader.”

He tapped the table rhythmically. “The only other thing I found interesting was that it was something of a collection of dynasties. EXALT was supposedly only controlled by a few select families and no one else. I also find that somewhat hard to believe, since they wouldn’t be able to replace their number easily unless the families intermarried, which would become problematic in a few generations.”

“Are you saying you believe this?” Ruth asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I’m saying that we’re dealing with an organization called EXALT,” Zhang stated firmly. “And thus there are only two possibilities. One: This isn’t the EXALT of legend and they are only assuming the name, which I honestly find more likely. Or two: EXALT did exist and managed to fool the entire world and have existed in secret until now.”

“Either way, they have to be stopped.” Abby said firmly.

Zhang nodded in approval. “Personally, I don’t care who they are. They are posing a threat to our operation and must be eliminated. And until we do, I’m assigning the majority of agents to disrupting EXALT and putting this to rest once and for all.”

“I for one, would be happy to end this myth once and for all,” Ruth stated enthusiastically. “You have an assignment?”

“I need a confirmation first,” Zhang answered, looking down at his tablet. “But I will. It’s one I think Abby would be useful on as well. Expect to be called in by tomorrow at the latest. That should give the two of you some quality time.”

“It will,” Ruth confirmed, nodding.

“Then dismissed,” Zhang returned to looking at the holotable. “I’ll speak to you shortly.”

Ruth grabbed Abby by the arm and escorted her out of the room. “Come on, agent. Let’s see what you can do.”

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

Five hours later, Abby would have probably punched the woman, Kidon agent or no, if she’d had the strength to do so. But after being put through continuous exercises testing her strength, speed and agility, she simply didn’t have the strength and collapsed to the ground.

Ruth stood over her, a wry grin on her face. “You getting up?”

“I literally cannot move,” Abby gasped. “How much more could you possibly have for me?”

“Oh, you finished everything essential a few hours ago,” Ruth answered nonchalantly. “But you were doing so well it felt wrong to stop. Besides, I was curious how far you would go.”

Abby pushed herself up a little. “I sincerely hope you’re kidding.”

“I’m not, actually,” Ruth reached down and grasped her forearm and hauled her to her feet. “The actual Kidon physical testing takes a couple of hours but no one really follows it. Most people give out around hour three. You made it just past the fifth hour. Congratulations, you are only one of twenty to actually do that, myself excluded.”

“I would punch you if I had the strength,” Abby warned, too tired to really care about what she was saying. “I still might.”

Ruth laughed, a sound just a warm as the rest of her. “Based on that display, I think I’d let you.” She let go of Abby and both of them walked to an empty table, both drenched in sweat.

“So did I pass?” Abby asked wearily as she took a long drink of water

“With flying colors,” Ruth assured her, wiping her mouth after she took a drink. “You need training on some more refined close-quarter combat and resistance to interrogation of course, but you’re more than capable of achieving these.”

“That it?” Abby asked warily.

“For the basics,” Ruth clarified, motioning with her hand. “There are some techniques you need to know about killing people, but those aren’t difficult to learn.”

She said it so casually it took her a minute to understand what she’d said. “Techniques for killing people?” She repeated cautiously.

“Well yeah,” Ruth said. “We’re not assassins for nothing. True, we do more than that in XCOM, but there are some things every agent should know. How to snap a neck, where the arteries are and the most efficient way to strangle a man twice as large as you.”

Abby blinked. “You’re serious **,** ” she stated as she put her water down.

Ruth eyed her with amusement. “Surprised?”

“Well,” Abby shrugged. “It’s just you say it so _casually_.”

Ruth shrugged. “It’s my job. Killing people happens quite often so I’ve gotten used to it. You’re a surgeon, right? How many times have you performed life-saving surgeries on people? Did you ever consider it any big deal?”

She had a point. But still, saving lives was _much_ different than taking them on a regular basis. “But still,” she shook her head. “You’re talking about _people_.”

“Hmm,” Ruth mused, looking away. “Depends on your point of view, I suppose. I’ve killed quite a few humans in my life, and I’d only consider a few of them worth calling _people_.” She looked back at Abby. “Though I can see your viewpoint, since most agents start out like you. It’s normal. Still, I am curious; have you killed someone before?”

Abby paused for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Only aliens.”

“Alright,” Ruth nodded earnestly. “Well, I suppose the next question should be _could_ you kill someone?”

“If I needed to **,** ” Abby answered slowly.

“As I thought,” Ruth said, shifting in her seat. “What about someone innocent?”

Abby thought very carefully for a few minutes before replying. Her initial reaction was an emphatic _no_ , regardless of what Ruth thought. This was a clearly important question to her and Abby wasn’t sure how she’d react either way. Furthermore, the longer she thought about it, the less sure she became. _Could_ she just kill someone in cold blood, an innocent no less? She finally just decided to be honest.

“I don’t know.”

Luckily, Ruth didn’t seem that displeased by her answer. “You probably won’t until faced with that choice yourself.”

“Do you think that’s going to happen?” Abby asked nervously.

Ruth pursed her lips, growing more serious. “It’s a distinct possibility, and one you should prepare yourself for, because it _will_ happen sooner or later. And no, it’s not as clear cut as you’re probably thinking. It’s probably going to be an accident or bad luck.”

She turned to face her a bit better. “The first time it happened to me, I was on a scouting op in the Middle East. A rather notorious criminal had made his unofficial home there and I was to make sure he didn’t move without my knowledge. Everything was going smoothly until a small group of shepherds accidentally stumbled on my position.”

Ruth did look somewhat remorseful as she continued. “They had no clue who I was, but they were clearly terrified of me. I had a choice; let them go or kill them. There was a good chance that if I let them go, they’d go tell this criminal where I was or even just say I was in the area. This criminal had a sizable group of armed men following him and if he learned where I was, they would kill me and move on. Best case would be I survived, but lost the trail. ”

“Couldn’t you have just tied them up?” Abby asked, lacing her fingers together.

Ruth shook her head. “And do what? I had no clue how long I was going to be there and I had no food or water to give them. I was already in a difficult position because I knew people were going to come looking for them whatever I chose. I had at most a few days before the criminal was spooked and at least then I could track him.”

She shook her head again. “No. I couldn’t jeopardize the mission just to save a few innocent people. So I killed them and disposed to the bodies. Painlessly, of course.” Ruth waved her hand absentmindedly. “And I did the right thing. Several more of the Kidon arrived at my position and we eradicated the criminal and his soldiers and left with no one the wiser. Four people were sacrificed to save hundreds more. That’s something I can live with.”

Abby didn’t know if something was wrong with her because she _did_ understand Ruth’s point. Was she a bad person for understanding why and _not_ feeling outraged? Or was it alright since she still didn’t agree with it? To her credit, Ruth seemed to understand her internal dilemma and didn’t press her to speak.

“Do you regret it?” She asked finally. “Or wish you’d done it differently?”

Ruth frowned. “Killing them? No, I still believe that was the right decision. But the circumstances then were beyond my control. If I had brought that choice on myself, then yes I would.”

Abby supposed that was a decent enough answer. At least it didn’t seem that Ruth wasn’t _completely_ heartless. Actually, she seemed a rather animated and cheerful woman. Prior to this conversation, she never would have guessed she was a professional assassin.

That was what probably made her a good agent.

“If it’s any comfort, the majority of people killed in this business deserve it,” Ruth finally said. “But you should be ready, just in case.”

Abby nodded. “I will, though I hope it never happens.”

“As do we all,” Ruth agreed. “Though I don’t want to worry you too much. XCOM Intelligence is a bit different from the Kidon. Not quite as much killing. Manipulation, sabotage and surveillance are a bit more prevalent.”

Abby frowned and sighed. “I think I’m in way over my head.”

Ruth snorted. “Nonsense, you’re young, bright and good with people. Training is only one part, the application is just as important. As long as you can apply what I teach you, you’ll do fine.”

“Can you get me ready for whatever operation is tomorrow?” Abby asked ruefully.

“As a matter of fact, I think I can,” Ruth answered with a slight smile. “I’m pretty sure I know what op Zhang is referring to and I think it’ll be a good exercise for you.” She stood. “Come one, let’s walk. We’ve done enough physical training for today.”

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

Patricia sighed in relief as she neared the doors. The buzzing that had plagued her had receded enough that she could ignore it without finding a distraction. It was extremely odd, the buzzing tended to fade the fewer people who were nearby. She didn’t know whether that was a coincidence or meant something.

Well, hopefully Vahlen would be able to help. The Commander had assured her that Vahlen would be more than happy to see what she could do. Though from what Patricia knew of the woman, it would be more to satisfy her own curiosity and less about actually helping her. Well, as long as she had an explanation, she didn’t really care about her motives.

The doors slid open and a rush of sterile and cold air rushed out, blowing her hair back a little. The scientists were busy looking through microscopes and at data from computer screens. Alien bodies and tech were resting on tables throughout the labs and Vahlen herself was standing by a container filled with some strange yellow substance.

Patricia frowned. At first glance it looked like that alien blood and she wondered what possible use Vahlen could have for it. Upon taking a closer look, she realized it _wasn’t_ blood, but some sort of…liquid? Gel? It shimmered slightly when the light hit the right places and she thought she saw glowing…hexagons? What was this stuff?

Well, maybe she could casually ask during whatever Vahlen had planned. Speaking of which, the woman had seen her and waved her over. Patricia took a breath and walked over to the table.

“Operative Trask, good to see you on time.” Vahlen greeted with a curt nod.

“Thank you for agreeing to take a look.” Patricia answered, leaning on the table.

“No problem,” Vahlen dismissed while she made some notes on her tablet. “I must admit, I am somewhat curious as to what’s afflicting you.”

Patricia smirked and resisted the chance to roll her eyes. _Of course you are_. Well, at least she was honest, despite her questionable words of…was that supposed to be reassurance? Well, it didn’t matter.

“So what seems to be the issue?” Vahlen began, appraising her, tablet at the ready. “The Commander gave me some basic details, but not much else.”

Patricia pulled out a piece of paper she’d spent hours on recreating the symbols from memory. “ _This_ is the problem.”

Vahlen took the piece of paper and took a few minutes looking at it, pure curiosity in her brown eyes as she scanned the page. Patricia could almost see her mind trying to come up with explanations for them. “How did you get this?” She finally asked. “I’ve seen these on some of the tech we’ve recovered, we believe this is what constitutes the alien language, though I’m certain any preliminary results haven’t been shared with the armed forces.”

“ _Surprise, interest, disappointment, potential.”_ She listed off in a row. Vahlen frowned in confusion.

Patricia tapped the piece of paper. “That’s what they mean. One word per line.”

Vahlen’s eyebrows rose, though her voice was more curious than disbelieving. “How could you possibly know that?”

Patricia scowled. “I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past few days. I shouldn’t even know what these are, yet I do. I shouldn’t have any clue what they _mean_ but I do. I can’t explain why, but I’m certain that’s what they mean.”

“Interesting,” Vahlen mused, making more notes on her tablet. “Tell me the exact circumstances of when you first saw these…words, I suppose.”

“On the dreadnaught,” Patricia began. “The first one appeared in my head when I shut off the power conduit. Once I did, it appeared in my head and I _knew_ what it meant. More than that, I could _feel_ what it meant.”

“What do you mean _feel_?” Vahlen asked, appraising her curiously.

“Those words I listed off,” Patricia motioned at the piece of paper. “I felt each emotion associated with the word. But it wasn’t _my_ emotions, it was something, or some _one_ else’s.”

Vahlen paused for a minute, clearly thinking. “I’ve seen the footage from the armor cams. You made reference to the interface of the power conduit ‘shimmering.’ Something I didn’t see on review of the footage.”

Patricia shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why, it just…was. I knew what I had to do to shut it down.”

Vahlen pursed her lips. “Are you experiencing anything else?”

“There’s a constant…buzzing, ever since that mission **,** ” Patricia admitted. “It fades when I’m intently focused on something or when there are less people around. I’ve taken every medication possible but nothing helps. The odd thing is, it isn’t painful, not yet at least.”

“Anything else?” Vahlen pressed.

Patricia hesitated. There was one thing, but it was so outlandish she didn’t know if it should be considered. Vahlen saw her hesitation. “There is,” Vahlen stated, eyes lighting up. “Tell me.”

“Feel free to dismiss it,” Patricia warned. “It’s probably just a massive coincidence. But a few days ago I was training, I think. But the buzzing stopped and…I don’t know what happened, but I knew someone was coming to see me. More than that, I knew _who_ it was.”

Vahlen almost visibly brightened. “Go on.”

Patricia narrowed her eyes at her enthusiasm, but continued. “I pushed it from my mind, but a few minutes later, Anius Creed showed up and asked to have our sparring session. I don’t know how, but I somehow knew that was going to happen. I was so distracted I probably lost the match.”

“Were you expecting him?” Vahlen asked, looking thoughtful.

“Yeah, we do that every other day,” Patricia answered. “That’s why I eventually dismissed it. I figured my mind was just playing more tricks. But the thing is, it happened again but more intensely. It was today, actually. It was like I could feel his emotions and intention as well.”

“Fascinating,” Vahlen muttered. “Follow me.” Without waiting, she immediately made for the exit and Patricia hastily followed. Vahlen was a fast walker and Patricia had to adjust to keep up.

“You have an idea, don’t you?” She half stated, half asked.

“A theory,” Vahlen mused as she walked. “You were clearly affected by alien technology, it seems to be the conduit. However, what I find interesting is that if you were affected by something, everyone else who came into contact should have been as well.”

“Care to share this theory?” Patricia demanded, trying to keep her focused.

“Perhaps,” Vahlen answered distractedly, looking at her tablet. “Correct me if I’m wrong; you’re saying that the symbols you saw correspond to emotions?”

“I think so, yes.” Patricia answered.

“So that might mean their language is based on emotional cues and not literal meaning,” Vahlen muttered, more to herself than Patricia. “And the best way such a language could be communicated is direct mental communication.”

Patricia sucked in her breath, hoping that didn’t mean what she thought it did. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Vahlen answered, sounding excited. “You might have made telepathic contact with an alien.”

Damn it. It actually made some sense, and if she _had_ been contacted by an alien… “It’s not still _inside_ me is it?” She asked, trying not to sound overly concerned.

“I don’t know for sure,” Vahlen shook her head. “But I doubt it. Unless you’ve been seeing more symbols you haven’t told be about.”

“So how did it contact me?” Patricia demanded as they turned a corner. “The only contact with alien tech I made was the conduits-“

“Which only you seemed to be able to access,” Vahlen pointed out. “And with each instance you received a new message, correct?”

“Yes,” Patricia nodded, growing more disconcerted. “I did.”

“The conduits we recovered were disabled,” Vahlen muttered to herself. “We need to get one running.” She stopped in front of a door. “Here we are.” Patricia looked up and realized they were at the Medical Ward.

Ok. A few possibilities ran through her mind, the most likely of which was that Vahlen wanted to take scans of her. Reasonable, especially if they helped figure out what the issue was. So even if that _was_ the explanation for the symbols, it still didn’t explain the buzzing or instances with Creed.

Vahlen opened the door and they walked into the empty waiting room. Without bothering to ask permission, Vahlen immediately made for the back room and Patricia reluctantly followed. She had the vague impression that they should at least be telling someone what they were doing.

“Here.” Vahlen turned into one of the rooms which contained some kind of bizarre scanning equipment. Well, not _bizarre_ , but she was pretty sure she’d never seen it before.

“Sit here,” Vahlen ordered, pointing at the little cot that slid into the machine. While Patricia went over, Vahlen went and gathered some cords which she recognized doctors stuck on you when they took brain scans and the like. So her assumption had been correct, it seems.

“Hey? What are you doing?” Patricia looked over to see a man in a XCOM issue surgeon uniform. His large arms were crossed and was glaring at Vahlen, green eyes boring into her.

“Taking brain scans,” Vahlen answered absentmindedly as she began working the machine. The man’s eyes widened.

“Careful!” He warned as he rushed over. “You even know how to operate that?”

Vahlen stepped back and let him take over. “Of course, but have it your way.” Despite her calmness, it was clear she wasn’t happy at being interrupted.

Once the machine had settled at a nice hum, he turned to Vahlen. He sighed as he appeared to recognize her. “Doctor Vahlen. As much as I appreciate your work, I would ask that you please _ask_ before using this equipment.”

“Apologies,” Vahlen didn’t really sound overly apologetic. “But the circumstances warranted it. I saw no reason to take up your time.”

He ran his hand over her blonde hair. “Well, you’re here now. I might as well help you finish.”

Patricia looked at him. “Who are you?”

“Combat Medic and Chief Surgeon Blake Harkin,” he answered as he began putting some of the sensors on her. “I’m taking over for Abigail Gertrude pending her transfer.”

Ah right. Patricia had honestly been surprised when Abby had moved to XCOM Intelligence of all places. A spy was the last thing she envisioned the young medic. A shame, she’d been a decent person and good at her job. Hopefully Zhang would make sure she was safe. She supposed that she’d be working with Blake now since he was the new combat medic.

One all the wires and sensors had been attached Blake nodded at her. “Alright, lie back. This should only take about five minutes. Keep calm.”

She hated when people said that. It _always_ backfired since it implied that yes, it was possible something could go wrong. So instead of actually being calm, she would always have that doubt in the back of her mind.

Maybe bad bedside manner was a requirement to join XCOM or something. Whatever, she lay down and the tray slid into the circular machine. The low hum was rather pleasant and Patricia resisted the urge to fall asleep. Before she knew it, the tray was sliding back out and she sat up.

“You got it?” She asked Vahlen who was staring at the screen.

“Yes,” Vahlen answered as she tapped on the screen, then glanced down at her tablet. With a nod, she spun on her heel and headed for the door. “Thank you operative Trask. This will be essential into determining your condition, I will contact you if I learn anything.” Without so much as a goodbye, she left both of them alone.

Patricia stared at the door in disbelief.

Ok then. She supposed the visit was over.

“She always do that?” Blake asked, sounding amazed.

“She’s a very smart woman,” Patricia answered slowly. “But…she’s not exactly good with people. Very focused on results and theories.”

“Scientists,” Blake shook his head in resignation.

“Scientists,” Patricia nodded in agreement. Well, as enlightening as this had been, she was no closer to knowing what was wrong with her. And she hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Vahlen what the “meld” was. Damn, she’d have to ask later. In the meantime, she supposed it was going to be another long day training.

She supposed there were worse ways to spend it.

***

Supplementary Material

XCOM Operative Alien Handbook: _Sectoid_

OVERVIEW: The alien named the “Sectoid” by Dr. Moira Vahlen was the first alien encountered in the initial invasion. Appearing to serve as support to the larger and more powerful aliens, these creatures can still pose a threat of left unattended to. Despite their vulnerabilities, they make up for it by utilizing the enigmatic forces known as psionics. They are the only recorded alien species being capable of wielding this power.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION AND CAPABILITIES: Standing at exactly 1.2 meters, every single sectoid encountered is a perfect genetic copy. It is unknown it this is a result of cloning or growing, or simply a trait of the species. The skin is an ash gray and the creatures move around unarmored and completely exposed.

Their spindly arms end in three-fingered hands that are capable of grasping most objects and instead of moving on two legs, they instead scramble around on all fours when moving. On their wrists are small plasma weapons that appear to be attached to the creature itself. Attempts to remove them have resulted in the weapon’s destruction.

Their bulbous heads are enlarged beyond what is typically normal for a creature it’s size. It lacks a mouth yet possesses vocal cords since soldiers have witnessed the sectoids making chittering sounds. It is unknown if these are their primary method of communication. 

The sectoid appears to retain the strength of a teenage human child. Despite their malnourished appearance, they are stronger than they appear. However, they can easily be physically overpowered and subdued with either a knock to a head or ARC Thrower blast.

 _Note 1:_ A variation of the typical sectoid has been spotted on several occasions. This “Sectoid Leader” retains the same characteristics as the regular sectoid with the exception of the arm containing the plasma weapons. The arm containing the weapon is augmented with a sleeve of black metal to house a much larger plasma weapon. It is unknown if these Sectoid Leaders possess advanced psionic capabilities

STRENGTHS:

  1. Plasma Weaponry: Despite advances in XCOM technology, plasma weapons are still more dangerous than any firearm developed on Earth. The damages this weapon can cause are extensive and often fatal.



_Counter:_ The plasma weapons the sectoids wield are weaker than those employed by the rest of the alien forces (With the exception of the Sectoid Leader – See Note 1). As a result, XCOM has made enough strides in armor that a hit from a sectoid plasma weapon is now not immediately fatal (Except if struck in the head). Please note that repeated hits will still result in serious injury or death.

  1. Psionics: Sectoids are capable of wielding the phenomenon known as psionics. They are currently the only known alien species to do so and the effects are highly dangerous and unpredictable. Usage of psionics has resulted in mental breakdowns, hallucinations, mental instability and suspected mind control.



_Counter_ : There is currently no proven or foolproof way to resist psionic attacks. While several soldiers have proven resistant, there is not any shown correlation between them. The most effective deterrent is disrupting psionics in the first place by keeping pressure of the sectoids and killing them as soon as possible (See TACTICS)

            WEAKNESSES:

  1. Physically Weak: Due to their small size and strength, sectoids are able to be easily overpowered by a normal human adult. Their large craniums make them more vulnerable to weapon fire and head injuries caused by blunt trauma.
  2. Unarmored: The sectoid is vulnerable every place on it’s body. Laser weaponry is particularly effective as it will cleanly cut the sectoid into pieces with virtually no resistance. They are also more vulnerable to environmental hazards such as fire and electricity (See TACTICS for further elaboration).
  3. Support Grenades: Sectoids are vulnerable to the flash-bang, more so than other aliens encountered. It is theorized that their large eyes are the source of this increased vulnerability. Offensively used smoke grenades are also effective for disrupting a sectoid group (See TACTICS for further elaboration).



TACTICS:

  1. Laser Trap: Due to the sectoids lacking armor or protection, a laser traps is particularly effective. Simply sustain lasers for no more than five seconds and aim as directed by the Squad Overseer. Use in open or uncovered spaces for maximum effectiveness.
  2. Flank: Have two to three soldiers suppress a group of sectoids in cover. As they do this, a second team will move around the side (Determined by the Squad Overseer), and open fire on the exposed aliens. Use on contained or clustered groups for maximum effectiveness.
  3. Offensive Smoke Grenade: Throw a smoke grenade into the midst of a group of sectoids. Ensure that the HUD is set to filter out smoke, allowing a clear view of the exposed sectoids. If they are exposed, fire. If not, use this opportunity to advance into a better position. Use on contained or clustered groups for maximum effectiveness.
  4. Flash-Bang: Throw a flash-bang to disrupt psionic activity and cause disorientation. Additionally, this opportunity may be used to advance to a better position. Use on sectoids in superior cover, who are contained or clustered, or Sectoid Leaders for maximum effectiveness.
  5. Psionic Disruption: Sectoids require an unknown period of time to ready their psionic abilities, which can be disrupted by suppression of the target. A sectoid under suppression has yet to use psionic abilities offensively. This tactic should be used at the discretion of the soldiers, without requiring instructions form the Squad Overseer. Use on sectoids using, or preparing to use psionic powers for maximum effectiveness.



PSIONICS: The following are psionic powers recorded and utilized against XCOM and other beings.

  1. Psionic Panic: The Sectoid forces the victim into a state of uncontrolled panic rendering their behavior unpredictable. This has resulted in soldiers opening fire on friendly forces, dashing from cover into enemy fire and complete mental shutdown.
  2. Psionic Disorientation (Mindfray): The Sectoid causes the victim's mind to become unstable, leading several soldiers to refer to this ability as a “Mindfray.” Victims have reported headaches, disorientation, blurriness, hallucinations, and are often displaying a lack of lucidity.
  3. Psionic Merge: The Sectoid has been shown to be able to psionically merge with others of its kind. It is unknown whether this is simply a more effective method of communication, provides physical or mental advantages or is a form of mind control.
  4. Psionic Mind Control (Theorized): The sectoid has demonstrated an ability to control, or at least influence the minds of primitive creatures and animals. It is possible that the Psionic Merge is a form of mind control (See – Psionic Merge). The extent and specifics of this ability are currently unknown. To date this had not been performed on humans, but it is unknown whether the sectoid is incapable of this, or XCOM simply hasn’t encountered one strong enough yet.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           


	6. Family Meeting

 

_The Bastion, Antarctica_

“The first plane has arrived,” Ethan informed her while she watched a screen displaying several news stations from various countries. It was a hobby of hers, seeing the effect of EXALT influence at work. Suppressing news was far less complicated than people realized; it was less about directly suppressing news as much as _promoting_ unrelated or unimportant content. Get enough people talking about something trivial, and they would forget anything else important.

True, sometimes direct intervention _was_ necessary, and much larger news required it. But Saudia has always considered it something of a…personal failing if that happened when it could have been avoided. Often times, it meant that someone had to die and that was a shame. It wasn’t the journalist’s fault that they’d stumbled on a covert EXALT op or were intelligent enough to make draw some conclusions. But unfortunately, they had no choice if secrecy was to be maintained.

She shook her head and shut off the screen and turned to face Ethan, who was in his dress uniform as well, minus the bandana which hung around his neck. “You know who it is?” She asked, tugging on the collar of her own uniform.

Ethan gave a grim smile. “Hasina.”

“Ah.” She had an…amicable relationship with her sister and now head of the Vyandar family. Even when growing up, they’d had quite a few fundamental disagreements. Disagreements that hadn’t dissipated with time.

Still, she was family and that would never change. But Saudia saw no reason to change her opinions simply because her sister was now the head of her family. Well, by now she knew which topics to avoid with her, though there was no guarantee Hasina would be so willing to keep it strictly business. Hasina took her responsibilities to her family seriously.

Too seriously, if she was being honest. Hasina had a tendency to put the good of the Vyandar family ahead of EXALT and while she completely understood the motivation, it simply wasn’t acceptable.

Her interventions over the years hadn’t really improved relations.

“Should I hide?” Ethan asked, his lips twitching as he suppressed a grin. For some reason, he found the whole situation he was in rather amusing. Something she was extremely grateful for. Much as he was justified, going off on Hasina wouldn’t exactly help things.

“Absolutely not,” she told him. “If she had a problem, she’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I’ll let you do the talking” he promised with a deferential nod.

She smiled and brushed her hair back with a gloved hand. “Excellent,” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s get to the hangar.”

Ethan grinned and pulled the bandanna over his mouth and motioned to the door with his hand. “After you, Director.” She obliged and both of them walked out the door into the ornate hallway.

A lush red carpet lined the tiled hallway and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling in a row. The tables held expensive vases and other elaborate conversation pieces. The whole of the Bastion was a demonstration of wealth and power, much of which she found to be going a little overboard. As far as she knew, it had always been like this, updated through the times of course, and upon initially taking the role of Director, she’d considered removing most of the excess furnishings in favor of more practical arrangements.

But in the end, she’d left it as it was. She wondered how many before her had come to the same conclusion, it wasn’t the furnishing themselves that were important. Rather, it was the implication and demonstration of wealth and power that were most important. It reinforced the image of EXALT being superior and unstoppable to the personnel and soldiers employed and conveyed the same to their allies and enemies, as well as fear or wariness.

  Even the alien had been impressed. At least from what she could tell from his expressions, assuming that that creature even knew what human emotions he was imitating. “Do you have times when each of them is to arrive?” Saudia asked Ethan as they walked, preparing for a mentally exhausting day. If it was possible, she wanted to speak to the Heads of the Families before the meeting, which might or might not be possible depending on how soon they showed up.

“Matthew and Zara are about a half-hour out, at least according to their departure times,” Ethan answered, slowly as to emphasize that it wasn’t final. No need, really. She knew that EXALT personnel planes were notoriously difficult to detect with EXALT scanners, and impossible with normal equipment. Not to mention the Antarctic weather was never ideal. Still, she’d take that over the risk of some country detecting suspicious aircraft heading towards the Bastion.

As such, the most accurate way to determine when one of the planes was to arrive was based on the departure time. They’d established a baseline long ago and had since been using it for purposes of scheduling, though Saudia always allowed at least an extra fifteen minutes to account for bad weather.

“And the rest?” She asked while she opened one of the carved wooden doors.

“Diguon and Elizabeth are about forty minutes out,” Ethan recalled. “Darian is closer to an hour.”

She sighed. “I hope he has a good reason for the delay.”

“He didn’t provide one,” Ethan shrugged. “But something probably came up. He’s not overseeing the most stable of continents.”

She nodded. That was most certainly true. Not to mention the Eridan family was the second smallest after the Venator family. They did excellent work, as expected, but the lower number of personnel did mean that intervention took longer than usual. The realities of overseeing one of the more troublesome continents. After overseeing Africa for a few years, she could sympathize.

“My uniform alright?” She asked Ethan as they approached the hangar door. She paused and Ethan reached over and adjusted her ceremonial cape.

“There, perfect,” he complimented, stepping back. “All ready.”

She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m wearing this thing again.”

“Hey,” Ethan chided humorously. “I’m not complaining.”

“Shut up.” Saudia responded as she opened the hangar door and walked inside.

EXALT had no air force, and thus didn’t have a large hangar. There was one of the transport planes, her personal one, but literally nothing else. The only regular usage came from the weekly supply transport carrying fuel, supplies and food. Visitors were rare; rare enough not to warrant an expansion of the hangar.

It would be more crowded than usual, but each family plane should be able to dock without problems. Her arrival was good timing on her part; Hasina was just disembarking the plane now, flanked by three Vyandar EXALT soldiers.

Hasina herself wore the traditional uniform of the Head of the Vyandar family which was by far the least ceremonial of all the uniforms within EXALT. Leather boots, sand-blasted pants, gloves and long sleeve shirt covered by a forest green shawl. Both the EXALT and Vyandar emblems were embroidered on opposite sleeves and she wore the tribal necklace that had been passed down to each head of the Vyandar family.

It was quite easy to tell they were related. Hasina’s face was a bit rounder and her black skin a touch lighter than her own, but they were nearly identical in every way else. Unlike her, Hasina kept her hair moderately short; the raven locks barely falling past her ears. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she didn’t look entirely pleased.

Then again, she’d always been a serious woman. Much like Saudia.

The soldiers with her, one man and two women, were clearly native to Africa as well. Even if Saudia hadn’t noticed their forest green bandannas, she could tell simply from their skin, features and demeanor. They held automatic weapons at the ready with a pistol strapped to each of their legs. Their attire was similar to Hasina’s, though far bulkier, likely due to the body armor underneath.

Hasina said something to the male soldier, and seeing how he took the two women and walked away, she assumed he’d been told to leave. She’d probably done that in the hopes that she’d order Ethan to leave as well. How unfortunate for her.

“[Saudia,]” she greeted neutrally in Swahili, with an incline of her head. “[Glad to see you.]”

Saudia smiled, stepped forward and embraced her. Hasina seemed surprised at first, but then returned the embrace. Despite their differences, they were sisters and she’d never forget that. “[Sister,]” she murmured. “[It’s been too long.]”

They stepped back and Hasina gave a small smile. “[That it has,]” she responded wryly. “[Though we’ve both been…busy.]”

Saudia gave a grin. “[That we have.]”

Hasina glanced over at Ethan and barely inclined her head in his direction. “Ethan,” she acknowledged, now in English. “Doing everything to keep her alive, I assume?”

He nodded stoically. “Of course, Lady Vyandar.”

“Good.” Returning her attention to Saudia, she also reverted back to Swahili. “[There are some things we need to discuss before the meeting.]”

“[Business or family?]” Saudia asked.

She twitched her lips. “[Family.]”

Saudia nodded and motioned that they should walk. Hasina fell into step beside her and Ethan trailed behind. “[What news do you have?]” Saudia asked curiously. Despite being the Director, she didn’t feel the need to interfere or pry in the internal affairs of the families, including her own. She would only intervene if their disputes or issues began having an adverse effect on EXALT as a whole. Still, she disliked being out of the loop, even if it was self-imposed.

Hasina indicated Ethan behind her. “[I’d rather he not be here. This should only be discussed with members of the family.]”

And just like that Hasina couldn’t resist making comments like that. Saudia pursed her lips. “[He’s my husband.]”

Hasina’s face hardened. “[As your sister, I ask you to do this.]”

Fine. She didn’t want to argue to Hasina now, not before the meeting. But she’d have to have a discussion about her blatant disrespect soon. After years of putting up with it, it was getting old. Still, she turned toward Ethan. “Could you assemble the soldiers? I want them ready when the rest get here.”

Luckily Ethan knew exactly what was up and didn’t dispute her at all, for which she was grateful. “Of course, Director. They’ll be ready within ten minutes.” With that he saluted her and began walking off until she grabbed his arm.

“Thank you,” she told him, conveying her gratitude through her eyes. He appeared to understand and gently removed her hand and walked off to fulfill his orders. She turned back to Hasina who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“[You do know I’ll be telling him everything later,]” she warned Hasina as they resumed walking. “[We don’t keep secrets.]”

“Hmm,” Hasina muttered. “[That is your decision, sister. But I will not be responsible for an outsider learning of it.]”

Even normally she wasn’t this callous. Something must have happened. Something that was upsetting her. “[How is everyone?]” Saudia asked.

Hasina shrugged. “[Mother is fine, the grandparents are as well. Everyone else is managing perfectly fine. Operation outputs have increased by five percent. Mostly thanks to Father’s advice.]”

Saudia nodded. Father was a genius at managing the multiple refining, drilling and extracting operations they managed. EXALT owed much of their current wealth to him and she was certain Hasina would continue his work, especially if he was advising her.

“[That’s excellent,]” she complemented. “[You should be proud.]”

Hasina twitched her lips. “[Perhaps. I suppose I’ll feel more confident when I’m not relying on him for advice.]”

Saudia snorted. “[It took him decades to learn what he did. You’ve only been doing this four years. Don’t feel guilty relying on him.]”

Hasina took a deep breath. “[Father is sick.]”

Saudia blinked and stopped walking, a wave of sadness washing over her. “[Ah,]” she managed. “[It happened.]”

“[Yes,]” Hasina confirmed sadly. “[I suppose the warnings were accurate.]”

“[When did you know?]” Saudia demanded.

“[A few days ago,]” Hasina answered with a wave of her hand. “[I would have told you…but you were dealing with the aliens and when you called for a meeting I figured I might as well wait to tell you in person.]”

“[Thank you,]” Saudia told her sincerely. “[You did the right thing.]” They were both silent for a few minutes. “[How long?]”

“[At least six months,]” Hasina answered wearily, her eyes unfocused towards the wall. “[At most a year, though treatment might help extend it. I’ll be talking with Darian to see if he can take a look.]”

Saudia nodded. That was a sound plan. The Eridan Family provided nearly all of EXALT’s chemical, medical and pharmaceutical needs and development. If anyone was able to help, Darian certainly would. Still, it would only delay the inevitable.

“[He’ll be more than willing to help,]” Saudia reassured her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “[Darian knows what he’s done for EXALT.]”

“[I know,]” Hasina sighed. “[But…I still have so much more to learn from him…I’m worried. And I know things are only going to get harder in the next few months.]”

“[Hey,]” Saudia told her firmly, looking her in the eye. “[You’ve done well so far, and no, it wasn’t just because of Father. Do you really think he’d have approved you taking over if he wasn’t sure you could do it?]”

“[No,]” Hasina admitted, a touch of bitterness in her voice. “[But then again, I wasn’t his first choice, was I?]”

“[The order doesn’t matter,]” Saudia insisted. “[Both of us know it’s because I was the eldest. Had it been reversed it would have been you instead.]”

Hasina pursed her lips. “[I suppose we’ll never know.]”

There was another long silence between them. “[I’ll make arrangements to visit,]” Saudia promised. “[After the meeting, I’m sure I’ll have to visit you officially anyway.]”

Hasina’s face softened. “[Good.]”

They were interrupted by the sound of the hangar opening and another plane rolling inside. All EXALT planes were exact copies and bore no distinguishing emblems or marks so Saudia didn’t know who had actually arrived. A few seconds after the first plane rolled inside another one followed

“[Here they come,]” Hasina commented. “[Guesses on who?]”

“[Probably Matthew and Zara,]” Saudia assumed, eyeing the planes as they moved to park. “[Unless the others made up serious time.]”

“[Zara,]” Hasina grimaced. “[Wonderful.]”

Saudia suppressed a sigh and began walking towards the first plane that had arrived, Hasina close behind her. She smiled when she saw who it was. Matthew, Head of the Solaris family and Overseer of North America, walked down the steps with two Solaris EXALT soldiers behind him. Dressed in an unremarkable American black business suit, the only indications of his loyalty and rank was the EXALT emblem embroidered in silver thread on the pocket. The Solaris emblem was a golden pin attached to the suit. She supposed he had no reason to hide it since it was displayed around America anyways.

His soldiers were dressed almost identically with the only major difference besides their navy blue bandannas were the black leather gloves they wore in comparison to Matthew who didn’t wear any. He smiled as he noticed them approaching and motioned his soldiers to stay put.

“Saudia!” He greeted while he strode up to them. She probably should have reminded him of her position, but seeing as no one else was around, she didn’t see the need too.

“Matthew,” she returned, giving him a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

He chuckled. “Probably. But not much we can do about that. The world isn’t going to change itself!”

“True,” Saudia agreed with a nod. Matthew turned his attention to Hasina.

“Greetings to you as well, Lady Vyandar,” he said, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Hasina nodded in return, but little else. “The feeling is mutual, Mr. Solaris.”

He smirked. “Formal as ever. I can respect that.”

“I presume things are proceeding as planned?” Saudia asked. She knew most details of what operations he was conducting in North America. But her other responsibilities left little time to directly oversee them.

He grew quite serious, surprising her. He scratched his golden beard. “Yes…” he began hesitantly. “Canada and Mexico operations are proceeding extremely well. The United States…there are some things we need to discuss.”

She frowned. “Nothing bad,” he quickly amended, raising a palm. “But…well, things are a lot more volatile than I anticipated. We have a major opportunity here and I won’t move forward without your approval.”

Really? Well _that_ was intriguing. Matthew had her trust and he knew it. For him to still want her permission meant it was big. “When you say major opportunity, you mean…?”

He gave a small grin. “I mean that if we play our cards right, we have a chance to control the United States.”

Even Hasina raised her eyebrow at that. “Well,” Saudia finally said. “We’ll have to speak after the meeting.”

“Without a doubt,” He agreed with a nod. “Though this should be discussed at Solaris Industries proper.” Looking past her he arched his eyebrow. “It seems Lady Venator has arrived.”

Saudia turned to see Zara with half a dozen Venator EXALT soldiers behind her. “I’ll greet her,” she said, looking back at them. “Both of you are free to head to the meeting room. I presume you know the one?”

Both of them nodded and began heading further inside the Bastion. Saudia turned and began approaching the entourage. The amount of soldiers Zara had brought with her seemed like overkill, but it was too expected with the family responsible for the vast majority of their military power.

Zara Venator, Overseer of Australia, was not who was normally envisioned to be a soldier, let alone the head of a family of soldiers. Just taller than five and a half feet, it was almost comical how much Saudia towered over her. But looking beyond her height, Zara was likely the most dangerous soldier in EXALT. If one thing could be said about the Venator family, it was that they never picked anyone unqualified. Zara had trained for this position since birth and had earned her position, despite the disadvantages she likely faced.

Her face was a mess of scars, like essentially every Venator family head. They had a tendency to be reckless and get involved far more than anyone else. Not to mention at least half the scars were probably from training. Her brown hair was also cut short, like most of the women in the Venator family. Despite that, she had an oddly childish face offset by the most striking blue eyes she’d ever seen. Zara was a woman who left no ambiguity. You knew _exactly_ where you stood with her just by looking at her.

The Venator family had no dress uniforms. No matter the situation, they always wore full combat attire and no less than two weapons. Their dull silver body armor covered the padding underneath and their arms and legs were similarly covered; with silver plates covering everything but the joints, which were reinforced by additional Kevlar padding. Venator soldiers were also afforded more levity when customizing their armor; Saudia saw symbols, names and other likely personal things painted, spray-painted or attached to the armor on the soldiers.

Another major difference with Venator soldiers that each of them wore a ceremonial cape similar to her own on their left shoulder in addition to their orange bandannas. A dark orange cape with the Venator emblem embroidered in silver. It was a symbol of their status as the elite soldiers within EXALT and no other family saw cause of dispute it.

Zara hadn’t added anything to her own armor aside for the EXALT emblem emblazoned on her upper right chest in black. She extended her hand as Saudia approached which Saudia took. The grip was firm but not overly hard, indicating Zara retained at least some finesse. “Director,” she greeted firmly, with a deferential nod. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“You too, Zara,” she responded. The Venator family was notorious with who they wholeheartedly supported. Paradoxically, Saudia considered them the most loyal of all the families, despite their issues. They supported the ideals and goals of EXALT without question and each of them was willing to die for the cause. That same loyalty didn’t extend to people and if the Venator family had issues with anyone, they were made known and they would flatly refuse to work, intervene or take orders from them unless pressured by the rest of the families or some agreement was arranged.

It even extended to the position of Director. If they disapproved of the direction of EXALT, they would make their opinion known, albeit more subtly and were more susceptible to pressure from the families. Despite that, it was _very_ rare for things to get that bad and Saudia had nothing to worry about in any case. The Venator family was one of her strongest allies, most likely due to her completing the Gauntlet, a grueling multi-staged trial only the most elite of EXALT even finished completely. She knew that feat alone had gained the respect of Zara.

“I see you didn’t skimp on a detail,” Saudia noted wryly glancing at the six men and woman behind Zara. “Expecting trouble?”

“Always,” Zara agreed, albeit somewhat in self-deprecation. “You’ll thank me if something happens.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “At the _Bastion_? You do know I already have soldiers here. Some of yours too, I might add.”

“Maybe I just want to feel protected,” she joked sarcastically. “Not all of us have Ethan looking out for them.”

Saudia chuckled and Zara joined in. It was something of an inside joke between them now. Zara had been rather interested in him when he’d first arrived to EXALT and had attempted to choose him as her husband. Ethan had been flattered and somewhat confused, but had ultimately turned her down. Saudia had asked why once and he’d said she was too “hotheaded and impulsive.”

Fortunately Zara hadn’t been offended and had even congratulated him when he and Saudia had married. Though she hadn’t exactly let him off the hook; in her own form of revenge, she usually flirted with him several times, making him very uncomfortable.

Saudia shook her head and grew more serious. “Really, I think you’re just hoping something will happen.”

“Boom,” Zara agreed dramatically. “You _are_ a smart woman. Seriously though, what’s the point of an army if you never use them? My soldiers are bored of training exercises and frankly, so am I.”

“You know my stance,” Saudia reminded her. “Military intervention as a last resort.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zara waved a hand dismissively. “You and your pacifistic nature. Just saying we could get a lot more done if we became more involved. Beyond all the talking, bribing, persuading and _politics_.” The last word she almost spat out.

“Well, I think you’ll be happy with my plans,” Saudia promised. “Like it or not, we’re going to begin the final phase. And your soldiers will be essential in its execution.”

Zara clasped her hands behind her back and gave a wide smile. “Now _that_ I’m looking forward too.”

Saudia nodded. “The ones who’ve arrived are heading in. You may join them when ready.”

“Excellent,” Zara turned on her heel and her soldiers fell into step behind her. Before she began walking, she looked back at Saudia. “Solaris is here, correct?”

Saudia nodded. “Yes.”

“Ah, excellent. I want to know if that new rifle prototype is ready for manufacturing.”

“He’s speaking with Hasina now,” Saudia added. “But you should have enough time before the others show up.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Director.” With that Zara marched off, entourage behind her.

Privately, Saudia wondered how long she’d last when the fighting actually started. The Head of the Venator family was a little different than the rest of the families. They were considered the “tip of the spear,” so to speak. Meaning that they often were involved in combat missions and operations. This tended to result in rather abrupt deaths when the Head was killed in combat. They still oversaw the major operations within Australia, but since it was a small continent and the family primarily focused on training soldiers, there was quite a bit of freedom in the role.

To date, the longest any Head of the Venator family had survived was twelve years. Not a single one had ever survived to pass on the mantle to his or her children. Luckily, there was never a shortage of willing soldiers to take the position. The Venator family was also quite aware of the high death rate and whenever a new head was chosen, a successor was also chosen as quickly as possible for the smoothest transition possible.

Zara had been serving nearly five years. Saudia estimated she’d probably last another five but not much more than that. Well, what would happen would happen, little she could do to change that. She checked her watched and waited for the rest of the planes to arrive.

***

_The Bastion, Overlook of the Wasteland_

The meeting room was a plain and bare room lit by soft white lights. But what it did offer was a beautiful view of the Antarctic wasteland. Saudia found it soothing, especially during the frequent snowstorms and it was one of the only places in the Bastion that didn’t include extravagant furnishing.

There was one small wooden round table with seven seats, one for each family head and one for the Director. No one else was allowed, though none were specifically forbidden from sharing what transpired. They were all professionals who knew who to share with and how much. There had never been any information leaks from the Bastion, proof enough for her to permit the heads to share with specific people.

The table could also be used as a holotable if needed, and she fully intended to utilize that feature during the meeting. Everyone had arrived and were now seated before here waiting for her to begin. Beside here were Hasina and Matthew; beside them were Elizabeth, Head of the Falka family and Overseer of Europe and Diguon, Head of the Mercado family and Overseer of Asia respectively. And opposite her were Zara and Darian, Head of the Eridan family and Overseer of South America.

Time to begin. Saudia rested her fingertips on the table. “Thank you all for responding so quickly. I understand recent events have increased our workload, but I’m grateful regardless.”

“No need, Director,” Matthew dismissed with an easy wave of his hand. “Each of us know this isn’t an ordinary meeting.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Saudia nodded. “Each of you know why we’re here so I’ll not waste more time. My meeting with the alien representative proceeded without incident and we have established an alliance. We will officially work with them to destroy XCOM and subvert the countries into accepting alien rule.”

From the knowing and smug smiles around the room, they clearly hadn’t missed her usage of the word _officially_. “In return they will provide us with their technology, weaponry and knowledge to use as we will.”

“Oddly trusting of them,” Matthew commented, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I can understand establishing an alliance, but to provide us with all that immediately? They have no guarantee we won’t just take the tech and abandon them.”

“Fear,” Zara stated with a grim smile. “They believe they can intimidate us into submission simply because they are more advanced. _That_ is their guarantee. They are arrogant enough to believe their very presence is a deterrent.”

“Relying on fear works to a point,” Elizabeth commented, tapping on the clipboard she always carried with her. “But the aliens have to know we will reach a point that equals their own eventually. I’ve studied their tactics as much as possible. They are not without subtlety or guile. Their own operations in Germany proved they can also run an intelligence operation.”

Matthews’s lips twitched. “A very _poorly_ _run_ intelligence operation, but sure.”

Elizabeth wasn’t dissuaded. “That was their first attempt at something like this. The point is that they’ll learn from this. Just look at the progression of the thin men. The first ones deployed were crude and experimental. Their latest ones would fit into a population seamlessly.”

Diguon pursed his lips. “I have noticed the same thing,” he said, his heavily accented voice a sharp contrast to the rest of the room. “That particular issue needs to be addressed.”

“It will,” Saudia promised. “But returning to the original point; I agree with Matthew in that they likely assume the threat of our destruction will subdue us. But I also think that they would be perfectly fine if we stayed loyal to them. Furthermore, we have something they want that they’ve apparently been unable to reproduce.”

“Which is?” Zara prodded.

“Human psionics,” Saudia answered. “They have an interest in them, for what reasons, I’m not sure.”

“I can think of a few,” Darian commented thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “They have the technology for cloning. It might be beneficial for them to clone an army of human psionics.”

“I don’t think we know enough about psionics to make that kind of prediction,” Matthew cautioned. “We don’t even know if it’s genetic or not.”

“I think it’s a much simpler motive,” Diguon interjected, adjusting his glasses. “XCOM will eventually develop a human psionic themselves. The longer the aliens drag out this war, the more inevitable it becomes. If they were to discover a way to mitigate or prevent humans from becoming psionic, then they would have removed what is arguably humanity’s strongest weapons against them.”

“I get the feeling there is a suggestion there,” Saudia commented, a little sarcastically. “Go ahead.”

“Very well,” Diguon leaned forward intently. “Are the aliens requesting our psionic subjects _now_?”

Saudia shook her head. “Not yet. But I’ve told them we will turn some over once they’ve been studied more.”

“We should not,” Diguon stated bluntly. “The aliens are simply a means to an end. When Earth burns, we must have a fighting chance to reclaim it. I fear providing the aliens with our psionic subjects will only hinder that goal.”

“I don’t think any of us are in disagreement on that,” Hasina pointed out ruefully. “But you would have to admit it would look suspicious if we refused to hand over _any_ psionic subjects.”

“Hasina is right,” Matthew nodded. “I don’t like it either, but for now we must maintain the illusion of cooperation. But play our cards right and we can make it difficult for them.”

“While we’re on this subject,” Darian interrupted, curiosity tinging his voice. “How goes our own studies on the subjects?”

“We’re trying to pinpoint similarities between the patients in the hopes that will allow us to determine why they survived the Catalyst drug,” Saudia explained. “The Bastion scientists are having trouble finding the exact genetic markers, but I suspect they will within a few weeks. In terms of abilities displayed…” Saudia paused. “Subjects One through Three are demonstrating minor psionic abilities. Flashes of purple smokes, minor telekinetic abilities and complaints of ‘voices.’”

“And subject Four?” Darian asked.

“Subject Four is…volatile,” Saudia admitted. “She reacted violently to the initial awakening and she doesn’t appear to have any control of her abilities. We are unsure if this means she is more powerful, or is simply having a different reaction.”

“Interesting,” Darian mused. “If possible, I’d like to have some of my people join this project. I would particularly appreciate it if several subjects were sent to me. This is an ample opportunity to create defenses against psionic abilities.”

“Not possible at this time,” Saudia shook her head. “Your people are certainly welcome, but we simply have too few subjects to move around. Once we refine the process, you will receive your subjects. Until then, we must first understand psionics.”

“Perhaps the aliens could help?” Hasina suggested, looking at Saudia.

“Considering they want our psionic subjects, I somehow doubt they’ll be able to provide any help.” Elizabeth reminded her. “At least with humans.”

“I agree,” Saudia nodded. “Besides, I’d prefer to keep our internal operations secret from the aliens.” Saudia turned her attention back to the table. “Now, they’ve followed through on their promise and send a substantial amount of their technology to the Bastion. I’ve split the contents into three sections; Weapons, biological and chemical substances, and equipment.”

“Is it legitimate?” Matthew questioned. “You sure we aren’t receiving doctored supplies?”

“I can guarantee the weapons are authentic,” Saudia confirmed. “The equipment appears to be functioning as well. As for the substances…we can’t say for certain until closer inspections. But we don’t have a reason to believe differently since the rest of the tech appears genuine.”

“Very well,” Diguon conceded, steepling his fingers. “If the aliens have deceived us in any way, my people will discover it.”

“I expect nothing less.” Saudia reached down and tapped on of the buttons on the tables. Blue lights around the edge flared and the holographic image of several plasma weapons and components appeared. “The aliens have provided us with five “unbound” plasma rifles and two rifles that have been dismantled for us to research on a more intimate scale.”

“Unbound?” Matthew asked.

“Each weapon is bound to the alien wielding it,” Saudia explained. “From preliminary examination, it appears to be DNA based. After bonding, the weapon will self-destruct if someone other than the owner wields it.”

“Smart,” Matthew nodded approvingly. “Keeps the tech out of enemy hands well.”

“Yes,” Saudia agreed. “Matthew, you’ll be in charge of the weapons research. I’ll also expect you to coordinate with Diguon’s people since these operate on more complex technology.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Matthew looked over at Diguon. “I’ll send you everything once we gain some more concrete data.”

“Diguon, you’ll oversee the equipment we’ve received,” Saudia informed, directing her attention towards him. “It appears to consist of computers and scanning devices. Your specialty, correct?”

Diguon smiled. “Yes. We’ll begin work as soon as we receive them.”

“Excellent.” Saudia looked at Darian. “And what is probably no surprise, you’ll be overseeing the alien substances. From what the Bastion researchers have told me, this will allow us to finally begin implementing true genetic modification.”

“Truly?” his eyebrows shot up. “If that’s the case, I suppose I should begin acquiring more test subjects.”

“That might take time,” Diguon warned, eyebrows furrowing. “It took us a significant amount of time to acquire the subjects for the psionic experiment.”

Saudia held up a hand. “Not an issue. The aliens are willing to provide us subjects from their own stores of subjects.”

“Excellent,” Darian nodded, sounding more excited for the first time in months. “It’ll be nice to not have constraints.”

“The Bastion will retain at least a portion of the alien technology,” Saudia informed them. “However our primary focus will be on psionic testing. I expect frequent updates documenting your progress and it goes without saying that each family will receive the same updates I do. Understood?”

“Understood, Director.” Matthew answered, speaking for the rest of them.

“Excellent.” Saudia shut off the holodisplay. “Now onto the state of the world. We can all assume it’s changed significantly since our last meeting. Darian, you first.”

Darian nodded. “It’s really changed surprisingly little. The majority of the populace is more concerned about their next meal instead of being abducted. We still retain a limited amount of influence over the major countries, especially Brazil, Argentina and Colombia but I’m holding off advancing my agents.”

Hasina frowned. “Why?”

“Because while the populace is unaware, or unable to act upon the almost blatant corruption in the governments, others aren’t so fooled,” Darian answered, sounding almost amused. “There are several high-profile foreign journalists beginning to uncover the extent of the corruption. I’ve helped them in various ways and I expect when all’s said and done, nearly all of the major governments will be implicated in the highest profile scandal in years. Allowing the opportunity for some _new_ people to assume leadership.”

“People I’m assuming you’ve chosen,” Saudia supposed, resting her arms on the table.

Darian inclined his head humbly. “With the help of dear Lady Falka, our people will have influence over every facet of the major South American countries.”

Zara snorted. “You have two major problems with this: One, while the South American populace might not care about the aliens, everyone else does. Who’s really going to care? Two: You really think they’re just going to step down once implicated when they have control of the military?”

“Don’t worry Zara,” Darian promised soothingly, causing her to flush. “I’ve taken care of it. Quite honestly, you’re right. But the point of the entire expose, beyond us taking control, is to turn the military against the governments. A feat that should be quite easy when the ordinary soldier sees how the ones they serve carelessly waste military lives and spend their days in mansions without a care in the world.”

He leaned forward, a wry grin on his face. “Soldiers are predictable. Present company excluded of course. I’m a psychologist, and furthermore, I’ve been to Brazil, Venezuela and Colombia. I’ve spoken to the common soldier and trust me, I _know_ what it will take to persuade them. Combined with the riots that will follow, the soldiers will feel obligated to take their country back not out of greed, bribery or corruption, but because they _believe_ they are doing the _right thing_.”

He leaned back again, in clear self-satisfaction. “And no amount of pleas, warnings or money will deter someone with that mindset. You have little to worry about, Zara.”

Saudia was personally impressed things were proceeding so smoothly. Darian had approached her about this months ago and she’d agreed on the assumption that he would do his best to ensure it was a mostly bloodless coup. And so far, it seemed a distinct possibility that EXALT would soon extend their reach over South America proper. Once the major countries were under their influence, the rest would eventually fall into line.

“Excellent work,” she congratulated with a nod of respect. “You’ve done well. You next, Matthew.”

“With pleasure,” He answered with a smile. “For starters, Solaris Industries is now officially the largest weapons manufacturer in the United States. As a direct consequence, we now have a legitimate contract with the United States Military.”

“Congratulations,” Diguon said, inclining his head. “And it only took you a few decades.”

“Worth it,” Matthew answered, clearly satisfied. “As for the state of affairs, well, Canada is still inconsequential, though several of my people have increased in rank and status. But they are taking a “wait and see” approach with the aliens. Knowing the Prime Minister, he won’t make a decision until the rest of the civilized world reaches some sort of consensus.”

“No,” Zara injected scornfully. “They’ll make a statement when some countries wants to make peace with the aliens.”

While Saudia would have put that more…diplomatically, she suspected Zara was more right than she wanted to admit. Canada was a largely pacifistic country, something Zara despised. Canada had openly criticized the War on Terror and refused to take part, even after the United Nations intervened.

As one of the few countries to do so, Canada became something of a haven for refugees, Muslims and people of middle-eastern descent all of whom had faced suspicion and persecution from the rest of the world. As a result, Canada had one of the most diverse populaces, rivaling the United States after nearly all had stayed and were assimilated into the country. Along with Iran, Canada allowed the practice of Islam, although almost all of those still practicing were under increased scrutiny.

The country was also more difficult to effectively control and sow dissent. The side effect of a more pacifistic culture was that people were naturally more polite, open-minded and passionate. Though they tended to become a lot more aggressive when presented with opposing views since many were convinced that they were correct.

Fortunately, Canada wasn’t a serious contender or threat on the world stage and as a result, EXALT mostly didn’t interfere, though some people were still kept in the government to keep an eye on things.

“Perhaps,” Matthew finally answered. “But Canada’s official stance will probably not have that great an effect.” Shrugging, he picked up his tablet and began tapping on it. “Meanwhile, I’ve made great strides in Mexico. Thanks to Elizabeth’s help, we now have agents within all the major Cartels. I expect within a year we’ll retain a moderate amount of influence over at least half of them.”

“I hope you’re focusing on the right things,” Hasina questioned with a frown. “Infiltrating the Cartels might backfire, not to mention we’ll have little influence in the government itself.”

“The government isn’t a concern,” Matthew dismissed, setting the tablet down. “Half of it has ties to the Cartels already. No, I have a different plan for them.” He rapped his fingers on the table. “The drug trade relies on addiction, obviously, and the Cartels essentially control the majority of it in North and South America.”

He paused. “So the question is how to remove the Cartels for good, _without_ military intervention,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at Zara. “No offense, Overseer Venator, but a military solution is difficult to keep discrete.”

Zara shrugged. “None taken.”

“So instead of specifically infiltration the leadership of the Cartels, I’ve placed our operatives in positions where they make the products _directly_ ,” he explained. “The head chemists, scientists and engineers answer to me.”

Saudia nodded. She’d been appraised of this operation before and looked over at Darian. “I assume you completed your role as well.”

“Completely,” he smiled in self-satisfaction. “Since we now control how the products are made, we can introduce our own versions with the Cartels none the wiser.”

“Specifically,” Matthew continued. “Reducing the addictive properties. It’ll have to be done _very_ slowly if we want it to work, but once we removed the main source of income, the Cartels will be unable to sustain themselves unless they use their thugs to extort money, which is highly impractical.”

“That is going to be suspicious,” Diguon commented. “Not to mention it’ll give some of the smaller criminal organizations an opportunity to get a new client base for their own products.”

“And risk the wrath of the Cartels?” Matthew snorted. “No. That won’t happen. Not at first, at least.”

“That’s all well and good for the people,” Elizabeth pointed out, chewing her lip. “But won’t it be suspicious when their client base starts to not need their products anymore?”

“Of course,” Matthew agreed. “But that isn’t what will happen. This will be gradual; we’ll reduce the addictive properties a bit, have that circulate for a month or so, then reduce it a bit more. It might take years and is the reason I’ve waited until I had people in _all_ the Cartels. This has to be consistent across the board between them to draw less suspicion.”

Saudia looked at Darian. “Has your modified product been tested?”

“Our control group in Argentina was given our version of meth over a period of six months,” Darian confirmed. “Results are almost universally successful.”

Hasina raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Darian sighed. “Our modified product relies on the customer taking that product, and _specifically_ that product. Several of the test subjects accidentally took regular meth with ours and the ensuing shock to their bodies killed them. It’s an issue we’re trying to fix.”

“That won’t be a concern for at least half a year,” Matthew emphasized. “The chemical differences between the first phase of our products and what they’re using now are negligible.”

“I hope you’ve thought of a plan when the Cartels realize something’s wrong,” Zara said, lacing her fingers together. “Because they _are_ going to notice. And when they determine something’s wrong with the product, guess who they’ll remove first.”

“Which is why I’ll do my best to direct the uncorrupted within the Mexican government at them,” Matthew answered. “Along with planting some rather incriminating stuff to turn the Cartels against each other.” He raised a finger. “However, now with our alliance with the aliens, I would propose we use them against the Cartels. Their little armies, specifically. I know the locations of their staging and training grounds and I can’t imagine the aliens would pass up the chance to acquire some healthy human subjects.”

Saudia smiled, it seemed like a fitting ending to her. The populace would be free of the addiction and the Cartel’s hold over the drug trade would be shattered. “That is an excellent idea. I’m sure I can convince the Speaker of the wisdom of that.”

“Using the aliens to remove their soldiers and our product to remove their source of income,” Hasina mused pleasantly. “We finally dismantle the Cartels.”

“As is the plan,” Matthew agreed with a smile.

“I’ll be curious to see how it works in reality,” Diguon commented, not sounding quite as enthusiastic. “But a start nonetheless.”

“Hopefully more,” Matthew answered. “Now, for the USA. Simply put, tensions are _extremely_ high for a multitude of reasons. Lines are quickly being drawn, mostly over the typical partisan lines, and neutrality is vanishing. Now, there are several ways to take advantage of this, but an operation this large will need to gone over in greater detail, with the Director first.” He nodded at Saudia.

“Suffice to say, that we stand to control the United States if successful.”

“I assume you’re taking into account the upcoming presidential election?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, I’m going to ignore one of the biggest political events in years,” he answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “ _Of course_ I have plans to use the election. Campaigning has already begun.”

“One year early,” Saudia shook her head. American politics was both fascinating and utterly ridiculous sometimes. “You have your eye on several of the candidates?”

“Of course,” Matthew answered. “Several that I believe are viable.”

“How is the state of America?” Zara asked curiously. “I haven’t visited the country in months. Do the Republicans look to retain the White House?”

Matthew hesitated. “Before the aliens came I would have probably said _no_ , simply due to the amount of domestic issues. Hate crimes, police scandals, corruption charges, shootings and scandals…it’s hard to retain public support through that, despite it happening on both sides.”

“It probably didn’t help that the Vice President was charged with corruption,” Elizabeth commented wryly. “I assume that caused some PR issues.”

Matthew shook his head. “You have no idea the amount of damage control the good President had to do. It permanently damaged her reputation, which is why she’ll not be running for reelection. The Republicans want her out of the spotlight as quickly as possible.”

“You said that was before the aliens,” Diguon recalled. “So what now?”

“I think it’s safe to assume a Republican administration will be more willing to fight the aliens,” Matthew answered. “Something they’ve made very clear. And given what has happened, that sentiment is rising rapidly. People are scared and are willing to overlook past mistakes in favor of protection and security.”

Saudia frowned. “And the Democrats aren’t disputing that?”

“Not exactly,” Matthew answered slowly. “They acknowledge the alien threat but they haven’t exactly made it into a primary issue like the Republicans have. They believe the focus should be on domestic affairs first.”

“So it’s on their agenda, just not the highest concern?” Saudia clarified.

Matthew nodded. “Correct.”

 She nodded. “We’ll speak more on your plan later. Elizabeth?”

Everyone directed their attention towards her. “Europe doesn’t have quite as much interesting events taking place,” she began. “However, I can safely say that anti-alien sentiment is sweeping across the continent.”

“To be expected after Germany,” Darian agreed.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “And it’s putting pressure on the governments to begin military efforts against the aliens. The European Union in particular is being petitioned to endorse increased military activity.”

“And what are the chances that will happen?” Hasina asked.

“That depends on if the aliens attack again,” Elizabeth hypothesized. “Another attack like Germany will force their hand. Which is why, Saudia, I would suggest to our alien allies to hold off any attacks in Europe until things quiet down.”

Saudia nodded. “Reasonable.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Germany is still completely out of our hands. The good Chancellor had essentially turned the country into a police state and completely shut down the borders. Any dissent is quelled and people suspected of alien ties are brought in for interrogation. Simply put, it’s a mess.”

A mess that was extremely personal to her, since Elizabeth was the one who’d botched the Germany operation. Something she’d been trying to atone for ever since. Saudia leaned back. “Is Germany still part of the EU?”

“Officially yes,” Elizabeth answered, pursing her lips. “But in reality no, they just haven’t followed any of the procedures for leaving the EU. Or the UN for that matter. XCOM is the only entity they support.”

“Perhaps the aliens could be directed there,” Saudia mused. “It would have to be done carefully, but we could use them to weaken Germany and make our allies happy as well.”

“Possibly giving us an opening to the country,” Elizabeth finished. “Possible. I’d have to look into it more.” She looked around the table. “That essentially covers Europe. That being said, my operative in Israel is reporting a _lot_ of suspicious things are happening.”

“Like?” Matthew asked, shifting in his seat.

“People being reassigned, money being moved around, shipments of equipment missing,” Elizabeth frowned. “Israel is planning something, and I don’t know what. This is a warning that I may suspend some operations in order to find out what’s going on.”

“What could they possibly be planning,” Hasina wondered openly. “Are they wanting to create their own anti-alien army?”

“That wouldn’t make sense,” Matthew shook his head. “They’re perfectly capable of using the one they have now. Perhaps they’re planning an attack on Iran?”

“And risk the world uniting against them?” Elizabeth snorted. “They might be warmongers, but they aren’t stupid. A complete takeover would bring worldwide condemnation.”

“Agreed,” Saudia nodded. “Elizabeth, do what you need to. Diguon?”

The elder Mercado adjusted his glasses. “China has reacted predictably to the alien attack. As I suspected, it would take them actually being threatened before they began to make major military preparations. The Chinese military is beginning to mobilize and conduct their own operations on the aliens.”

“Will they open an alliance with XCOM?” Saudia asked, concerned. That was not a development she’d been aware of.

“Unlikely,” Diguon answered. “For what I understand, the Chinese government is not particularly happy with the Commander of XCOM and the feeling appears to be mutual. Regardless, any hope of an alliance disappeared when XCOM decided to contest the rights to the wreckage of the dreadnaught.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “I sincerely hope he wasn’t expecting to win. This is the epitome of an open and shut case.”

“Of course he wasn’t,” Matthew stated. “This was a blatant move to keep alien tech out of the hands of the Chinese. I’m not sure why he delayed the inevitable, but I can understand the reasoning.”

“A curious move,” Hasina commented, leaning on the table. “Especially since China is part of the Council.”

Saudia raised a hand to cut off that line of questioning. “That’s another topic we’ll discuss later. Suffice to say I agree. Continue, Diguon.”

“The point is that we should prepare for China to take a more active role against the aliens,” Diguon said. “Since we control most of their technology, we can utilize that when they fight the aliens. But I suspect the Chinese will figure out the tech is faulty after a few instances so we must use that sparingly.”

“How much can we influence them?” Saudia asked, thinking.

“That depends,” Diguon hesitated. “I have enough people inside to gather _very_ reliable information, but in terms of actual military direction, he is only one voice within the Republic.”

“What of the surrounding countries?” Hasina asked. “Could the Chinese decide to utilize them as staging grounds?”

Saudia waited for him to deny it but his face turned grave. “That is a distinct possibility. China has not ruled out annexing nations if the aliens threaten the homeland.”

Matthew whistled. “They would not.”

“China rivals the United States in military and political power,” Diguon reminded him. “Combined with how many countries rely on them economically, they could very well do it and not be penalized. Who would stop them? The _United Nations_?”

“Good point,” Matthew muttered.

“However, I don’t think they would do that,” Diguon amended. “Even if it _is_ very possible, they would lose a lot of support and much as they like to think so, they can’t win the war alone.”

“So we’ve got a possible Chinese expansion,” Zara commented. “Excellent. What about Russia?”

“Nearly identical,” Diguon answered grimly. “The President has wasted no time in publically declaring war on the aliens and vowing to do whatever it takes to defeat them. He’s received near universal support and a surge in volunteers for military recruitment.”

“But we expected that,” Saudia stated. “Especially since Russia is one of the larger supporters of XCOM.”

“But it _is_ more concerning,” Hasina commented worryingly. “Because unlike China, Russia _will_ annex countries if they deem it necessary. I would also not rule out their usage of nuclear weapons.”

“I have enough people to ensure that Russia will not use nuclear weapons,” Diguon promised. “But as for annexation…Ukraine, Belarus and Finland are prime targets if Russia decides to expand their borders.”

“Mongolia is off-limits then?” Darian asked. “Too close to China?”

“I assume so,” Diguon answered. “Which is why I also think China will refrain from taking it if they decide to expand. Neither country wants to antagonize the other.”

“And North Korea?” Matthew asked, scratching his beard.

“No change,” Saudia answered instead of Diguon. “South Korea strikes them, they publicly decry it and send a unit down to teach them a lesson. Our source within the country reports no change. The Supreme Leader is as secretive as ever.”

“We should remove that country or unify it,” Zara muttered. “North Korea is too dangerous to allow without at least _some_ knowledge of what they’re doing. At least with Israel we know when something is happening. North Korea could nuke South Korea and we wouldn’t know in advance. No offense to your source, Director.”

“None taken,” Saudia dismissed. “And you’re right. Getting information out is notoriously hard, but it’s better than nothing. And unfortunately, China still protects them and thus no one will touch them.”

“To his credit, The Supreme Leader has kept things quiet,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “But we’d be foolish to think North Korea doesn’t have plans.”

“Until then, we focus on China and Russia,” Saudia stated. “Hasina, anything to report?”

“Yes,” Hasina laced her fingers together. “Thanks to an increase in production, we’ve made substantial profits from the oil, gold and coal trade. Our influence over Saudia Arabia has increased our funds tremendously and continued operations will allow us to continue expansion.”

“And Egypt?” Matthew asked.

“Handled,” Hasina answered easily. “They won’t pose any trouble. We’ve finished identifying some more resource deposits deeper in the continent and I’ve begun operations to begin extracting them.”

“I assume the native populace is taken care of?” Saudia asked.

“Of course,” Hasina confirmed. “The people are almost always grateful for relocation. Especially when there are modern accommodations, housing and medical care. Eventually we _will_ modernize this continent.”

“Excellent,” Saudia nodded. “And last but not least, Zara?”

“Absolutely nothing has changed,” Zara stated with a wave of her hand. “My soldiers are ready and trained and willing to fight. Fifty more recruits passed the Gauntlet and I’m gathering fifty more recruits across the globe. Our army will only grow, even if it’s never used.”

“Nothing new with Australia?” Saudia pressed.

“Nope,” Zara shook her head. “People live their boring lives on the civilized side while we conquered the other half.”

Saudia didn’t really expect anything different, but she still wanted to confirm. “One last order of business: XCOM.”

This might be the most important issue at the moment. “Within the coming weeks I’m going to being authorizing combat operations in conjunction with the aliens,” she nodded at Zara. “This should give you an adequate challenge. XCOM soldiers are the best from around the world. I hope you prove yourselves.”

Zara gave a wide smile. “Oh don’t worry, we will.”

“Have we made any progress in infiltrating the Council?” Darian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” Elizabeth answered grimly. “This takes time, though we do have some lower ranking aides who’ve been able to pass along some basic data. Essentially just the members, names and general mood. Although we do have your source, Saudia.”

Saudia nodded. “Yes, and our scheduled info dump is coming up. He’ll likely be able to answer some questions we’ve all be having.”

“Like who the Commander actually is,” Matthew said. “I’ve looked into the possible candidates and everyone is either still serving or dead.”

“Perhaps the deaths were a cover?” Diguon suggested.

“Unlikely,” Elizabeth denied. “I also looked into it. Even from the ones who died, there are better choices still alive.”

“Peter Van Doorn is missing, correct?” Hasina recalled. “He would be an ideal candidate.”

“No,” Saudia shook her head. “Van Doorn went missing long after XCOM began operating. Not to mention the rumors about the hostility between the Commander and Council wouldn’t make sense if that was the case.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have suggestions to exploit that without more information,” Elizabeth said, tapping a finger on the table. “However, I do have ideas on how to hurt them beyond militarily.”

Saudia nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

“We’re in a dilemma,” Elizabeth began. “We must straddle the line between supporting the aliens without weakening humanity when the time to take control comes. My initial ideas were to counter the rise of anti-alien sentiment with pro-alien propaganda. However, I realized that would backfire when we move against the aliens.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “However, I did hit on this idea. Instead of anti-alien propaganda, we instead use anti- _XCOM_ propaganda. We turn the population against XCOM and in turn, the United Nations, but not necessarily the aliens themselves. Then when we reveal ourselves as the alternative, public opinion will be in our favor.”

“An excellent idea,” Diguon complemented. “XCOM has given us plenty of material to use. Their contesting of the wreckage for one, and we can use that to portray them as anti-Chinese.”

“We can also use their alliances against them,” Matthew added. “For Germany we can push the pro-police state narrative and for Israel…perhaps the pro-interventionist narrative?”

“Both would work,” Saudia agreed. “I would also add that we could turn the anti-UN, anti-globalist and anti-establishment demographics against XCOM as well.”

“A few videos of XCOM gunning down civilians would also help,” Elizabeth mused. “Zara, after you kill a few XCOM soldiers I’d ask you not damage the armor too much. My film crews will need at least a few suits.”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best,” Zara answered with a nod.

“This is your area of expertise, Elizabeth,” Saudia told her warily, adding an edge to her voice to emphasize how serious it was. “Do not fail again.”

Elizabeth swallowed and nodded. “I will not, Director.”

Saudia looked around and nodded. “Then dismissed. We have work to do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Expectations

 

_The Bastion, Library_

“I believe that covers everything,” Saudia told him as they sat at one of the few round wooden tables in the well-furnished room.

“Fascinating,” the Chronicler answered as he jotted down notes on his notepad. Saudia had actually never looked at what he wrote down. She assumed he was using it for its intended purpose, but for all she knew, he could be drawing cats. Not an unreasonable guess since he was also a gifted artist.

But whatever his methods, he did his job perfectly well. The Chronicler was an older man, as his white hair and wrinkled face clearly showed. Despite that, he had the best memory of anyone she’d met; likely the reason he’d been chosen in the first place.

Saudia took a sip of her wine. “It was a pivotal meeting. Something that I feel will become more prevalent in the coming days.”

“I’m privileged to live in such interesting times,” the Chronicler stated reverently, putting his pad in his bag and resting his hands on that table. “I confess, I thought our victory would come after my lifetime.”

Saudia snorted in amusement. “You? I’d expect you to outlast me. I’m the third Director you’ve known, correct?”

“True, true,” he chuckled ruefully. “But even I won’t live forever.”

At times she wondered. The Chronicler had been alive her entire life and been essential in helping her as Director. He was as much a part of the Bastion as the building itself and the only one within EXALT that wasn’t tied to the families in some way. The given reason was to prevent biases in the records favoring one family or another.

Objectivity was an excellent reason, but she wasn’t entirely convinced it was the real one. The successor to the Chronicler would always be chosen by the current one, and as far as Saudia knew, that hadn’t been done yet.

Well, she trusted him and in the meantime would enjoy his company. “I’m wondering if I shouldn’t travel to North America,” he said, looking up in contemplation. “It seems as though many important events are taking place,” his tone turned wistful. “It’s also been too long since I’ve seen the United States.”

“If you wish, you could accompany me when I go to meet Matthew,” Saudia suggested. “I don’t see when there’d be a better time.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the Chronicler told her sincerely. “But I don’t get my impressions simply from briefings and reports like you and Matthew do **.** ” His lips curled up. “It’s too… _impersonal_ for me. I need to go to the cities and talk to the people. I can’t simply draw my conclusions from what my superiors tell me. No offense.”

“Fair enough,” Saudia nodded. That could be respected, even if she saw little point in it. Something she’d learned as a girl was that there were very few reasons to care about _ordinary_ people. They were the equivalent of very young EXALT children; uneducated, unreasonable, and had little respect for order and authority. There were exceptions of course, people who rose above the mediocrity and these exceptions were frequently selected to join EXALT; where they could realize their full potential.

Public well-being was important, but only for reasons of efficiency. But even if she didn’t regard the average human highly, that didn’t mean the Chronicler was wrong for doing so. “My offer still stands,” she repeated. “I can speak to Matthew and you can…” she waved her hand aimlessly.  “Do whatever you want.”

“Hmm…” the Chronicler took a sip of his own wine. Setting the glass down, he appraised her with a smile. “I might just do that.”

She raised her glass in acknowledgement and they were silent for a few minutes. “Does it ever make you sad?” She asked, looking in her glass and swishing the red liquid around. “That almost no one will know the truth?”

He sighed and looked around the library, the shelves filled with hundreds of books older than her. The true story of the world scattered throughout. “They wouldn’t understand,” he finally said. “How would it feel, knowing everything around you has been carefully crafted? That the causes and events that you believe in are lies and illusions.” He shook his head. “I suspect most people would be justifiably angry.”

Saudia appraised him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He gave a sad smile. “Perceptive as ever, Saudia. Honestly, it does a little,” he looked away, his white eyes aimless. “The suppression of knowledge is always a sad event, even if I recognize the necessity of it.” He looked back into her eyes. “I know you don’t regard most of the human race highly, but I don’t think they’re _all_ unreasonable.”

“I’ve never said that,” she protested. “But we both know humanity is incapable of uniting without our intervention. It simply isn’t possible.”

“I know, I know,” he placated with a raised hand. “Trust me, I’ve memorized the unfortunate history of our species. I know what we’re capable of in terms of our greed, ambition and conquest. But I’ve also read and witnessed all the good we can accomplish _without_ EXALT.”

He leaned forward intently. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your predecessor; Much as you may wish it, you will not be able to change the world alone. You need to know this now more than ever.”

“You know I always involve the families-“ Saudia began when the Chronicler raised a hand.

“I’m not talking about the families,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve encouraged more cooperation than most Directors. No, you will need to look beyond your own. Not every ally you use to secure the world will, or should be **,** EXALT. It is simply impractical and unrealistic,” he paused. “Deep down, I think you know this.”

“As long as the major governments still exist, you have a point,” she admitted. “But when all those are destroyed there will be little opposition.”

“And what exactly will you do?” He asked, cocking his head to the side inquisitively. “Unite the human race with a few hundred soldiers? Somehow convince the world that an organization never before known should be trusted?”

She sighed. “A rather poor attempt at pointing out the flaws of our objective. Both of us know referring to the plan in such simple terms is wrong.”

“But not unrealistic,” he insisted. “Based on what I know, I don’t think this will work out as…smoothly as you hope.”

Saudia leaned back in her chair. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re trying to suggest something?”

He was silent for a few minutes while she patiently waited. “I’m not suggesting anything yet,” he finally said. “But…don’t dismiss XCOM as a minor inconvenience.”

She frowned. That had come out of nowhere. “And why not? Do you honestly believe they have a chance?”

He pursed his lips. “That depends on if you allow your arrogance to dictate the course of this war.”

A smile crept across her face. The Chronicler was one who spoke his mind and answered questions directly, even if they were insulting. “I assure you, I’m treating XCOM as seriously as they deserve.”

“Then I suppose you have nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “But never underestimate your enemy.”

“A fact that was drilled in by the Venators,” she added, recalling the long days in the Gauntlet.

He chuckled. “I can imagine by the end it was exhausting. The Russian instructor I had delighted in repeating it every few minutes.”

Saudia blinked. The Russian phase of the Gauntlet was the last trial before completion. Only the best of EXALT even attempted it since there was a very real chance of death. “You completed the Gauntlet?”

He looked surprised. “I never mentioned that?”

She shook her head. “No. I guess I just assumed…”

“That I was too old or not strong enough,” he finished, amused. “Well, when you met me, I would have been. But yes, I did. A long time ago, though. I had heard much about the trial and wanted to experience it firsthand. I feel the records are better for my experience.”

She snorted. Of course he would complete the Gauntlet for simple curiosity. She personally was curious what existed deep in the ocean but didn’t really need to actually _see_ it for herself. “Well,” she raised her glass again. “You have my congratulations. Belatedly.”

“Appreciated.” He took another sip.

“Before I forget, thank you for looking after Martel,” she told him.

“Of course,” he answered happily. “He’d a bright kid. You’ve done well so far.”

“He wasn’t too much trouble?” She asked setting her glass on the table.

“Only if you consider endless questions _trouble_ ,” he dismissed easily. “Though he was a lot more interested in what _you_ were doing instead of his mathematics.”

Saudia rolled her eyes. “How utterly shocking. What did you tell him?”

“He’s your son,” the Chronicler answered. “I told him you would answer your questions if he finished his studies and you wanted too. That seemed to placate him.”

“I’m sure it did,” she nodded. “I’ll tell him tomorrow, since it’s…” she glanced at the time. “Almost midnight. Well then.”

“You ever wonder if you tell him too much?” he asked, an eyebrow raised curiously. “I’m not sure he fully comprehends what you tell him.”

“Parents have an annoying habit of not sharing information with their children,” Saudia answered somewhat defensively. “I found it irritating as a child and will not repeat it with my son. Furthermore, children are capable of understanding far more than people give them credit for. All they need is the right upbringing.”

“I’ll trust you on that,” he said, standing up. “It’s been a wonderful conversation, but I need to sleep. You as well, I think.”

She stood as well. “I don’t dispute that. Goodnight, Chronicler.”

He inclined his head in a salute of respect. “You as well, Director.”

***

_The Bastion, Bedroom_

It felt good to finally get out of that uniform. EXALT might be the most visually striking organization in the world in terms of attire, but that didn’t mean she was overly fond of it. Now she simply wore a black t-shirt and shorts. She still found it somewhat amusing that the cloths designers somehow found a way to put the EXALT emblem on literally every piece of clothing.

Well, as long as it was comfortable, she didn’t mind. As she was brushing her teeth, she heard someone come into the bathroom. She spit out the toothpaste and rinsed off the toothbrush. “I was wondering if you’d be sleeping tonight.”

She turned around to see Ethan, still in full uniform, start taking off his weapons. “Just checking that no one smuggled anything here,” he told her as he hung up his rifle. “A lot of people came here today.”

Smirking, she walked over and helped lose the straps on his armor. “Always paranoid. I doubt any of the families would be stupid enough to kill me.”

He shrugged as he put his pistol away. “It’s my job, and it wouldn’t necessarily be on direct orders of the families. It could just be some disgruntled agent. Can never be too sure **.** ” He gave her a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t take chances with my wife, let alone the Director of EXALT.”

She smiled and helped him out of his body armor. “I appreciate it. I suppose a little paranoia is warranted.”

“Healthy even,” he amended and stripped his gauntlets off. “I assume the meeting went well? Everyone seemed rather satisfied.”

Oh right, Ethan would definitely want to know what had transpired. She’d tell him, but she was honestly really tired now. Still, if he wanted it…”You want the long or short answer?”

He appraised her for a few seconds. “Preferably the long version, but you look exhausted so I’ll hold off. Short will do just fine.”

Saudia let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Short version is that everything went great. Well, mostly. We have a good chance to secure South America, possibly North America as well.”

Ethan’s head shot up and he narrowed his eyes. “I know I asked for the short version, but…how? The United States…”

“I honestly don’t know specifics,” she admitted as she walked over to the closet and picked out a plain gray shirt for him. “But Matthew has a plan. One that he seems pretty confident in. Since we also stand to eliminate the Mexican Cartels, I’m inclined to trust him.”

“That a recent development?” Ethan asked as he finished undressing and stepped into the nearby shower. The sound of running water filled the air as Saudia gathered the rest of his cloths.

“Yes,” she answered. “Matthew estimates it will be at least a year before we begin to see real progress.”

“Aren’t you worried that these plans are…” Ethan paused from inside the shower. “Too long term? I mean, there’s an alien invasion happening, I’m not sure we should be planning years in advance when they can end this war within a few months.”

“A risk,” Saudia admitted. “But if the aliens were concerned with conquering this world, I think they’d have done it a while ago. But when the aliens are gone, we’ll need to have operations in place to secure order.”

“You know more than me,” he said, and she could imagine the shrug in his voice. “So anything else?”

“Russia and China might be looking to expand,” she admitted with a sigh. “Diguon believes China will hold back, but Russia…there might be complications.”

“Isn’t that his job?” Ethan asked. “You know, to have people in place for this kind of thing?”

“Yes,” Saudia agreed. “But I don’t know how much he’s delegated to the Russian side of the Mercados. His brother might know more.”

She heard a snort. “Then he’s incompetent or being outmaneuvered for his position,” Ethan commented dryly. “Either way, Russia is too important to go uncontrolled.”

“I know, and I he does as well,” Saudia defended. “But you should know better than anyone how difficult it is to influence the Russian military and government.”

“They are extremely paranoid,” Ethan sighed. “Alright. What of dear Overseer Falka?”

“Elizabeth’s going to begin our propaganda war on XCOM,” Saudia explained, going back over to the mirror and grabbing a hairbrush. Using it, she continued. “Nothing really new with Hasina, funds are increasing and everything’s in order.”

“So what’s Elizabeth’s angle?” He asked, shutting off the water. “I can see several ways she can successfully run a campaign.”

“From our preliminary discussions, I believe she’ll be uplifting the dangers of a secretive paramilitary organization, along with using what we already have on the United Nations. Throw in some doctored footage and it shouldn’t be difficult to turn the public against them.”

“Let’s hope she can pull it off,” he said. “By the way, why was Zara walking out with one of our plasma rifles? I thought those were for research purposes only.”

“They are,” Saudia answered, putting the brush down. “But she asked me for one for “personal use,” I didn’t see much of a reason to refuse. If anyone deserves it, it’d be her. Besides, the aliens will provide us more weapons if we need them.”

“No wonder she looked so happy,” Ethan commented as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. “I suppose you said you’re authorizing combat ops soon?”

“Yep,” Saudia answered, turning back to him. “Something she’s looking forward to.”

“Which brings up something I’ve been thinking about,” Ethan said, beginning to dress in more casual attire. “Are you planning to use me in any combat operations?”

Saudia hesitated. “Yes, for some of them.”

He nodded once. “Good. I’d feel left out if Zara killed these UN puppets without me.” She was surprised at how much venom was in his voice.

“You really want to do this **,** ” she stated, crossing her arms.

“I’d prefer NATO proper,” Ethan shrugged as he finished dressing. “But until we move on the UN, XCOM soldiers will have to suffice. I might not be able to bring my friends or the Commander back…” He tensed up and clenched his jaw. “But I can certainly avenge them. Trust me Saudia, the rest of us feel the same way. This is personal.”

She nodded as she walked over to him. Setting one of her hands over his she looked him in the eye. “I understand. Trust me, you’ll have plenty opportunities to avenge them.”

He smiled and swept her up into his arms in one smooth motion. She rolled her eyes and put her arms around his neck. “You do know I can walk to the bed myself, right?”

“Of course,” he replied easily as he began walking to the bed. “But you deserve a break.”

“Oh, fine,” she conceded, not really feeling up to protesting and rested her head on his shoulder. He gently placed her on the bed and she quickly pulled the blankets over her. Ethan shut off the lights and joined her in bed. Snuggling closer to him, Saudia soon fell into a deep sleep.

***

_The Bastion, The Next Morning_

Saudia walked towards one of the rooms that had been converted into something of a study room. It wasn’t uncommon, especially at the Bastion to find a room that had clearly been originally been something else. Part of this was that they were in Antarctica and adding a new room to the Bastion would be a nightmare in terms of time, resources and manpower.

So sometimes she got requests to turn a rarely used, or unused room into something the base personnel wanted. Unless the request was especially outrageous or the room was actually being used, she typically granted it with the stipulation that the people suggesting it put the work into remodeling.

It was a method of payment she felt worked best. EXALT personnel didn’t get a ‘salary’ as the rest of the world defined it. The families all provided housing, food, clothing, healthcare, essentially everything needed for survival. That didn’t mean the personnel received _nothing_ for their service. While money could be acquire outside EXALT, most just submitted a request for one thing or another. It could be as cheap as a book or as expensive as a car; the cost was inconsequential for an organization as wealthy as them.

For her part, Saudia did her best to authorize the requests and make sure they were on the next supply plane. It was the least they deserved and nearly almost all EXALT personnel didn’t abuse the system set in place and typically only requested small items. They were also typically shared if more than one person could use them. Book swapping was especially common.

At one time she’d noticed an unusable number of games, pool sticks and other conspicuous objects all being requested at the same time. She’d approved them, having some idea of what was coming next. Sure enough, a few days later a request came through for permission to remodel a rarely used storage room into a game room.

She’d approved it of course, though she’d had an amusing talk with the requester basically saying “If you wanted a game room, I’d have approved it. No need to acquire every piece yourselves.” They’d had a good laugh over it and since then the Bastion personnel had been very straightforward with their requests.

She wasn’t sure who’d requested this particular study room originally, but now it’d been taken over by Martel as his own study quarters. He had his own room of course, but didn’t spend much time in it. When asked why, he said it was ‘soothing,’ an odd response until she realized this room was close to the heating generator.

The Bastion required constant heating to prevent fuel freezing and thus required a unique heating generator unlike any in the world. It was expensive to maintain, extremely so, but necessary if the Bastion was to remain livable. It constantly emitted a low hum that permeated through most of the lower floor. Saudia assumed that was what Martel was referring to.

She could understand that. Almost anything was better than dead silence and true to habit, her son was sitting on the couch, a math book beside him, a pad of paper on his lap and a pencil in his fingers. Anyone at first glance would suppose he’d inherited most of his traits from her, but in all honesty, he’d only inherited her black skin and hair. His face, eyes and features were almost exactly like Ethan’s.

And right now, a look of frustration was on his young face. She rapped on the wall with her knuckles several times to get his attention. He looked up and his face lit up. “Mom!”

Beaming, she strode over to him. “Hey there, got some time?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed excitedly as he scooted over allowing her to sit down. She looked over at what he was doing.

“What are you working on?” She asked, looking over his work.

“Math,” he grumbled, the sullen look returning to his face. “It’s hard.”

She smirked. “Well, Algebra wasn’t supposed to be easy.”

“Of course not,” he sighed dramatically. “Can’t you tell me about your meeting instead?”

“Don’t worry,” she promised taking his pad. “But let’s finish this first. Now, tell me where you’re having problems.” With some resignation, Martel nodded, knowing he wouldn’t get anything out of her until they were done.

So for the next forty-five minutes, she helped him. Math had never been that difficult a subject for her, so the problems in his text book were rather trivial. Still, for a child a little younger than eight, they were difficult enough. After a bit of explaining, Martel eventually grasped the concepts and with enough practice, she was confident he’d master them soon.

Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect. “I don’t understand,” he scowled. “How is any of this helpful?”

Oh boy. That question was bound to come up eventually. She’d answered it for herself years ago but wasn’t sure if it would satisfy him. Taking the paper and book, she placed them to the side and looked him in the eye. “You want the truth?”

“Yes.” He said without hesitation.

“Ok,” she nodded. “What do you want to be?”

“Like you!” He answered immediately. She felt a burst of pride at that, she never wanted anything less.

“Glad to hear it,” she told him, ruffling his hair. “But in that case, to answer your question, all these textbooks…you will likely not use much of what you learn ever again.”

That was apparently not the answer he was expecting. He tilted his head, clearly confused, but waited attentively. Withholding a response until she finished, she was pleased he remembered. “The reason you spend hours on algebra is not primarily about the material itself,” she continued. “But to perfect a way of _thinking_. Math teaches you to think analytically, orderly and logically. You want to perfect this until it not only becomes second nature, it _is_ your nature.”

He looked up, clearly thinking. “So the process is more important than the solution?”

“You’re on the right track,” she nodded. “When you take my place, you will be faced with problems that can’t be reduced to a simple formula. In that case you have to rely on the thought process required. Gathering information, using the tools given and solving it in the most effective way.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I think I understand.”

“I think so,” she agreed, standing up. “Come on, I think it’s time you see the control room.”

His eyes lit up at that. He was able to move throughout most of the Bastion, but there were a few places where he wasn’t allowed, and one of those was the control room, the place she coordinated most of her operations. He eagerly walked beside her as they made their way there.

“So what happened?” He asked as they walked.

“Well, we made a lot of important decisions,” she explained casually. “In short, things are going well.”

“But if they are, why are you being friendly to the aliens?” He asked, looking confused. “Aren’t they here to kill us?”

She sighed, not quite sure the best way to explain it. “I know. But we’re…using the aliens. They can help us achieve our goal.”

“So…you’re tricking them?” He asked, looking up at her.

She smiled down. “Yes, that’s pretty close. Once they take down the corrupt governments of the world, it will allow us to take control.”

 He was uncharacteristically silent while they walked. She glanced down to see he clearly wanted to ask something, but was holding back. “What is it?” She finally asked gently. “You have a question?”

“Yes…” he still hesitated. “Won’t that hurt a lot of people?”

She was silent for a minute. “Yes,” she finally said. “It will.”

“But our goal is to help people,” he protested. “Right?”

She wondered how best to explain it to him. She’d explained some of EXALT’s goals in passing a few times, but this was the first he was bringing it up. Hmm…how to do this. “That is _one_ of our goals, yes,” she answered. “But our first goal is to _unite_ the human race.”

“So it’s ok to hurt them if we can unite them?” He asked, still puzzled.

“Not _ok_ ,” she cautioned. “But _necessary_. In a perfect world, no one would be hurt. But we don’t live there; sacrifices have to be made. Do you know _why_ we must be the ones to do this?”

He paused, looking up. “Because we’re better than them?”

She chuckled. “A little blunt, but…correct. Humans are innately rebellious and don’t know what is best for them. The average human is ruled by their emotions, greed and arrogance. Not conductive for our species, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, nodding his head.

“You’ve studied your history, I presume,” she asked rhetorically. It was one of his favorite subjects. “What usually divides us?”

“Ideology, nationality, race, wealth…” he listed off. “A lot of stuff.”

She nodded. “Humanity is simply incapable to rising above this without intervention. _We_ are beyond all the flaws that plague our species. _That_ is why we are above them. And why we are the only ones fit to command them.”

Martel nodded. “That makes sense…but does that apply to _everyone_ who’s not us?”

She contemplated. “For the most part, yes. Exceptions exist, individuals that surpass and break the rules society imposes on them. Your father is one. And despite the majority of the human race being beneath us, we must never ignore the exceptions because that only makes us stronger.”

“Is that why we’re called EXALT?” he asked. “Because we’re the uplifted?”

She smiled. “No, that name used as a label to identify us. EXALT isn’t the first name chosen for us, and it won’t be the last,” she paused. “Though I do think it’s one of the better fitting ones.”

She stopped in front of one of the doors. Quickly entering a code on the keypad beside it, the door slid open and she motioned Martel inside.

“Wow **,** ” he breathed as he looked around the room. Several monitoring computers lines the walls, some with analysts at them. Massive monitors lined the walls, displaying world news, stocks, cyber-attacks and various world maps. At the end was a hologram recreation of the world, which was slowly spinning on its axis.

Saudia walked towards it and tapped the globe which disintegrated into tiny blue cubes which recombined to assemble a flat view of the Earth on the holotable. Now she could see which operations were running throughout the world.

“What are those?” Martel asked, pointing at one of the markers on the map.

“Where agents are stationed,” Saudia explained, touching one and a short dossier assembled in the air along with a picture displaying the agent in question. The dossier itself contained the name, rank and current assignment. “Though these are limited to what country the agent is stationed in. We can’t _completely_ track all their movements.”

“What’s she doing?” Martel asked, looking at the photo of the woman in question. A reasonable question since the information displayed only said “surveillance.” Saudia took a look at the name to recall from memory what it was.

Ah. “Namr Ida…” Saudia said slowly. “She’s keeping an eye on Israel. Making sure they don’t do something without our knowledge.”

“Can I use it?” He asked, eyes brimming with excitement.

“Not today,” Saudia laughed, picking up a tablet. “All this is live and I can’t risk you accidentally hitting something.”

He sighed. “I understand, Mom.”

“Hey,” she chided, kneeling down and handing him the tablet. “I didn’t bring you all the way up here just to show you the fancy equipment.”

He took it. “What’s this?”

“Some additional reading, if you’re interested,” she answered, smiling. “You’re going to run this one day and I think it’d be a good idea for you to know some of the decisions you’ll have to make.” She nodded at the tablet. “That has quite a few completed mission reports on them. Take a look sometime, I think you’ll learn something.”

He clutched it to his chest. “Thanks!”

She gave him a quick hug. “Alright, enjoy that. I’ve got some work to do.”

“Ok,” he answered. “See you later!”

He almost dashed out of the room, eager to look at her gift. She turned back to the holotable, growing more serious. Time to get back to work, best see how the psionic subjects were faring.

***

_The Bastion, Subject Cells_

Annette Durand lay on the bed, struggling to fall asleep in the midst of the voices clamoring for her attention. Their intensity and volume rose and fell at seemingly random intervals but they never left completely. There were always whispers at the edge of consciousness, sounds that were begging to be understood.

She’d learned that she tended to sleep when they dimmed. The opportunities were few and far between, but in the end she almost had no choice as exhaustion forced her into a few hours of blissful unconsciousness.

It had been a blessing at first. The first day she’d been crying in the corner, just wanting something, _anything_ , to stop the voices assaulting her. Eventually she’d fallen asleep and prayed to never be woken up again.

Yet she had. And the voices were louder and _clearer_.

Sleep terrified her now.

She didn’t want to know what they were telling her for fear it would mean she’d finally gone insane. But no matter how much she tried, words, images and feelings were made clear in her mind. It was only flashes now, a recognizable word here and there, an intense feeling for a microsecond, but it was _there_. And only growing stronger.

The voices were a mix of male and female, younger and older, soft and firm, a broken chorus of screams, yells and whispers. The first few days she feared her head would explode from the physical pressure she could swear was in her head. She’d never had a migraine before, but she imagined it was something like that.

Sharp, constant pain for hours on end, like getting a screw drilled into your head slowly enough so every twist could be felt. There were no words she could describe what the first few hours had been like. Only screams.

It’d luckily faded slightly after a while. The pain returned when the intensity of the voices rose, but otherwise stayed at a dull, throbbing pain. Something she could deal with.

Funny how she would have considered that unbearable at home. This place had changed her in more ways than one.

It wasn’t just the voices either. There was something _else_ inside her now. A power within her that she’d accessed for brief moments when she’d been at her lowest. It was uncontrolled, dark and dangerous, even to herself. The scars on her arms were proof of that.

But the feeling of utter _power_ had stayed with her and given strength through the shocks, pain and voices. For a few minutes _she’d_ been in control and had power over her tormentors. That feeling was more potent than any drug.

And she was going to learn how to use it.

If these people wanted to prod, shock, stab and torture, she’d turn what they’d created against them.

With a shout of frustration, she threw off the blanket and began pacing angrily. It was pointless! It didn’t matter what she did it was only going to get worse! One time she was going to wake up and the voices would be clear to her.

She needed to get out of here.

She paused and gave herself a reprimanding laugh. _Yes, Annette, what a novel concept! Why ever didn’t you consider that before? Idiot_. She scolded herself. Of course she needed to get out of here, that had been clear since day one. No, the question she needed to answer now was _how_ she needed to get out of here.

She had no clue where she was. She had no clue how many people were here. She had no idea of the layout of this place.

This was an impossible situation.

_No!_ She berated herself. _Not impossible. You simply don’t have enough information._

_Fine then._ She shot back. _So where am I going to get it?_

She had no answer for that. She had to know what was beyond this cell first.

_Think_. Annette paused her pacing, taking deep breaths. _How would Latrell handle this?_

Her boyfriend would have been far better at devising a way of escape than she. A French GIGN police operative, his specialty was primarily focused on hostage rescue and riot control. Both of which involved lots of planning, into and out of seemingly impenetrable buildings.

Alright. She took another deep breath and sat down at the end of her bed, for once concentrating hard enough to push the voices to a corner of her mind. So what did she have? A few eating utensils they provided her, and…pretty much nothing else. She was fairly athletic, but nowhere near enough to be considered a threat by anyone roughly her size, let alone the guards who were undoubtedly stronger than her.

There was only one possible advantage: Her abilities. Problem with that was they were unpredictable. She’d been only able to use them in extreme periods of stress and was unable to recreate them.

_No_. a mocking voice in her head scolded. _You’re just scared of the pain._

She shook her head. No, that wasn’t it.

Was it?

She looked down at her arms and hand, tiny white scars covering them. The skin was warped and twisted as if exposed to fire or acid. She felt no pain, and retained full functionality of her hands, but the sensation of her flesh opening up as the power released was almost unbearable. The only comfort was the rush of euphoria that followed.

Oddly enough, she remembered no blood or anything accompanying a normal injury like that. Though she’d never forced herself to watch it happen. So it seemed her only chance at escape was using her powers. Somehow. She had the impression that the voices were key to fully understanding her powers and if she really listened that _might_ make her understand.

Or she would go insane.

She wasn’t really ready to risk what remained of her sanity yet.

Annette took a deep breath. Ok. Then the first order of business would be to learn how to consciously use her power. Each time it’d happened, she’d been furious at these people and willing to kill each one of them. Anger. Yes, emotions seemed to trigger it. A good a place to start as any.

It wasn’t difficult to get angry. All she had to do was recall all the times they stuck needles in her, fed her drugs, forced her into withdrawal. The way they treated her as some kind of domestic animal and whose well-being bore no more emotion than an insect was especially infuriating.

She gritted her teeth as she recalled lying in a pool of puke, mucus and waste as she went through withdrawal of one drug they’d injected into her. She’d suffered and writhed for hours until they’d finally come in and cleaned her up. And she’d hadn’t been referred to even as a person.

Because she wasn’t one. She was _Subject Four._

_That_ seemed to be the spark that opened the floodgates. As if a door opened, a flood of energy came into her, which had seemingly just been out of reach or locked up. She felt it running up along her body, looking for an outlet.

She gritted her teeth. As much as she wanted to release the limitless energy, she needed _control_. She forced the energy to converge into her hand. Closing her eyes, she imagined the energy as a purple mist, flowing around her arm, the power slowly growing into a ball of light.

She suppressed a scream as she felt a dozen tears in her flesh as she felt the power gather. Opening her eyes, she observed in amazement at her arm. The arm was torn open, but what came out wasn’t blood, but instead streams of purple energy. The gaps in her flesh flapped like gills, expelling more energy.

The energy itself seemed to let off a corrosive mist that warped the skin around her arm. She barely felt it and only watched in amazement as her arm essentially bubbled, melted and reformed in the span of a few seconds, repeating over and over. As destructive as the energy was, it also seemed to prevent her from falling apart altogether.

She curled the fingers of her left hand into a claw shape, as if to hold a globe or ball. _Gather_ , she thought furiously as the pain intensified. _Converge! Congeal! Stick! Combine!_ Pretty much every synonym she could think of to gather the power in one place.

Then it happened.

A little teardrop of energy that slowly grew. The center grew black as the orb grew to the size of a golf ball. A black hole outlined by purple. The power running along her body was threatening to unleash itself and her vision was tinged purple and red.

With a scowl she closed her fist around the orb, everything clicking into place. The euphoria filled her again, but this time _she_ was in control. If she’d looked in one of the mirrors she’d seen a woman outlined in purple flame, energy flowing through her arms, irises glowing purple and eye sockets leaking smoke.

Annette Durand was in power and she was going to exercise it. Turning around, she looked at the sparse furnishings of her cell. A bed, experiment chair, toilet and showerhead. She curled her lip in disgust. Her cell had provided nothing but horror and she saw no reason to hold back.

Thrusting both her hands forward, she released some of the energy pent up. A purple shockwave tore into the furniture, though not doing much more than moving it back a little. Not good enough, she snarled and focused directly on the cot she’d slept on. With a shout she released a directed wave of energy at the cot which warped and compressed it into an unusable hunk of metal and cloth.

Not nearly done, she whirled around and zeroed in on the door, taunting her with the freedom she craved. Raising her hand, she once again willed the energy to conform and when she could bear it no longer, shot a bolt of purple energy into it.

It slammed into it with a spark but little else. Her fury growing, she repeated it again. And again. And again.

And again.

Her frustration became unbearable as the purple tint threatened to engulf her vision. Small pulses of energy coming off her unconsciously, she stormed over to the taunting door. The mirror that covered the walls covered it as well, showing her a woman being repeatedly denied.

_“Open!”_ She screamed, unable to take it any longer and threw her fist into the mirror.

Her fist cracked through the bulletproof glass and another shockwave shot across the room. The mirrors closest to her were similarly cracked and even the furthest ones were scratched at the very least if the shockwave had hit.

Annette sank to the floor, her right hand feeling broken as the power and euphoria slowly faded, leaving her drained, in agony and defeated. The wounds that she’d suffered were now fully felt but she didn’t even have the energy to scream.

Her only visible expression of her pain were the tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

The voices were making themselves known again, growing louder as she slowly lost the will to ignore them.

_…Lost cause…_

_…Shipment…_

_…Brazil…_

_…Victory or…._

_…XCOM…strength…_

_…Aliens won’t wait…._

_Stop_! She begged as she began understanding more word. _Please stop!_

_Subject Four…_ She gasped as she heard that.

Then the door opened, as some cruel joke.

The man and woman who’d experimented on her from the beginning stood over her, she unable to move.

“We didn’t even have to subdue her,” the woman commented, peering down at her with interest, Annette unable to move from exhaustion. “She exhausted herself.”

“I think we can mark this as a success,” the man nodded, making a note on his tablet. “Subject Four displays exceptional abilities when agitated. I think we can unquestionably draw a link between a higher emotional state and control over psionics.”

Annette was beginning to lose consciousness, but was able to make out a few more sentences. “So that pheromone had the desired effect,” the woman noted, taking out some kind of spray. “But I do wonder if it would have the same effect if we stimulated another emotion. Rage is easy, but what about…hmm. Sadness, perhaps?”

“Rage is the easiest,” the man corrected as the woman sprayed some sort of liquid on her wounded arms. “Not to mention it proved our hypothesis. But I’ll speak with the chemists to see if we can use another pheromone.”

“Good,” the woman nodded. “It’d be a shame to-“

Then Annette blacked out, the voices echoing in her dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. UFO Assault: Raider II

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“Where did it crash?” The Commander asked, re-watching the footage of the Ravens shooting another UFO out of the sky. Bradford had taken the initiative and ordered four Ravens once the UFO had been detected and by the time the Commander had arrived, they’d shot it down and were heading back.

“We determined the crash site is in the interior of Florida,” Bradford answered, pulling the map of the United States up on the holotable. “We’re working to get satellite coverage and a general area now.”

“A raider,” Van Doorn noted, as he watched the footage. “Then we should expect a tough fight.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded, turning towards the holotable and resting his hands on it. “The aliens are probably going to continue deploying more advanced units the further we progress in this war.”

“I do wonder,” Van Doorn pondered, also turning to the holotable. “What exactly the purpose of these UFO’s are? I know what _we’ve_ designated them, but I find it unlikely that the aliens would completely follow our assumptions.”

“From the wrecks we’ve recovered, I’d say the majority are for reconnaissance,” Bradford commented, pointing at the holographic UFO recreation. “Most scanners are unable to detect them and they are often at extremely high altitudes. Their low crew count and heavily computerized interiors also suggest primarily non-combat directives.”

The corners of the Commander’s lips turned up. “If these are the non-combative aircraft, I do wonder what their combative UFOs are.”

“Not good?” Bradford suggested with a sarcastic grimness.

“No,” the Commander agreed. “Which is something that we need to anticipate. Our aircraft need to be upgraded. Armor and weapons. The aliens are going to start deploying UFO’s to counter our fighters eventually and we need to be ready.”

“Laser weaponry should be used,” Van Doorn stated. “We have the technology.”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded, gazing at the blue lights, deep in thought. “I’ll be speaking to Shen about this soon. In the meantime, have we got the green light on our airbases?”

Van Doorn nodded. “We have. We can station some of our Ravens in NATO’s Indian base.”

Bradford frowned. “I wasn’t aware NATO _had_ an Indian base.”

“It’s not large,” Van Doorn answered with a shrug. “And no one was supposed to know about it. It was to be used only if the surrounding regions got out of control. It’s isolated enough that very few should notice our fighters leaving or arriving.”

The Commander nodded. “Excellent. Germany has also agreed to allow us to use one of their airbases. Israel as well. Within a few weeks we should have air support over Europe, Africa and now at least part of Asia.”

“That’s going to cut into our funds,” Bradford warned. “Especially since each additional Raven will have to be upgraded when Shen develops newer technology.”

“I know,” the Commander said. “But this is an investment we have to take. We have a limited window before the aliens up their air game. I’d prefer we retain air superiority.”

Bradford nodded and looked down at his tablet, tapping on it. “Understood, Commander. I’d also suggest we continue bolstering our ground forces.”

“We have a healthy supply,” the Commander noted. “Especially since we recently acquired a few more soldiers recently,” he grimaced. “And I think we need to screen our candidates better.”

Van Doorn looked over, concerned. “Why?”

The Commander sighed. “Bradford, when you approved the latest batch, did you look at a certain Shun Anwei?”

Bradford nodded, head tilted. “Yes, the MSS agent.”

“You approved a Chinese spy,” the Commander stated. “I’m not sure we should allow this.”

Bradford frowned. “She was one of the most qualified on the list. I didn’t see a reason to reject her.”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “I do. With the Chinese not exactly… _happy_ … with us right now, I can see concerns about allowing an agent of the Ministry of State Security into the Citadel.” He looked over at the Commander. “That is your concern, correct?”

“Correct,” the Commander confirmed. “I have no doubt she is qualified. But…like Van Doorn said, with China somewhat antagonistic towards us, we can’t dismiss the idea that she’s gathering information.”

“For what?” Bradford questioned. “China is part of the Council. They can request anything from us, or they could just talk with Herman if they want information about what goes on here. Besides, all communications are strictly monitored, incoming and outgoing.”

“The point is that we can no longer accept everyone,” the Commander said. “Not until relations stabilize a bit more.”

“While I understand the sentiment,” Van Doorn pointed out. “We already have several Chinese soldiers here. I don’t think adding one more will make much of a difference.”

“Not to mention we have quite a few Israeli operatives here as well,” Bradford added. “You think they are more trustworthy?”

“Of course,” the Commander stated without hesitation. “Israel is an actual ally. Furthermore, Zhang assures me of their loyalty.”

“Well, they did follow the Hades Contingency,” Bradford muttered. “I suppose that would remove most doubts.”

The Commander ignored that as he thought. “Well, I’m going to assign some type of surveillance on her, at least at first. If she proves herself, I will drop it.”

“She’s a spy,” Bradford recalled. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to notice.”

“Perhaps,” the Commander admitted. “But I trust Zhang to do this professionally. He should find it especially interesting since he despises the MSS.”

“And if she notices something?” Bradford asked. “I’m not sure how well she’ll take that.”

“If she does, I’ll tell her the truth,” the Commander shrugged. “She should know exactly why she’s a security risk. If she doesn’t then that will immediately raise suspicion.”

“That it will.” Van Doorn agreed.

“Yes,” the Commander stated. “With Zhang watching her, I feel very confident she won’t try anything and if she does…” he paused. “I’ll give her to Vahlen.”

Bradford shuddered. He’d spoken with Vahlen several times and some of the ideas she had about the application of the MELD substance had…disturbed him. The Commander had asked for specifics before he planned on speaking to her, but Bradford had said Vahlen wanted to show him herself.

Although he had mentioned spiders, which the Commander was surprised at.

“Speaking of which,” Bradford cleared his throat. “The first of the, ah, _test_ _subjects_ have arrived and are being moved to the experimentation cells.”

“Excellent,” the Commander smiled. Vahlen would be pleased with this. It had taken some work, but they’d managed to get one prisoner off death row from multiple prisons across the United States. As far as anyone was concerned, these men were dead. Germany had also provided several as well as a gesture of cooperation. All combined to ten test subjects. He figured that would be enough for Vahlen to work with.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Van Doorn said, looking at the Commander grimly. “We’re treading on _very_ thin ground here. The Council would shut us down if they knew what we were conducting.”

The Commander shrugged. That had ceased to become a concern a long time ago, not to mention ‘shutting them down’ was unlikely and would essentially doom the world. “We have no choice here. Would you prefer we experiment on our own soldiers?”

“No,” Van Doorn admitted. “But I’m not sure this is any more right.”

“Or natural **,** ” Bradford added. “Some of Vahlen’s ideas are…concerning.”

“I’ll decide that for myself,” the Commander stated. “Besides, that’s what the test subjects are for. We find out what works and what doesn’t. We take what works and use it. Simple as that.”

Bradford sighed. “I truly hope it works out that way.” He glanced over at the holotable. “In the meantime, we have a location.”

The Commander nodded. “I’ll assemble a squad. Van Doorn?”

“Yes.”

“Get Herman up here,” the Commander finally said after some hesitation. “Let him see how a combat op is run.”

Van Doorn nodded. “Will do, Commander.”

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Patricia sank into a chair, sweat beading her face as she took a long drink of water. It was odd, but she didn’t feel utterly exhausted even after a three-hour workout. Tired, yes, but not wiped out. She didn’t know if that should concern her or not, but it was a distraction from the ever-worsening headaches.

Of course Vahlen hadn’t updated her. Which either meant she’d not figured anything out, or what was affecting her was serious enough to consult the Commander first. And wouldn’t that just be her luck; to be the first person to be affected by some alien contagion.

She scowled, trying to wrap her head around what it could possibly be. Alright, do this logically: It probably _wasn’t_ a contagion or disease since there had been others on the Dreadnaught assault. Unless it was gender-targeted? No, Abby had also been with her and she wasn’t affected as far as she knew.

Furthermore, it seemed like an odd disease if all it did was make her have headaches, see symbols and have some hallucinatory precognition. Not to mention she’d not seen any method of transmission. There hadn’t been any strange gasses or liquids she’d come into contact with. Of course it _was_ possible that it was odor and colorless, but again, why would she have been the only one affected?

She nodded. Right. So this probably wasn’t a disease, which did come as something of a relief. But then…what _was_ it? Those power conduits were what started everything; for some reason, they’d shown the symbols and when the symbols started, the buzzing and headaches had followed.

Hmm…Vahlen’s idea that an alien had been communicating with her was extremely disconcerting, yet it did make some sense. Who else had the ability to do that? But how-and _why_ -would the aliens be using power conduits as methods of communication? And _how_ did they communicate in the first place?

The sectoids could probably utilize some form of telepathy, but they might not be the only alien species to do so. She suspected it was tied to psionics in some way, since they’d used it for mental manipulation in combat several times. So…was she contacted through psionics?

Oh…oh no. She groaned as a new idea struck her. Perhaps the reason that the power conduits had started this is that she had inadvertently tapped into some sort of psionic network. That would explain the progression of the symbols and meanings as they’d fought through the Dreadnaught.

_Surprise_. The alien had been surprised that she had accessed the network and had instinctively sent the message. Or maybe the alien hadn’t expected anything. Either one would explain it.

_Interest_. The alien must have figured out she wasn’t one of them and was curious as to who. Or perhaps interested in how an unauthorized being entered the network. Again, both explanations would seem to work.

_Disappointment_. That confused her. Perhaps it was supposed to discourage her from entering the network again? Or it was disappointment in whoever allowed this flaw in the network. Yet she got the impression that the symbol had been directed at _her_. It didn’t make sense.

_Potential_. Another confusing word. Potential for what? Unless…

She took a deep breath. There was one thing she needed to know: whether the network could be accessed by _anyone_ or only _psionic users._

Because if it was _anyone_ she was probably worrying over nothing.

But if it was only accessible to people who were _psionic…_

She took another breath. How would that even be _possible_? But…she’d seen something differently on the unlock screens. She’d known exactly what buttons to press and in which order, as if by instinct. What if it was designed in such a way that only psionic individuals could unlock it…?

And that would explain the _potential_ symbol. She had potential to become a psionic human. Something she hadn’t thought was even possible.

She felt suddenly cold. Vahlen wasn’t an idiot, she’d probably had suspicions judging by how quickly she’d left after taking the brain scans. And if she _was_ psionic…she didn’t know how people would react; how the _Commander_ would react. He was a fair man, but he might very legitimately see her as a possible security risk or someone to detain until they studied her thoroughly.

And the headaches, buzzing and…apparent precognition and empathy…all connected to the mind in some way and since it seemed psionic individuals had the ability to exhibit telepathy, it would explain the odd sensations and random-

A finger tapped her shoulder and she started violently. She bit her tongue to prevent a startled yip, but her heart began racing rapidly as she looked up to see who it was.

Anius Creed stood behind her, his expression clearly not expecting that reaction. “Sorry. Thought you would have heard me coming up. Wasn’t trying to startle you, promise.”

Calming down some, she shook her head and opened her mouth to speak and gasped as a wave of emotion washed over her. _Regret, sincerity, apology_. Without question she knew she’d somehow tapped into Creed’s emotions. Again.

He frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I…yes,” she answered, not sounding remotely convincing, even to her. “You’re fine. I was just…thinking.”

He didn’t look entirely at ease, but he relaxed some and walked over and sat by her. “Here,” he gave her another water bottle and took her empty one. “I figured you could use it. Even if you were in one of your trances again.”

“Thanks,” she gratefully took it and after taking a sip, poured some of it on her face to cool it down.

“No problem,” he answered. “So what did you figure out this time?”

“Sorry?” she asked, looking over at him in confusion.

He indicated her face. “When you zoned out. That only happens when you’re trying to solve something.”

Patricia sighed and looked away. “Yeah. I guess I do look zoned out.”

“Completely,” he agreed, with a small grin. “Which is probably why you didn’t notice me coming. But you didn’t answer my question.”

She didn’t really know how she’d explain it in a sensible way even if she wanted to tell him. He was a fairly smart man, he’d probably believe her for at least some of it. What she wasn’t sure about was how he’d react to knowing she had somehow felt his emotions before. That would be…uncomfortable if the roles were reversed, even if it was something she couldn’t control.

“After the Dreadnaught…” she began slowly. “Do you feel any…different? Changed?”

“In what way?” He asked, shifting to face her better. “I mean, we lost a lot of good people. People you know longer than I did. I guess it just made me more determined to wipe out the aliens.”

“I was thinking more…physical changes,” Patricia amended. “Or mental, for that matter.”

He thought for a second. “No. I’m still the same person, at least physically. Maybe in a bit better condition, to be honest,” he looked at her with concern. “Why do you ask?”

She shook her head. “Just curious. You were the only one other than Abby who survived and that was an odd ship. Just wondering if you were feeling any adverse effects.”

“Uh huh,” he said with a sarcastic nod. “You see, normally I’d be glad my superior took an interest in my health, but I do _feel_ it’s a little late since that mission was…hmm…a few _weeks_ ago.”

Her cheeks flushed at that. Not exactly the best excuse. “Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he raised a hand. “Patricia, you’re a _very_ bad liar. What’s going on with you?”

She sighed, cursing his concern. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

His tone grew stern. “I don’t think so. You’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time training and practicing. I can certainly appreciate it…but you hardly eat, you’re not sleeping, or sleeping well at the very least. You seem constantly on edge and in some sort of discomfort…if you aren’t going to tell me, at least go to Vahlen or that medic. Because you are _not_ fine.”

Patricia leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to think of a good response. Everything he’d said was true, but she didn’t really want to talk about it. Her problems were her own and she never shared them. She was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to help even if she did talk, but it was doubtful he would let this drop.

“Fine,” she finally admitted. “You’re right.”

“And…” he pressed. “That it?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, he winced under her gaze. “Yes. That’s it. Suffice to say that I’m well aware of my health and am taking the steps needed. You have no reason to be concerned. Drop it.”

“Ok, ok,” he placated. “Sorry, won’t bring it up again.”

She immediately felt bad after that. It wasn’t his fault, he was just concerned about her and her response might have been a little harsh. But as long as it worked. “Apology accepted,” she told him more softly, hoping that would defuse things a little.

Her wristband buzzed and she immediately stood and began moving to her locker. “Time to work,” she muttered as she began donning her armor.

“What do you think it is?” Creed asked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“UFO perhaps?” She shrugged as she pulled on her gauntlets and tightened everything. “But it must be routine, otherwise they’d have informed me beforehand.”

“Good luck,” Creed told her as she pulled on her helmet and the HUD initialized. “Try to not die.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promised, grasping her autolaser. “We’ll talk later.”

He nodded and she left the barracks and began walking towards the hanger. Moving at a brisk pace, she arrived at the hanger quickly. In a rare occurrence, she was the last to arrive since even the pilot was there. Fallen Sky, his call sign was. Seeing her enter, he immediately headed for the skyranger and the others saluted her as she approached.

She did a quick head count. Almost all of them were veterans and by now she could tell who was who judging by their armor. Some added marks or names commemorating missions or fallen soldiers. She kept her armor clear, but did have three black strips on her arm for the fallen of the Dreadnaught Assault.

Patricia recognized Sarah, Myra, Yousef and Friendly, the NATO soldier who’d come soon after Van Doorn. Wasn’t his name, of course, but it what everyone ended up calling him; he didn’t mind, in fact he’d been encouraging it. All the same to her. The last woman was different and not just because she was new.

She was outfitted as one of the Scouts, from her flash-bangs and laser SMG. But what really made her stand out was the German Shepherd at her feet. The dog was just sitting and looking up at her, tongue hanging out of its mouth. A black vest with pockets and unusually thick padding was strapped to the animal, indicating it was likely combat trained. Odd. Alright, she’d have to question the woman later, but since the dog was clearly coming along, she didn’t see a reason to pause for questions.

“Load up!” She ordered motioning at the skyranger.

“Yes, Overseer!” They affirmed and followed her up into the skyranger which departed a few minutes later.

***

_Skyranger, En route to UFO Crash Site_

Patricia waited a few minutes before addressing the woman. Clasping her hands together she looked over at the dog. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Patricia Trask, Squad Overseer.”

“A pleasure,” the woman answered with a nod, her voice clearly had a middle-eastern accent. “Galia Loeb, Israeli Defense Force, Oketz Unit.” She reached down and rubbed the dog on the head. “This is Aluma.”

“A canine unit I assume?” Myra guessed, looking at the dog. “Haven’t really encountered those before.”

“Yep,” Galia answered as Aluma nuzzled her leg. “We’re usually used for tracking and drug busting. Aluma and I are a little more specialized. We’re strictly used for combat, which is probably why I was deployed here.”

“You really think that pup is going to take down a muton?” Friendly asked skeptically, eyeing the innocent looking dog.

Galia laughed. “No, probably not, but after seeing her rip apart armored men more times than I’d like to recall, I wouldn’t discount her in a fight.” Aluma suddenly got up and walked over to Patricia who extended her palm for her to sniff.

“She may look cute now,” Galia continued, sounding smug. “But you might change your mind if you ever see her charging towards you.”

“I’ll try not to antagonize her,” Patricia promised petting the dog on the head. “She seems like a smart girl.”

“לבוא,” Galia called and the dog immediately trotted back over. Well, it made sense she’d been trained in Hebrew and not English. “Aside from fighting, I think we’ll be able to find the aliens a little quicker with her.”

“She is right,” Yousef agreed. “German Shepherds are exceptional trackers.

“I think that can be applied to all dogs,” Myra muttered.

Galia snorted. “Trust me, it’s harder to actually train the dog to find what _you_ want. Most dogs just end up chasing a squirrel or something.”

“I can vouch for that **,** ” Patricia commented fondly recalling the dog her family had when she’d been a girl. A golden retriever, he’d been one of the sweetest animals she’d ever encountered, but he really was the dumbest animal on the planet when it came to following directions.

“So you know what to expect?” Patricia asked her, moving to more practical matters.

“Certainly,” Galia nodded as Aluma laid at her feet. “Israel has a mandatory training on killing the aliens. I presume most of the footage shared was from XCOM.”

“How did they get it?” Sarah asked, confusion in her voice. “XCOM doesn’t share with just anyone.”

“Our alliance with XCOM, I assume,” Galia shrugged. “I don’t know the Prime Minister and can certainly not speak for him, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he requested the footage for exactly this purpose.”

Hmm. That was a good idea. Sharing the footage from the armor cams for instructional videos on how to effectively kill the aliens was an ideal use. Patricia couldn’t imagine a situation where a military would refuse an offering like that. XCOM wasn’t a secret anymore, and neither were the aliens…she should probably make a suggestion.

_Ah_! She gritted her teeth as several words appeared in her mind.

… _En route…_

_…Florida…_

_…Laser fire…_

Then disappeared just as quickly. Blinking, she wondered what that was. Not the right time to focus on that. She was growing more concerned she might have one of these episodes in combat. _Focus_. It’ll be fine.

_I’ll be fine._

“ _This is the Commander to Pacer Team,”_ the Commander informed. _“You’re heading to Florida for this mission. We’ve downed a Raider-class UFO and the surviving crew needs to be dealt with._

Florida. Patricia turned cold remembering the word appearing in her mind. It couldn’t be a coincidence. How had she picked up on that?

“Understood,” she answered, hiding all the concern she was feeling. “Do we have a crew count?”

_“Negative,”_ the Commander answered. _“And we’re still working to acquire a satellite over the general area. Though we do know it’s crashed into one of the more isolated parts. Only a few farms around.”_

“So our cover will be limited.” Myra stated.

_“Likely,”_ the Commander agreed grimly. _“The good news is that the aliens will be equally exposed.”_

“Do we have any idea what to expect?” Sarah asked, fingering her laser SMG.

_“We are anticipating Outsiders, drones and sectoids at the very least,”_ the Commander answered. _“Bradford says we’re detecting an odd signature from the crash site. Be on guard, the aliens may start fielding more advanced units now.”_

“Understood,” Patricia nodded. “We’ll wipe them out.”

_“As expected, Overseer. Good luck. Citadel Command, out.”_

The line went dead. Patricia focused on the map of the area she’d been sent. They needed to know where the UFO was before making any battle strategies. “Galia, you think Aluma could find the aliens?”

She could easily imagine the woman smiling. “I guarantee it.”

“Excellent **.** ” The lights dimmed and blinked to a solid red.

_“This is Fallen Sky to Pacer Team,”_ Fallen Sky stated. _“We’re approaching the crash area. I’m setting you just outside it. Prepare for landing.”_

Patricia stood and unhooked her autolaser flicking the safety off. “Form up!”

The rest of them complied and with a chorus of hisses and clicks, readied their laser weapons. Galia stood directly to her right and Aluma between them. The dog licked her lips as if she knew they were going hunting. German Shepherds were among the more intelligent breeds, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.

She felt the skyranger swing around, rapidly descending until they hit the ground with a thud. With a squeal, the ramp descended onto the short grass without a sound displaying the fields of grass and fences.

Patricia raised her autolaser. “Deploy!” She ordered and charged out into the hot Floridian sun, the rest of the squad behind her.

***

_Florida_

Patricia motioned Galia forward. “Let your dog lead the way. Everyone else, weapons at the ready.”

Each of them nodded and formed a semi-circle around the ramp as the skyranger departed. Yousef and Friendly knelt to one knee while Patricia and Myra held their autolaser and rifle at the ready while Sarah stood between them. Galia reached into a pack on the dog’s vest and pulled out a withered sectoid hand.

The severed appendage had clearly been dried and drained of blood but Patricia had no doubt it smelled. Clever, the UFOs usually had sectoids so this was an ideal way to catch the scent; more so than hoping the mutt picked it up from random sniffing.

Galia knelt by the Aluma and held the hand in front of her nose which the dog took a few sniffs off. “חפש והשמד, Aluma.” She instructed softly, rubbing the dog's head with her free hand. “מצא אותם.”

The dog lifted her nose into the air as Galia stood back up and placed the hand back into the backpack. “Give her a minute,” she told Patricia. “It shouldn’t be long.”

While the dog worked on getting the scent, Patricia looked around. The area was open with large fields holding cows and horses that grazed and ran without a care in the world. A few lines of trees were here and there, but they were sparse and couldn’t be relied on for significant cover.

What stood out to her were the scattered stables and houses. Not _all_ of them could be abandoned, which meant there was a possibility of civilians. “Citadel Command, this is Squad Overseer Trask, this seems to be a lightly populated area and we might run into civilians. Any instructions?”

There was a pause. _“No special instructions, Overseer Trask,”_ the Commander answered. _“Avoid contact if possible. In the event of civilian intervention, attempt to steer them away from the fighting. Do not risk your life for theirs and if they turn hostile, you are cleared to defend yourself.”_

Essentially the Thanatos Contingency, she supposed the only reason he wasn’t specifically saying it was that he didn’t think it was warranted for a few farmers and horse breeders. “Understood, Overseer Trask out.” They resumed waiting.

“Would you do it?” Sarah asked after a few minutes. “Shoot a civilian?”

She said it as if it should be a moral dilemma or something. Perhaps it would have, had she not constantly been at war the past half-year. But her views had changed, if they had ever been different to begin with. “Sarah,” she began wearily. “I’m wearing armor that looks like something out a movie. I’m carrying a weapon almost as tall as you and am fighting aliens and trying to save people’s lives. If some idiot looks at me and decides that “yes, I’m going to attack this woman.” Then I’d end their life without a second thought. I have neither the time, nor patience for idiots anymore. Armed idiots even less so.”

“Ah,” Sarah answered quietly. “I see.”

“Honestly, they would kind of have it coming,” Friendly commented. “Stupidity has no place in war.”

“Hear, hear,” Myra muttered. “But I wouldn’t shoot to kill. Maybe just take the legs off.”

Patricia shrugged, how others dealt with that situation wasn’t of interest to her. “As long as the threat is neutralized.”

Aluma whined and nuzzled Galia’s leg. “She’s got it.” Galia confirmed as the dog began trotting ahead, turning around for her master. “לאט, לאט.” She chided the dog. “יַצִיב. עקוב אחריה.” She pointed at Patricia

Patricia had no idea what she was saying, but Aluma calmed down and waited for them to move forward. “You can take point,” Galia said, stepping back. “I’ve designated you as the leader. She’ll lead you to the aliens.”

Patricia nodded. “Keep your weapons up. This is an open area, but they might have decided to surprise us and take one of the houses.” She looked down at Aluma and motioned forward. “Lead the way, girl.”

Aluma yipped happily and lead them at a steady pace through the fields. The livestock avoided them for the most part as they hopped over fences and moved though tall grass. Smoke was in the air now and she could see it coming over a row of trees. They were just past one of the houses when the sensation of absolute _terror_ washed over her and she instinctively swung her weapon around towards the house at a man aiming a rifle out his window.

The rest of the squad turned toward her and aimed their weapons at the man whose expression morphed from nervous to terrified. Instead of letting the emotion pass, she tried holding onto it, looking deeper. It was more than terror, she got an impression of _nervousness_ and _uncertainty_. She lowered her weapon as she realized what had happened. This man was no threat to them.

Turned up the voice projector she addressed the man. _“We are not here to hurt you. Take your family and lock yourselves in a secure room. Do not emerge until the fighting stops.”_ She paused. _“And don’t point your weapon at us unless you intend to use it. You will not survive next time.”_

Without checking to see if he understood she turned away and resumed following Aluma.

“He’s gone,” Sarah breathed. “How did you know he was there?”

She paused, wondering if what had happened was done on purpose or not. “Lucky guess.”

“Lucky for him,” Myra muttered. “That almost got him killed.”

They kept walking until Patricia spotted a gleaming silver _thing_ in the distance. Immediately, she fell to one knee and raised a fist. The squad immediately followed suit. “Think I see it,” she muttered. “Dead ahead.”

“Yeah,” Myra agreed, moving beside her. “With only a sheep pen between us for cover. The house is too close.”

“We could move around, take the house.” Friendly suggested. “We have enough space.”

“That would take time,” Patricia pointed out. “I’m not sure how much we have. Not to mention we’ll be completely exposed if caught.”

“But they will be too,” Yousef added. “Unless they have a sniper, we’d be too far out of range.”

“Or they might have taken the house,” Patricia guessed. “It’s the most tactically sound thing to do.”

“Let me go up,” Sarah asked. “I’ll get you a better view.”

Patricia thought about it. Of all of them, she was the one best suited for scouting, and not just because that was her specialization. “Fine. We’ll begin moving around the side, out of the line of sight to the UFO.”

“On it.” She nodded and dashed off.

“This would be so much easier at night,” Yousef muttered as they began moving.

They advanced at an agonizingly slow rate as they moved on the ground through the field. Sarah’s voice came through as they were roughly a third towards the house. “ _Alright, got eyes on them.”_

“Put it on squadsight protocol,” Patricia ordered as she stopped and a few seconds later, another screen superimposed itself over hers. What she saw didn’t look good.

Fortunately, it didn’t look like time was going to be a concern since the UFO was burned and warped seemingly beyond repair. Four drones flew above it, though their repairs didn’t seem to be doing much. Unfortunately, it looked like the aliens had come to a similar conclusion.

“They’re preparing,” Patricia muttered. There were three of those mechanized sectoids with massive guns for arms standing in a semi-circle outside, protecting the UFO. Sectoids were scurrying around, chittering to each other. She saw no outsiders, but figured they were still in the UFO.

“ _The house appears to be empty,”_ Sarah said. _“It seems they value the UFO more.”_

“Good work,” Patricia shut off the squadsight. “Stay there and keep us updated while we move. We’re taking the house if they don’t want it.”

_“Understood.”_

They kept moving slowly until they arrived at the far end of the house. Or more accurately, the side since the front door wasn’t facing them and a swimming pool was in the back. A rather large swimming pool too.

“Can we cut in?” Myra asked, eyeing the walls.

“Better idea,” Patricia answered, nodding toward a window. “We cut those.”

Friendly aimed his weapon at the window and carefully and quietly cut it out with his laser rifle. Each of them went inside into a large bedroom. “Sarah, we’re in. Any updates?”

_“Nope. Aliens are moving like normal. Though they seem to be getting antsy.”_

Too late for them. _“Pacer Team, this is the Central. We have satellite coverage over the area. Sending feed.”_

Patricia smiled. “Much appreciated Central.” The screen popped up and she knew exactly how she was going to attack. “Yousef, Galia, Friendly, move to the garage and prepare to attack from there. Myra and I will fight from the second story.”

They all nodded in affirmation. Patricia and Myra charged up the wooden stairs and quietly worked their way over to the windows where they had a full view over the area. “This is going to be fun,” Myra muttered. “Should we concentrate on one?”

Patricia looked over. “Could you get a headshot?”

“Possibly,” Myra answered, eyeing one of the mechanized sectoids. “But I can’t guarantee it.”

“Understood.” Patricia acknowledged, thinking. Best case they both got headshots and took down two of those things at once. Worst case they missed, but the most likely is that both aliens would take damage, but ultimately live. So, possibly get two kills but likely none or one guaranteed kill?

“Concentrate on the far one,” she finally decided, figuring that would give Sarah the opportunity to join them. “Sarah, once you hear fighting, come join us. Carefully, of course.”

_“Will do, Overseer.”_ She confirmed.

_“Me and Yousef can target the one closest to us,”_ Friendly told her. _“Galia could harass the middle one.”_

_“I could,”_ Galia confirmed. _“Though I’m not sure how much sustained fire I could take.”_

“We’ll be ready to assist after we kill the first one,” Patricia assured her. “Fire on my mark.”

She took a deep breath, her heart rate slowing and entered an unusually tranquil frame of mind. Time seemed to slow as she suddenly became aware of each person around her and their current state.

Myra calm and focused, waiting to fire.

Yousef nervous, but keeping it under control.

Sarah waiting in anticipation for the fighting to start.

Friendly eagerly anticipating killing the aliens.

Galia tense, already imagining the plasma fire raining down on her.

What was wrong with her?

Patricia raised her rifle, still feeling in a trance and Myra followed suit, perfectly in sync. The instant her finger pulled on the trigger, spitting out red bursts, every soldier began moving, not even needing her signal. They _knew_ when to fire.

The instant the laser hit the alien, the trance broke and the sounds of the world returned to her. The combined fire of Myra and Patricia utterly destroyed the mech which collapsed to the ground. A similar explosion happen to the right as Yousef and Friendly destroyed another one.

The aliens reacted instantly and the last remaining mech looked up and a blast shield deployed over it’s face. Without bothering to look at Galia, it immediately targeted her. Green plasma burst from its cannons, splintering the walls and forcing her back.

“ _Sectoids mobilizing,”_ Yousef warned. _“We’re focusing on them._ ”

“Understood,” Patricia gritted her teeth and peeked out. The mech was not focusing on Galia, giving her an opportunity to lay down a barrage of red laser fire. Most of the rounds hit, forcing the mech to take a step back, it’s chest sparking.

Patricia grinned wickedly. Time to die. As another barrage from Myra landed, she prepared to deliver the killing blow.

Until the mech started shimmering, the alien suddenly cocooned in a transparent veil that looked like running water. Patricia watched in surprise as the laser fire dissipated in the shield as if it was nothing.

Currently invulnerable, the mech raised it’s cannons and fired at her again. She ducked to the side as burning plasma fire rained around her. “Yousef! Friendly! Status?”

_“Alive,”_ Friendly answered, sounding strained. _“We’re pinning the sectoids for now. But I think one of them did something to the mech.”_

She scowled. A psionic shield of some kind. Now she remembered something similar had happened on the Dreadnaught. That thing was going to be invincible unless they killed the sectoid.

_“Overseer, suppress it for a moment,”_ Galia asked. _“Aluma can deal with the sectoids.”_

Time for that dog to prove her worth. “Go for it!” She shouted, swinging her weapon out the window again firing at the mech. “Suppressive fire!” The mech looked up at her, seemingly unimpressed as laser fire rained around it.

“לִתְקוֹף!” She heard Galia shout and the dog took off.

Aluma charged around the mech and directly into the line of sectoids. With ferocious barks, the dog leapt at the closest sectoid, pinned it to the ground and ripped it’s scrawny throat out. Without wasting time, she launched herself at the next one and proceeded to do the same.

The last two sectoids began scrambling back, firing randomly at the growling and snapping dog, teeth dripping with yellow blood. Galia was right, an angry German Shephard was terrifying to behold.

This gave Yousef and Friendly an opening and they sliced the remaining sectoids to pieces when their backs were turned. The shield on the mech dissipated and it quickly wilted under the combined fire of Patricia and Myra.

For some reason, the drones decided _now_ was the time to attack and began flying over. All of them were quickly blasted out of the sky by Galia and Sarah. Then the battlefield was silent.

“Stay ready,” Patricia warned, scanning the area, autolaser raised. “We still have outsiders to deal with.”

_“Unless none decided to show up?”_ Sarah said hopefully.

Yousef snorted into his helmet. _“If there is one thing that will show up with UFOs, it’s an outsider.”_

“Agreed,” Myra nodded, moving away from the window towards the door. “There’s always-“ She shouted in surprise as a crystalline hand burst through the wall, grabbed her by the armor and threw her towards the railing overlooking the main living room, showering plaster and drywall across the floor.

“Outsider inside!” Patricia shouted as she aimed her weapon at the outsider, trying not to hit Myra. “Converge!”

_“Can’t!”_ Yousef shouted. _“We’ve got another one out here!”_

The alien picked up a dazed Myra by her collar and with seemingly no effort, leapt towards the opposite wall on the ground and slammed her into it with a sickening crack. Patricia fired at it but it simply absorbed the blasts and lowered its hand to Myra’s right arm and fired a beam from it’s hand.

Myra screamed as the laser burned into her armor and flesh. The outsider reached down and tore the arm off, then threw the limb away. Firing several plasma bursts into her legs, he turned to face Patricia.

Fury filling her Patricia scowled and leapt off the railing to the lower floor, not even noticing the height. The objects around her trembled as she hit the ground, though if she noticed, not from the actual impact. The outsider seemed surprised by the move and took a step back.

Not quite quick enough as she unloaded her autolaser into the alien. It raised it’s hand to discharge some of the energy, but she kept pumping more into it. More lasers joined hers as Sarah and Galia reached her. The combined power proved too much for the outsider and it shattered into a thousand pieces.

They heard a scream and Patricia looked back to see Friendly frantically running away as the last outsider approached, holding the corpse of Yousef in it’s hand, a hole through his head. It immediately realized it was outnumbered and raised Yousef’s corpse as a shield as it fired more plasma rounds from it’s rifle.

“I’ll draw it’s fire!” She yelled, her voice sounding amplified, even to her. “Surround it!”

She winced as her fire grazed the body, but it couldn’t be helped. This outsider had to die. It would happen sooner or later and the outsider seemed to realize this. Dropping the body, it began glowing orange.

Patricia’s eye widened. “Get to cover!” She screamed, running behind a wall. “It’s going to blow!”

A few seconds later a piercing shriek filled the air and then silence. Waiting a few seconds, Patricia peeked out to see the room filled with outsider shards, turned into deadly projectiles by the explosion. Luckily, it seemed no one was hurt from them.

Yousef’s body was ruined but aside from that everyone was alive. Her eyes widened. “Sarah! Myra now!” Sarah dashed over to Myra who was miraculously still breathing as blood dripped out of the stump of her arm. It was fortunate the alien had simply decided putting her out of commission was enough and stopped short of killing her.

“Citadel Command we need an emergency evac now!” Patricia called. “We have a soldier in critical condition!”

_“Acknowledged, Fallen Sky will be touching down within the minute.”_

Patricia looked at the woman who had somehow survived as Sarah sprayed her with the med-kit, which would keep her alive until she returned to the Citadel. But unfortunately, it seemed her time as a soldier was over.

Patricia hoped that she wouldn’t end up going out like that. Better to die in battle than live as a cripple. She hoped the Commander would at least make sure she was comfortable. Actually, what he did didn’t matter. She’d see to it herself.

It was the least she could do.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: White Sun

_Personnel:_

Pacer 1 _(Squad Overseer)_ : Specialist Patricia Trask

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 3

Pacer 2: Specialist Myra Rodriguez

            **Status:** Gravely Wounded (Potential Medical Discharge)

            **Kills:** 1

Pacer 3: Specialist Glenn Friendlein

            **Status:** Active

            **Kills:** 2

Pacer 4: Specialist Yousef Li

            **Status:** Deceased

            **Kills:** 3

Pacer 5: Specialist Sarah Liber

            **Status:** Active

            **Kills:** 3

Pacer 6: Private Galia Loeb

            **Status:** Active

            **Kills:** 2

Pacer 6.5: “Aluma”

            **Status:** Active

            **Kills:** 2

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot: Tristin Ward: Call sign – “Fallen Sky”

 

_Artifacts Recovered:_

-4x Sectoid Corpses (Moderate Damage)

-4x Drone Wrecks (Moderate Damage)

-3x Alien Sectoid Mechanized Units (Moderate Damage)

-44x Alien Weapon Fragments

-111x Alien Alloys (Stripped From UFO)

-2x MELD Canisters

 

 

 

 

           

 

 

 

 


	9. Research and Engineering IV

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“An unfortunate ending to a rather successful mission,” the Commander commented grimly as he shut off the armor cams and switched back to the screen displaying the time Fallen Sky was due back at the Citadel. “We need to determine a more optimal strategy for UFO assaults.”

“What _was_ that?” Herman asked, eyes still on the screen. The representative had remained quiet throughout the entire mission, mostly letting them do their job. Though he appeared completely enraptured by what was taking place.

Van Doorn raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I thought so. Not everything, apparently,” Herman muttered. “An oversight, I assume.”

“An outsider,” the Commander answered. “Named for its resemblance to aliens seen in the Outsider Incursion. These ones are different, they’re seemingly composed of energy and…well, they’re not fully known **,** even to us.” His tone hardened as he appraised the screen. “And they are one of the more dangerous aliens, as you can see.”

“Indeed,” Herman sighed. “I suppose Specialist Rodriguez will have to be discharged after such an injury.”

“Very likely,” the Commander agreed. “I’m surprised she survived at all. But I’ll ensure she’ll be taken care of.”

“Artifact recovery is finishing up now,” Bradford informed, looking at his tablet. “They’ll be out of there soon.”

“Good,” Van Doorn answered, his lip twitching. “We don’t want any more surprise civilians.”

Herman raised an eyebrow. “I thought Specialist Trask handled that well.”

“She did,” the Commander nodded. “Though it was lucky she noticed before he shot. It would have ended badly otherwise.”

“Yes…” Herman’s tone turned deliberately neutral. “About that…Technically, allowing soldiers to fire on civilians isn’t exactly…how do I put this… _allowed.”_

The Commander turned his gaze to Herman. “I allow my soldiers to defend themselves. Are you seriously suggesting they should do nothing if fired upon?”

Herman clicked his tongue. “To be honest…if this was a regular military branch, no. But in this situation, I feel it could be resolved without resorting to fatal action,” He rested his hands on the table. “XCOM equipment is designed to handle weapons of military capability. That man posed no threat to any in that squad. He could have been subdued without harm.”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “He does have a point. Shen designed the original armor to withstand automatic fire.”

The Commander signed. Again, they were assuming the absolute best case scenario and not looking at the bigger picture. “In a perfect world, representative, I would agree that would be the best course of action. But the fact is, there are still issues with your solution.”

To his credit, Herman did look more curious than annoyed. “Explain?”

The Commander pressed several buttons and brought up the map of the area on the holotable. He pointed at the house where the civilian had been house. “The main issues are time and exposure. Look how close the house was to the UFO,” he pointed. “Doing it your way would greatly increase the likelihood that the aliens find us. An extended firefight is bound to make them apprehensive at the very least. Is it certain? Of course not, but removing the problem as quickly and efficiently as possible is the best way to ensure we aren’t detected.”

“Still, this isn’t a criminal we’re talking about,” Herman pointed out, resting his hands on the holotable. “That man was probably terrified and the sight of our soldiers probably didn’t help.”

“I’m sure he was,” the Commander sighed, looking down at the holotable. “So, do you think it would be worth the risk of blowing the mission to attain some sort of moral victory?”

“Perhaps not,” Herman admitted, his face grim. “But there needs to be some reevaluation on your civilian protocols. You’re not exactly… _considerate_ towards them.”

“Because I’m not,” the Commander stated, fixing him with a stern glare to emphasize his point. “Civilians have no place in war and I will not change or compromise anything to give them special treatment. If they interfere with our operations, they will be dealt with. It’s as simple as that.”

Herman sighed. “And I suppose that is your way of saying you are _not_ currently following the UN regulations regarding them?”

“Depends,” the Commander shrugged. “I’ve not looked at the regulations in years. Maybe, maybe not. I don’t fight a war on another’s rules.”

“Alright,” Herman sighed as he straightened up. “Consider this your chance to educate yourself about them. Next time I probably won’t find an excuse not to inform the Council.” He looked around. “I’ll leave you to it then, I have some other business to attend to.” With that he left the room.

“Commander,” Van Doorn finally said after he left. “Even if you don’t agree with the UN mandates, it might not be a bad idea to not flat out _say_ so. It’s not exactly… _helping_.”

The Commander’s lips curled into a smile. “An idle threat. The Council cannot prosecute or remove me for opinions I hold. Until I actually _do_ something that he witnesses that violates UN regulations, he has nothing to legitimately threaten me with.”

“I still am not sure it’s the best course of action.” Van Doorn cautioned. “Blatant disregard will not win him over.”

“If we’re going to disagree, I’d rather it be openly,” the Commander stated. “I’m not a politician and will not change my actual opinions to _potentially_ make the Council less antagonistic towards me.”

He didn’t add that Herman knew he was the Commander and anything he said would probably not be a surprise, lessening that supposed threat even more. The Council knew exactly how he felt about controversial matters, what he’d said wouldn’t change that. Not to mention that it wouldn’t change minds. Those set against him would hold that view until he died or he removed them.

“Besides,” he added. “This keeps Herman focused on the wrong things. Our operations that do violate the UN regulations are ones he’ll hopefully never learn about.”

“That is your prerogative, Commander,” Bradford said tactfully. “Though I do agree with Van Doorn here.”

“Noted,” the Commander answered, leaning on the holotable. “Alright. Now that the good representative has left us, we can discuss the current state of our alliances.”

“Right,” Bradford looked down at his tablet. “Funding is steady and the Council is still continuing to support us, although several countries have noticeably reduced their funding and several more have increased it, which is essentially balancing out.”

“China?” The Commander asked, frowning. That was the most obvious, though he was curious as to the others.

“Yes,” Bradford confirmed. “Along with Canada and the United Kingdom.”

“I would suspect that the UK didn’t approve of our attempt to bar the Chinese from the wreckage,” Van Doorn commented thoughtfully. “They heavily support the UN, so this would seem an unfair circumvention.”

The Commander snorted dismissively. “I would say a loophole. There was nothing illegal about it.”

“Except that you opened the door to a genuine contest,” Bradford pointed out. “While XCOM might not have had any chance, the amount of countries involved will ensure it will be months before the issue is settled legally. I’d say that they don’t like you exploiting the system.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander acknowledged. “Though if something this supposedly undisputed takes months to resolve, I’d say that’s more of a problem with the system than me.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t an easy, streamlined system,” Van Doorn sighed. “Throw in different countries and it only gets more complicated.”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “It’s perfectly possible to create a more streamlined system that focuses on accuracy and efficiency. The issue is that too many people don’t want that and the average citizen doesn’t care enough to act.”

“An issue for another time,” Bradford interrupted. “The good news is that Russia has substantially increased their funding to us. Japan as well.”

Well that was interesting. Not Russia; of all the countries, they were emerging as one of the most reliable. No, Japan was the interesting one. Hmm…”Japan huh. Interesting.”

“Indeed,” Van Doorn mused. “While your move might have concerned the UK, it seems it might have had the opposite effect on Japan.”

“Interesting that they’re willing to risk China’s anger,” the Commander continued, looking down at the map of the world. “An increase in funding exactly when China decreases? That’s as close to outright disagreement as they usually get.”

Bradford rubbed his chin. “That it is. They usually play nice with the Chinese.”

“Everyone plays nice with the Chinese,” the Commander corrected, eyes sparkling with interest. “Mostly because they don’t want to risk their economy. So for Japan to do this is…encouraging.”

“So how should we take advantage of it?” Van Doorn wondered. “Japan is taking a risk here and it might not be a bad idea to reward that.”

“How?” The Commander asked, looking over at him. “If you’re suggesting allowing them access to some of the alien tech, I don’t think so. Even if their friendliness with China has diminished, they’re still too close, not to mention it would bring on an onslaught of requests for the rest of the Council nations to increase the amount of alien tech they get.”

“Requests that would be justified.” Bradford pointed out.

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. “They would be, much as I hate to admit it. Aside from which, if we send unaltered tech to another nation, the Council might figure out we’ve been giving them doctored tech.”

“Which would not be good.” Van Doorn finished, face turning grimmer. “Which means we can essentially do nothing practical for them.”

The Commander paused. There actually was a way they could open a full alliance with Japan _without_ worrying about the Council’s response. The only problem was…well, the method itself. The Council was going to dissolve eventually, it was inevitable, especially with him in charge and its usefulness was coming to an end.

Perhaps now it was time to begin removing the Council from the equation. He’d held off discussing it since he wasn’t convinced it was the right time, but this opened the door to convincing Bradford and Van Doorn that the Council had served its purpose. This wasn’t a final decision, the rest of the Internal Council would have to be here as well, but Bradford and Van Doorn were key. Shen might be able to be convinced, but it would be more difficult. Zhang would support him as would Vahlen. So that meant that Bradford and Van Doorn were the swing votes, more or less.

“There is a way we could open an alliance without risking the Council,” the Commander finally said. “There is only one problem.”

“Which is?” Bradford asked curiously.

“Japan would have to leave the Council.”

Van Doorn blinked, his tone heavy with surprise. “That’s…that’s _very_ risky.”

“But that might actually work,” Bradford murmured, clearly not quite sure how to feel. “We would have no additional obligation to provide additional resources to the Council…”

“And gain the support of Japan,” The Commander finished, trying not to sound too pleased.

Van Doorn whistled. “True. Still…A nation leaving the Council wouldn’t exactly reflect well on XCOM.”

“Not necessarily,” the Commander corrected thoughtfully. “There’s nothing that states a Council Nation can _only_ leave if they’re displeased with XCOM. True, that’s the most _likely_ reason, but it’s not the _only_ one.”

“So theoretically,” Bradford followed with a nod. “Japan can cite any reason for leaving.”

“Theoretically,” the Commander emphasized. “Realistically, there aren’t many plausible options. Aside from that, it might look suspicious if we immediately opened an alliance with them after they left.”

“There is another concern,” Van Doorn stated, his face grave. “This would open the door for other nations to follow suit, especially if we theoretically opened an alliance with Japan if they left. Some nations might consider it an opportunity to gain access to alien tech and follow suit. If enough nations leave…”

“It could lead to the dissolution of the Council **,** ” Bradford finished quietly.

 _Exactly_. The Commander thought, hiding the smile he was feeling. He’d wondered for a while how best to remove the Council and out of all the options, this was the one he felt would have the best outcome. There was some justice and irony in the fact that the fall of the Council would be brought about by themselves.

And then all of them would be reliant on XCOM if they wished continued access to alien tech. And he’d be free of the United Nations once and for all.

Still, a bit early to celebrate. “We’d have to consider that _very_ carefully,” he finally said, keeping a moderate tone. “If it leads to the end of the Council…again, we’d have to plan _very_ well.”

“I’m not sure we should risk it,” Van Doorn said. “In the theoretical event that we are even interested in this, I’m not sure losing the Council is worth it.”

“Though that wouldn’t necessarily be the end of XCOM,” Bradford pointed out. “I’d expect that we’d still retain support, even if the Council were to disband.”

 _Thank you Bradford_. “Though even then I’m not sure it’d be enough,” the Commander warned, keeping his tone neutral. Let _them_ be the ones to convince him. “We run the risk of the countries focusing on their own military instead of XCOM.”

“Which means we’d need to gather additional allies to keep the same level,” Van Doorn advised. “Something we really should do anyway.”

And that was a perfect breaking point from this topic. Let them think about that, the seed had been planted and something like this would remain at the back of their minds for a while. “I think the rest of the Internal Council should be here before we continue discussing this particular topic,” the Commander said. “However, I do believe gathering more allies is important. Let’s move to that.”

“Agreed,” Bradford nodded. “This should be discussed with everyone.”

“A good idea,” Van Doorn concluded. “Now, I do think there are some additional allies we could look into.”

“Ok,” the Commander nodded at Van Doorn and gestured at the map. “Go ahead.”

“There are several South American nations we could court,” Van Doorn pointed. “Nothing near the firepower of Russia or China, but combined their funding could equal a major country. Colombia, Peru and Chile are the three biggest ones.”

“We’d have to see how much that would cut into our stockpiles,” the Commander noted. “Three smaller countries instead of a larger one…it might be worth it.”

“You would hold most of the negotiating power,” Van Doorn reminded him. “These aren’t exactly world players; generally, they’re ignored most of the time. Quite a few would consider the Commander of XCOM taking an interest in them as an honor.”

Hmm. That had merit and since it was unlikely they would have much contact with the Council, there was no reason for them to know exactly what he gave Israel and Germany. They would make do with what they got. Furthermore, the more countries allied with XCOM, the better.

He nodded. “A good idea,” he looked over at Bradford. “Could you look into setting up meetings?”

Bradford gave an encouraging smile. “Certainly, Commander.”

“Do you have a suggestion of your own?” The Commander asked.

Bradford hesitated. “I think we should consider accepting South Korea as an ally.”

He held back a wince. That was a good idea in principle but…”That might backfire.” The Commander answered slowly. “Not only would that antagonize North Korea…”

“But China might object as well,” Van Doorn finished, coming to the same conclusion as the Commander. “They might use that as an excuse to either leave the Council or force restrictions on us.”

“But South Korea would be a powerful ally,” Bradford reminded him. “Not to mention the President wants to eliminate the aliens as much as us.”

“Untrue,” the Commander stated. “Even if he says so, the first priority will be North Korea. I have no doubt that any deal we make will involve us supporting their war against their neighbor.”

“Which we wouldn’t be able to do,” Van Doorn pointed out, glancing down at the map. “As much as it may seem, we are not a political entity. We have no business getting involved in their war.”

The Commander frowned. “Officially. But seeing as how we ensured Germany remained an ally, I wouldn’t dismiss us becoming involved if the situation demands it.”

“Except that the only two options were alien rule or human,” Van Doorn pointed out. “This is a strictly human conflict.”

“With an objectively right side,” Bradford added. “The continuing war benefits no one.”

“Technically subjective,” the Commander amended. “Though I agree. But I agree with Van Doorn at the moment. South Korea is too risky an ally right now. If we secure additionally funding or North Korea invades…then it’ll be considered.”

Bradford sighed. “You’d think that an alien invasion would cause people to focus on the bigger picture instead of continuing their feuds.”

The Commander shrugged. “It’s human nature. Both nations have been mostly unaffected and even if they were…they’re not going to stop because the other might take advantage. So the cycle continues.”

“So it does,” Van Doorn sighed. “Anything to add, Commander?”

“Actually yes,” the Commander focused the map. “Turkey.”

Bradford frowned. “Why there?”

“Several reasons,” the Commander explained. “They’re a moderately sized country and would be able to provide us with a decent amount of additional funding. Aside from that, their military is rather powerful and well-organized.”

“They are one of the main contributors to NATO in terms of military power,” Van Doorn nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Good idea. They would make excellent allies.”

“Should I look into making arrangements?” Bradford asked, looking up from his tablet.

“Do it,” the Commander ordered. “The sooner we extend our reach, the better.”

“Will do,” Bradford confirmed. “I suppose I should get to work now.”

“We all should,” the Commander agreed. “I have to speak with Vahlen and Shen. Zhang is also planning a major intelligence operation.”

“I’ll help Bradford set up the meetings,” Van Doorn said. “My contacts in NATO should ensure we at least speak with Turkey.”

“Excellent,” the Commander saluted them. “Dismissed.” They returned his salute and he walked out the room.

***

_The Citadel_

Yep, he was still the Commander all right. Herman was somewhat surprised the man was so… _blunt_ , but then again, their introduction had implied as much. He could respect that; in fact, it made his job easier. The Commander knew this, so it was still odd for him to still speak openly about his opinions when he was around. Most people would put up and illusion of cooperation; but not him.

Well, if he wanted to call his bluff, he was certainly welcome.

In the meantime, it was time to get more familiar with the Citadel. The Research Labs would be a good place to start, he was personally curious what exactly was being developed there. Dr. Vahlen was also a person of interest as well. He didn’t know _that_ much about the woman, but what he’d heard was…concerning.

She appeared to be one of the types that would only go as far as allowed. Restrictions and rules could be worked with but given little supervision and accountability…they were perfectly willing to go far beyond what was considered normal or safe. Vahlen had been classified as such an individual and he suspected the Commander hadn’t bothered placing any ground rules.

Vahlen was likely one of the smartest people in the world, she wouldn’t have been chosen for XCOM if it were otherwise. But he wasn’t entirely sure she was the _right_ person chosen, especially with the Commander in charge. Left unchecked she could create something that might breed even more trouble.

He felt the air noticeably change as he approached the research labs. Cleanliness and sterility slowly took over his senses, like a hospital, only far more potent. Well, he certainly wasn’t complaining, the smell had never bothered him and told him that XCOM was good about keeping cleanliness standards.

The glass doors slid open noiselessly as he walked inside and shut behind him just a quietly. He looked around enviously at the rows of advanced technology. If only NATO was so advanced, they could do so much more. But he understood why it wasn’t possible; this room alone probably cost billions of dollars.

A green pod against the wall caught his attention and he walked over, moving past several working scientists as he approached it. What was inside startled him. One of the sectoids stared back at him, the solid, unblinking golden orbs that were eyes making him uneasy.

Suspended in the green liquid, he wasn’t sure if it was alive or dead. There were no wounds he could see, but he wasn’t quite sure how it was surviving without any tubes or life support.

“Can I help you?” An accented voice asked.

He turned to see a woman in an advanced sealed white hazard suit minus the helm. She’d clearly been working on something messy judging by the brown and yellow liquid splattering the chest. Her gloves were also covered in the stuff. The woman herself had darker blonde hair neatly tied up that framed a stern and unblemished face.

Her eyes though were…unsettling. There was a detached manner to them as she observed him, like he was a specimen she was curious to dissect. Regardless, the description matched what he’d expected.

“Are you Dr. Vahlen?” He asked, inclining his head.

“I am,” she confirmed with a small nod. “I also presume you are Representative Diederick?”

“Herman will do fine,” he amended. “I figured it would be a good idea to learn about the research advances at XCOM.”

“I suppose you’d like a tour?” She asked, cocking her head at him. “The lab is small, but I could improvise.”

“Unnecessary,” Herman shook his head. “I can look around myself. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt…” he eyed her dirty suit. “Whatever you’re doing.”

She actually almost smiled at that. With a glint in her eye, she motioned him over with a soiled glove. “None needed, Representative. In fact, you’ll gain a better idea of what we’re working towards if I show you.”

He complied and followed her through the lab where the scientists in regular lab coats and attire worked. Unfortunate that chemistry and science in general hadn’t been a strength of his since it would help if he knew exactly what all this stuff did and what the arrays of formulas and markings actually meant.

They finally arrived at a sealed room with containing a table with one of the aliens splayed out with a harsh white floodlight fully illuminating the body. It was extremely muscular, with pink skin and was much taller than he was. Probably at least seven or eight feet. It had four large fingers and toes and an extremely bony and thick skull. Curiously, it looked like something had been removed from it’s mouth, judging from the cuts and tears.

“Should I be in here?” Herman asked, looking at the biohazard sign in front of the door. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate anything.” _Or get some alien illness myself._

“Stand back and you’ll be fine,” Vahlen advised as she placed the suit helm over her head again. Unlike similar suits, this one’s helm had more in common with a riot helmet than a biohazard suit. It had a fixed curved glass shield over most of the face and the helm itself was white and hard.

Rather heavy-duty if he was being honest. She picked up a knife and observed the alien. Looking closer, Herman saw that she’d been cutting into it’s chest. It was fortunate that he wasn’t perturbed by the amount of blood and gore splattered around otherwise there’d have been…issues.

“This is a muton, correct?” He asked, looking to make sure he was right. It matched the images he’d seen, though without the armor.

“Correct,” Vahlen confirmed as she began cutting. “An extraordinary specimen at that. This will likely be the last one before our autopsy can be considered complete.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How many have you done?”

“At this point…” she paused, looked up, then returned to cutting. “Probably eight. We lost a significant amount of data at one point and much had to be recreated.” More blood gushed out as she continued cutting deeper. “This is mostly to gain samples, since we’ve mapped out all the vital organs and skeleton.”

Samples. Interesting. “Why do you need them?” He asked, looking at the creature curiously. “Creating some weapon to counter them?”

“Potentially,” Vahlen explained, sounding more excited than before. “This alien species is almost perfectly designed for combat. Physically strong, conditioned, intelligent, and is extraordinarily difficult to kill.”

She motioned at the skin with a gore-encrusted hand. “Their skin is resistant to sharp objects and acidic substances. I’ve broken several tools before I found the right blade. We’ve taken enough skin samples though,” her knife flicked up yellow blood as she cut deeper. “I’m more interested in it’s heart.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Simply put, because it’s not the only one,” she explained without looking up. “It has another; a backup of sorts. Another reason it’s difficult to kill. I need to know how it works and to do so, I have to extract both hearts.”

Huh. She said it so casually, like removing organs was something she normally did. Although in this case it probably was. Still, it was new for him. “What are you going to do once you extract it?”

“Simulate it working,” she answered enthusiastically. “It’ll be difficult, but if I can restart the heart, I’ll learn so much about how it works.”

He shivered, as the mental image of a heart encased in a glass tube pumping blood struck him as extremely disturbing. But as interesting as it seemed to her, he didn’t see much practical purpose. “How is this useful information, exactly?”

She paused and looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious? To be the first to recreate the beating heart of a _genus_ _platomituos_ would be an achievement rivaling that of the _Urgandu_ experiment. Not to mention it might prove Austin’s theory of cell formation and   _transmutatione sanguinis_ correct! Furthermore this could remaster the Neuroparasitology field as we know it!” She eyed him suspiciously. “You _do_ know what that is, right?”

Well, that outburst he hadn’t expected. He had no clue what any of that was and wasn’t sure he should be surprised or flattered that she apparently believed he might. “I’m afraid not,” he answered shaking his head. “Those terms I’m unfamiliar with.”

“Simply put, it will make future research easier,” Vahlen answered, returning to the autopsy. “That tablet might tell you more.”

Herman walked over and picked up the tabled with lists of formulas and sentences of English mixed with German. The English didn’t make much sense since every other word was German and what he could make out either was a generic word or referred to some concept beyond him. Did she actually expect him to know what this meant?

Perhaps it wasn’t completely her fault. She might just be not used to interacting with people who weren’t as intelligent as her. A trait he’d seen before in scientists. Still, he wondered how the Commander dealt with it, provided she treated him the same way. “I appreciate the offer,” he told her, setting the tablet down. “But I really can’t…”

He trailed off as Vahlen was now wrist deep in the alien’s chest. Her eyes blazing with intensity, focusing directly on her work, Herman watched in fascination as she lifted the two hearts out of the chest, both oozing yellow blood from the severed arteries. The hearts _were_ connected, though it didn’t appear by much, just a couple veins and valves.

Vahlen delicately placed the hearts into a small glass jar and Herman heard a quiet hiss and it sealed. Looking very pleased with herself, Vahlen looked up, a lot more at ease now. “Sorry, did you say something?”

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

She stripped off her gloves and removed her helm. “Excellent. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Yes,” he nodded his head back towards where they’d come. “That sectoid. I assume you’re using it for something?”

Her face lit up. “Yes,” she answered as she began removing the hazard suit. “That is my other project. I should begin the testing very soon.”

“And what is this project?” He asked wearily, tired of how she appeared to miss the point of the question.

“A curiosity of the sectoids is that each of them is a perfect genetic copy,” she explained as she threw the soiled suit into a container. “A clone if that term is easier. This presents us with an opportunity to strike a devastating blow against-“

He raised a hand. “ _How_?”

She looked a bit miffed, but just shrugged. “It’s simple. A targeted virus that will kill the sectoid species.”

He blinked. A bioweapon was not what he’d expected, even though he probably should have. They were banned under United Nations convention, but he was fairly certain that regulations hadn’t exactly been a concern when the Commander approved this. And the Commander _had_ to know about this, else he was incompetent at his job. And Herman was certain that whatever the Commander was, _incompetent_ was not one of them.

Still…there was a debate to be had about whether UN conventions applied to aliens. So technically there was a loophole that _might_ be able to be used if he brought it to the Council. Hmm. He needed to know more about this virus first. “How does the virus work?”

She paused. “Since the virus is specifically targeted towards the sectoid genome, I’ve engineered it to be transmittable in every way possible.”

“Isn’t that risky?” He demanded, trying not to be too alarmed.

“What? No!” She emphasized. “There is no risk to humans, or any other alien species for that matter. Only sectoids will be affected.”

“And how exactly do you foresee this being used?” He asked, thinking of possible scenarios.

“The usage of this virus will have several useful outcomes,” Vahlen began, ticking the reasons off her fingers. “The most obvious is the removal of one of the more troublesome species. This will also put the aliens on the defensive as they try to figure out what’s happening to the sectoids.” Her lips curled up. “But what I am personally curious about is the damage to morale. It will be fascinating to watch the aliens deal with hundreds of sectoids dying in agony all around them, helpless to stop it. That would crush the morale of any human army, I wonder if the aliens will react similarly.”

Herman swallowed. “And just…how does the virus kill the sectoid?”

“The final version will have an incubation period of about a month,” Vahlen explained cheerfully. “Enough time to the virus to spread through most of the population. For the testing, I’m simply observing the effects once the virus starts. Is essence, I’ve designed it to…disassemble them genetically, for lack of a better word,” she paused, looking up. “It’s sort of like breaking a chemical bond; reducing the alien down to it’s base components. I’m imagining the effect is similar to an ice cream cone melting. Eventually the sectoid will be reduced to mush,” she shrugged. “That’s the hope anyway. I’m estimating the effect lasting roughly three weeks. Though again, that’s just an estimate.”

Herman stared in shock. He personally wasn’t against using a virus like that; the tactical advantages were clear. But…the method went far beyond cruel and unusual. Slowly reducing _anything_ to mush over a period of weeks was incredibly hard to justify especially if the victims were sentient. It was inhumane, even when dealing with aliens.

He scowled. The Council would have to learn of this…but he wasn’t sure how best to change anything without immediately becoming the bad guy. The issue was that this was alien and not human related, so shutting down or changing a project like this would run the risk of painting him, and by extension the Council, as alien sympathizers. Given that the soldiers had seen their friends die to these aliens, he imagined they would easily wish a painful death upon them, even if the method was wrong.

“Do you believe that’s necessary?” He asked Vahlen. “Wouldn’t it just be simpler to have the virus kill them quickly?”

“Of course!” She answered easily. “But half the benefit of this virus is the psychological factor. Even if the alien forces are emotionless automatons, their leaders aren’t and this might force them to face their own mortality. Not to mention it will be useful for recruitment and propaganda. I’d imagine it’d encourage humanity once they saw the aliens literally melting before them,” she raised a finger. “Finally, this will benefit XCOM as it will show the rest of the world, including the Council, that we are capable of fully repelling this attack. Once we eradicate one alien species, we will move on to the next.”

She spoke of genocide so easily. No wonder the Commander kept her around, she had no qualms about anything she did. He wondered how much the Commander had influenced her and how much of this mindset she’d always had. But while he saw it as a genocide, he couldn’t entirely disagree with causing it.

How screwed up was it when he was genuinely considering letting a weapon that would kill a species pass without question. He swallowed. “I see…thank you, Dr. Vahlen.”

She gave a smile, her previous coldness apparently forgotten. “Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He quickly exited the research labs and made for his quarters. Once he arrived, he sat on the bed, mulling over what he knew and what should be done. He laid back on the bed, thinking furiously. Shutting down the project was out of the question; the tactical arguments were too strong and he, and the Council, risked being labeled as pro-alien. A label that would call into question the Council’s motives every time they wanted something done.

And that would give the Commander a very plausible and justified reason to refuse and cause more division. Not to mention he’d likely be able to do it with the full support of XCOM, further loosening the Council’s influence. No, too risky to cite UN conventions. A compromise was in order.

He nodded to himself. He’d hold off contacting the Council at the moment. He would have to speak to the Commander to see if they could come to an arrangement of some kind. In fact, he had an argument the Commander might even listen to.

***

_The Citadel, Engineering Bay_

It was impressive how quickly Shen’s engineers worked. Just in the past few weeks they’d added many additional areas throughout the Citadel. Shen and Vahlen had both requested areas specifically for studying and applying the MELD substance and he knew that both of them had been focusing on how best to use it.

He’d given them time to come up with some ideas. Now he was extremely curious to see what they’d been up to. The engineers were working hard in the main area, and the sounds of conveyor belts, power tools and mechanized equipment was as loud as ever. He paused, looking around for Shen.

After about a half-minute of looking, he still didn’t see him in the fairly open area. Well, instead of wasting his time looking around it would be better to just ask someone. He approached one of the engineers that appeared to be welding some kind of…armor? It honestly looked rather hand-made, not like the rest of XCOM equipment. Probably a prototype of some kind.

The woman herself also seemed much smaller than normal, more like a teenager than an adult. He tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me?”

She paused and looked back and started. “Oh! Commander!” Her voice was much higher pitched and when she took off the welding mask he saw that his first impression hadn’t really been wrong. She was a teenager, probably no older than fifteen. She quickly set the welding torch down and dusted herself off, looking up nervously.

He raised an eyebrow. “I am the Commander, yes. And you are?”

“Lily Shen,” she answered, some confidence returning to her voice. Ah, right, he wondered when Shen’s daughter would arrive. He gave her a smile, hoping to put her more at ease.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Shen,” he greeted, extending a hand. “I’m glad you arrived safely.”

“Thanks,” she blushed, taking his hand. “I didn’t think I’d actually meet you.”

“Oh I would have come by eventually,” he chuckled. “If only to see if you’re as talented as your father.”

“Oh God,” she blushed again. “I’m nowhere near him. One day maybe, but I’m not my father yet.”

He looked over at her project. “Maybe, but it looks like it hasn’t deterred you from projects of your own.”

“Well, it’s the only way I get better,” Lily shrugged, moving back over to her project. “Even if I can’t use the major equipment, I still have ideas I want to try.”

“Admirable,” he nodded in approval. “So what’s this?”

“You know Galia?” Lily asked, pulling on a strand of her short black hair.

“I do,” he answered, inclining his head. “In fact, she just returned from a mission?”

“Is Aluma alright?” Lily asked, her face filling with concern.

Ah, he had an idea what she was doing now. “Aluma is fine,” he reassured her. “She was very helpful as well.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed in relief. “I’d hate for something to happen to that sweet puppy.” The Commander almost chuckled as he remembered that “sweet puppy” rip out the throats of several sectoids. Lily gestured at the armor. “Anyway, this is sort of my attempt at keeping her safe. That padding she wears isn’t going to protect her if she gets shot. It’s not fair that everyone except her gets special armor.”

“Well, we haven’t had canine soldiers before,” the Commander pointed out ruefully. “Aside from which, it would cost us additional resources to create a special suit for one dog.”

“Right,” Lily agreed with a sharp nod. “That’s why I’m trying to make a set.” She glanced back at the armor. “ _Trying_ being the key word.”

“It’s not a bad start,” the Commander complimented. “Although a bit crude.”

“Only because I’m doing it all by hand; look at this,” Lily motioned him over to another table and pulled out a rolled up blueprint. “I’ve already designed it a precisely as possible,” she explained as she rolled it out. “But humans just aren’t as precise as machines.”

The Commander looked over, eyebrows raising in surprise. The document looked _very_ well done. He wasn’t exactly an expert on engineering work, but based on other blueprints and designs he’d seen, this one could fit in seamlessly. “This looks excellent,” he stated complementary, looking over at her. “Why are you not using the machines?”

“Father forbade me,” she sighed. “He didn’t want me interfering or using XCOM resources without express permission. I get it, but it’s annoying.”

“Hmm.” He looked over at her. “I assume this isn’t the only project idea you have?”

“Oh no!” She exclaimed. “Just one of the easiest. I’ve got a _lot_ more ideas up here.” She tapped her head. “I can show you if you want!”

He was genuinely curious as to what she had. But he _did_ have to speak with Shen. Still, he wasn’t going to leave her with nothing. “Not at the moment,” he apologized. “I came to speak with your father. But you’re clearly an intelligent woman and XCOM needs as many like you as possible. You’re cleared to use whatever equipment you need. If anyone gives you trouble, direct them to me.”

Her face lit up. “You’re serious?!”

He nodded firmly. “I am. But your father does have a point about resources. I’ll trust your judgement for now, don’t abuse it.”

“I won’t,” she promised vigorously. “You won’t regret this. Give me some time and you’ll be _amazed_ with what I can come up with.”

The Commander smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’ll hold you to that. I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I came by every so often?”

“Of course not!” She exclaimed.

“Good, now do you know where your father is?”

She pointed to a door that appeared to have been recently installed. “In the Cybernetics Lab. He’s been spending a lot of time there.”

“Thank you, Lily,” he told her. “Good luck with your projects.”

She beamed and waved goodbye as he walked away. Allowing Lily to stay might turn out to actually benefit him. Shen hadn’t mentioned her engineering skills, though it might have just been he was more concerned with her safety than what she could offer. Well, she seemed a determined woman; it would be interesting to see what she did.

The circular door slid open and revealed a large open room with three of what appeared to be construction sites of some kind, all with robotic assembly arms. At both ends were engineers working on what looked like prosthetics and outlines for suits.

Shen was at the far end, looking over blueprints on a workbench. He looked up as the Commander approached. He nodded respectfully. “Commander, I’m glad you’ve come.”

“As am I,” he answered. “I had an excellent conversation with your daughter. You should be proud.”

“I am,” he answered fondly, a smile on his face. “She’s turning into a remarkable young woman.”

“I’m fairly certain she’s smarter than me,” the Commander said. “Just so you know, I’ve authorized her using whatever she needs. She has some useful ideas and it’d be a waste to exclude her.”

“I appreciate it,” Shen thanked. “I did consider it, but wasn’t sure you’d feel comfortable allowing a minor using our equipment.”

The Commander snorted. “As long as she’s competent and doesn’t abuse my trust, I could care less about her age.” He eyed the blueprints. “Now, what exactly have you been working on?”

Shen adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “There are several topics to discuss. The MELD substance had completely changed the field of cybernetics forever. I suppose I’ll start with the first developments.”

Shen reached over and pulled over a prosthetic arm. It was silver and clearly metal, but it wasn’t a bad recreation. “With MELD, we can finally create a prosthetic that can fully replicate a body part _without_ fear of the body rejecting it. Our prosthetics will soon be indistinguishable from the real thing if progress continues.”

“You might have your first patient soon,” the Commander said grimly. “I suppose you’ve heard of Myra’s condition.”

“I did,” he nodded gravely. “And I’ll do my best to help her if she wants it.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “What next.”

“For more practical combat operations, I have several ideas,” Shen continued, walking over to what appeared to be the skeleton of a suit of armor. “This is what we’re calling an Exoskeleton suit, or EXO-suit. Once finished, it will augment a soldier’s strength durability especially once armored.”

“Sounds good,” the Commander appraised the suit. “I assume there’s a drawback.”

“Yes,” Shen sighed. “It’s very slow and that makes the one wearing it vulnerable. A soldier would be severely hampered while using it. This can be mitigated by increasing the armor and weaponry available, but that might not be enough.”

“Hmm,” the Commander rested his chin on his hand. “Is there any way around this?”

“Yes,” Shen hesitated. “But…well, I’ll get to that. One way is direct neural interfacing.” Shen motioned to spikes and holes in the armor where there might be tubes. “Soldiers using these suits will have to be wearing implants to even move at a reasonable speed. But the same issue is that there is too much biological interference. For a suit like this to truly be effective, it must be _part_ of the soldier and not simply a suit of armor.”

The Commander frowned. “How would that be possible?”

“Hold that thought,” Shen held up a hand. “One way the EXO-suit could be reworked is as an augment to the armor we already have. It would slow the soldiers down a bit more, but not if we decided to leave it mostly as-is.”

“So it would be the skeletal frame overlaying the armor?” The Commander asked.

“Essentially,” Shen answered with a nod. “This would allow us to mount heavier weapons on them or add a small additional layer of protection.”

“Refine it a bit and I think it’ll be useful,” the Commander nodded. “I’ll trust your judgment on where you want to take this project.” He looked Shen in the eye. “Now, tell me what else you’ve done.”

Shen hesitated. “As I said, there _is_ a way we can overcome the neurological issues of a fully armored suit.” Shen motioned him over a bit and showed the Commander a massive suit. Ah, he remembered noting it on the way in. He’d taken it as some kind of robot, but he now noticed it was missing its head.

The suit stood about ten or eleven feet high and appeared to be a robotic recreation of a humanoid. Its chest was open and there seemed to be a space a normal sized human could enter. But the insides were filled with gears, wires and quite simply, didn’t look remotely safe.

“Impressive,” he commented. “I presume that this could be used by our soldiers. But I’m not sure this is going to be much faster than an EXO-suit. Aside from that…using it looks dangerous.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Shen explained. “This is what we’re calling Mechanized Exoskeletal Cybersuit. Or just a MEC.”

The Commander sighed. “So what’s the issue?”

“The way to overcome the neurological limitations is simple,” Shen paused and grimaced. “We remove the limbs of the pilots, rebuild the existing skeleton and fill the torso and brain with cybernetic implants. The result will be a pilot that will be able to…merge…with the MEC suit, for lack of a better word. They will become _part_ of the suit. Or the suit will become part of _them._ ”

The Commander blinked as he looked at the robotic behemoth **.** He was impressed Shen had even considered this as a viable possibility. He’d have thought Shen would have issues with something like this. “The process to convert the soldiers **…** ” he said slowly. “Could it be done safely?”

Shen grimaced. “Yes. With MELD, augmentations of this scale is possible and safe. But…I’m not sure the soldier would be the same afterwards. Losing that much of your body would be traumatic, even with functional limbs.”

“How much of the brain would be modified?” The Commander asked, appraising the MEC.

“For this to work properly, the brain would have to be made to…” Shen scowled. “I hate using _rely_ , but it fits best. Rely on the MEC suit to be _whole_. It’s the cost of allowing the suit to be used as fluidly as our limbs are now. As a result, the soldier might become…muddled outside the suit. They’ll be lucid, but not completely there mentally.”

“Could that be alleviated?” the Commander asked, as he thought.

“Eventually, perhaps,” Shen admitted. “But it’s either-or now. We can’t have both. An effective soldier or an effective MEC.”

The Commander was silent for a few minutes. “This could be a major asset to our combat operations…but I don’t think this is something that should be mandated. I feel the benefits are too great to ignore, but I want this program volunteer only.”

Shen sighed in relief. “My sentiments exactly. Even then…” he shook his head. “We need to make sure they know exactly what they’re doing. I doubt they’d be the same as before.”

“Perhaps Myra isn’t out of XCOM yet,” the Commander muttered. “I’ll have to speak with her.”

“That would be her prerogative,” Shen agreed. “And if she decides against it, I’ll prepare for regular prosthetic additions.”

“A sound plan,” the Commander agreed. “Continue work on the EXO-suits and MEC projects. I’ll speak with you soon. Excellent work.”

Shen inclined his head. “Thank you, Commander.”

The Commander saluted him and walked out of the cybernetics lab, the implications of the MEC program weighing down on him.

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

Soran slowed the treadmill down until he was at walking speed. Interesting that even the most basic training equipment was so…computerized. There were more buttons than he really felt were useful not to mention it made it difficult to figure out where the necessary ones were.

Finally, he just stopped and let the treadmill carry him to the edge and he elegantly leapt down to the floor. He took a sip of water and sat down, not really winded. Physical activities had never been challenging for Soran, probably why he’d been selected for Japan’s most physically demanding unit.

Looking around, he saw a few more soldiers working at various stations or lifting weights. Something flashed by one of the opposite walls and he cocked his head, trying to get a better look. He focused across the room and raised his eyebrow in interest when he saw who it was.

Wearing black XCOM fatigues, Carmelita was doing some sort of knife training; where she slashed and cut at dummy targets. Setting the bottle down, he stood and began walking over. Perhaps this was an opportunity to talk to her, once she was finished of course.

The machine she was training with was more sophisticated as he approached. At apparently random intervals, new mechanical arms holding targets swung out and she responded by slashing with fatal efficiency. Her blades were coated with a red substance, so he could see where she was hitting. Not all the targets were human, either; he saw several sectoid and muton targets, armored and everything.

He paused a few yards away from her, not wanting to get too close. Upon watching her style further, she was very coordinated and precise. Cold would be a better term, detached and mechanical. Somewhat different that the impression she had given. At least it reaffirmed his feeling she was dangerous.

Still he was curious. He wasn’t convinced she’d always been this way and based on some comments she’d made, something had happened that had changed her. He was more interested in what that was.

She finally stopped and lowered her arms, breathing heavily. “Impressive,” he told her after a few second. “Your coordination is superb.”

She glanced over, not seeming too surprised he was there. “Appreciated,” she answered as she placed her blades on a tray and began cleaning the red substance off them with a cloth.

“I’m curious,” he said, leaning against a wall. “How long did it take to learn that?”

“Years,” she answered wearily. “But I had a good teacher.”

“You are part of the South Korea military, correct?” He asked.

“Yeah, part of it was with the 707th, the rest was on multiple black ops units,” she answered neutrally. “So you can imagine the training I got.”

He’d never heard of the 707th, but assumed it was a highly skilled unit. “Ah,” he recalled in understanding. “I suppose you were one of the ones causing North Korea trouble.”

She glared at him as she cleaned her blades. “You could say that. I presume that isn’t an issue.” Even if it was, her tone of voice made it clear she would take issue.

“No,” he answered with a dismissive wave. “I don’t have a stance on that issue. We’re all together now, holding national grudges is pointless.”

“Hmm.” She looked away and finished cleaning his blades. “Soran, right?” She asked, looking up at him, the light illuminating the scar on her cheek.

“Right,” he confirmed. “One of the newer recruits. We were on that South Korea mission.”

“Yes, I remember,” she recalled, sheathing her blades. “You did well.”

“Thank you,” he answered, inclining his head. “You were…efficient as well.”

“I should hope so,” she answered coldly. “My sole purpose is killing these creatures now.”

He paused before continuing. “You really hate them, don’t you? And not in the normal _friend vs enemy_ way.”

To his surprise, she didn’t seem to take offense or react much in any way. “An interesting question, Soran. What prompted that?”

“It’s just…” he paused. “It seems more personal to you.”

“ _Personal_ ,” she mused, her tone neutral though danger underlined it. “Yes, you could say that **.** ” He noticed her right hand gripped the blade strapped to her chest. “I could name several instances where it became _personal_. Perhaps the bombardment of Hamburg or that massacre of civilians that followed. Perhaps the fact that our people are abducted by the thousands for whatever experiments the aliens are conducting.”

He got that reasoning about the abductions, he agreed with it…but at the same time it _was_ a little hypocritical. Especially since XCOM was doing the same thing to the alien bodies and captives. But it was understandable why humans didn’t consider that worth mentioning; it was probably the same for the aliens.

“But for when it actually became personal for _me_ ,” Carmelita sighed, her voice softening. “I lost someone I cared about. A lot. He died to one of the chryssalids; then he was shot again to kill whatever those creatures planted inside him.”

He suppressed a wince. No wonder she felt this way. Death by chryssalid was a horrible way to go. At least she hadn’t been the one to put him down a second time, at least for what she described. “I’m sorry,” he told her simply.

“So am I,” she muttered. “But I can’t change that. All I can do now is ensure that the aliens die, preferably slowly and painfully. They deserve nothing less,” She looked up at him. “That answer your question?”

He nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Why do you even care?” She asked, resting her arms on her legs.

He shrugged. “I like to know how people think; what drives and motivates them. I wondered about you, but asking was the only way to know for sure.”

“Hmm,” she appraised him. “So what do you think? What are your feelings towards the aliens?”

“They are the enemy, plain and simple,” he stated firmly. “I will do whatever I can to fight them. Though I can’t help but be…curious…” he glanced over at Carmelita, who was waiting for him to continue. “They must have some sort of society, history and culture,” he continued. “I do wonder how they function, how they think and reason.”

He sighed. “I don’t know if I should be thinking of that when we’re at war. But…” he shrugged. “It’s something that I wonder about occasionally.”

“I doubt they have much,” Carmelita finally said. “I think the majority are slaves or tools to the sectoids or some other alien overlord. The mutons don’t seem intelligent enough to think beyond a battle, the floaters are enslaved to whoever controls their machinery, the chryssalids are slaved to the sectoids and the thin men…” she paused. “Heartless killers and assassins that are used to fulfill whatever agenda is set.”

“You think the sectoids are the leaders?” He asked, curious and glad she was at least discussing this.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “They’re probably a hive mind of some kind since all of them are cloned and psionic.” She pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t get too attached to whatever you learn, as we’ll destroy it once we win the war. Though I’ll be sure to bring you a live subject some time. Perhaps one of the thin men, they’d probably talk the most.”

He shuddered at the thought of torturing a thin man. That was _not_ his thing. “I’ll leave the interrogating to the people in charge.”

“A wise plan,” she agreed, standing up. “I don’t expect you to understand how I, or the veterans feel, but you will. Everyone who enters XCOM eventually has their moment when they realize the only acceptable outcome is the eradication of these aliens. I’ll be curious as to yours. Good day, Soran.”

With that she left, leaving him alone.

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

The door slid open and the Commander strode in, hands clasped behind his back. Zhang and the agents across from him saluted as he walked by and took his place by Zhang at the holotable. There were four agents in total, all of which he’d seen or met before.

Ruth Shira, one agent who’d risen very quickly with Zhang and was one of the best agents in XCOM Intelligence. If she was involved, this operation was going to be important. Well, he’d known that as Zhang didn’t personally make sure he was at every intelligence briefing.

The African woman, Akello he’d never personally met, but she’d proven herself as a skilled hacker and technical specialist. Kalonymous was another he knew by reputation. He was the best disguise artist Zhang had and was said to be able to impersonate anyone. Abby was also here, a woman he hadn’t seen in awhile. Her transfer had come as a surprise, but he trusted she knew what she was doing, and that Zhang wouldn’t take anyone he didn’t feel qualified.

“This is your show, Zhang,” the Commander told him, stepping back to let him take the center. “Begin when ready.”

“Of course,” Zhang nodded and faced the agents. “This operation will be the first official one against the entity known to us as EXALT,” He pressed a button on the holotable and several shimmering holographic logos appeared. “From intel we’ve gathered, they operate through multiple shell companies and our main theory is that this is how they transfer funds and equipment.”

“I assume we’re going to investigate one,” Ruth guessed, smiling.

“Correct,” Zhang nodded in approval. “I’ve been monitoring all known ones and recently, this one has had a lot of interesting traffic at the primary factory.” He pressed another button and all the logos vanished except one. “Cельскохозяйственные товары,” Zhang stated. “A Russian agricultural company specializing in farm equipment. But based on photos from agents watching, it seems as though they’re moving more than just farming equipment.”

Zhang pressed another button and several photos appeared. Large black trucks loaded with unidentifiable cargo arriving and leaving. Staff interacting with suited figures wearing shades. Even if the Commander couldn’t tell what was in the cargo, just based off the shape in size, it wasn’t what was advertised.

“Do we know what they’re transporting?” Abby asked. “Do they actually make farming equipment or is it a cover?”

“They do appear to have a legitimate client base,” Zhang admitted. “Which helps us in showing just how _different_ the cargo is for these people. Sadly, we don’t know what the contents are since I don’t want to spook EXALT yet.”

The Commander nodded. Smart, they could always intercept a transport later, but moving in might cause an exodus or shutdown. “So is this an infiltration op?” Kalonymous asked, a wry smile on his face.

“It will be,” Zhang answered firmly. “But we’re not moving directly for the factory itself. Security is too tight and since we don’t know the extent of it, we’re going to do this the hard way. Take the identity of the worker and use it to infiltrate the building.”

Ruth grinned. “And just who is the target?”

Zhang brought up the picture of a younger, brown haired man with a friendly face. “Madvay Vadim,” Zhang stated. “Distribution assistant manager. He will be our target.”

The image vanished and the holotable lit up with a map. Zhang pointed at a red dot. “Madvay has been in Paris the past few days on a vacation of sorts. We’re not sure if this is the genuine reason, but we need to move before he leaves. He visits _this_ bar every night, stays for a few hours, then leaves.”

Zhang looked up at the four of them. “You four will be responsible for gathering his company ID and any other information on him. The more you gather, the more airtight our infiltration. How you do this will be largely up to your discretion, but we need his ID.”

Ruth nodded. “Abby and I will conduct the actual operation. Between the two of us, I’m sure we can get him to show us his ID,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Guys like to brag.”

Zhang eyed her. “I’d prefer he wasn’t killed.”

Ruth snorted. “Please, getting men to talk is my specialty,” she smiled and lightly punched Abby in the arm. “Though I think Abby could use some practice.”

Abby sighed. “Wonderful.”

“I’ll secure the cameras and security systems,” Akello said, looking around. “They won’t even know we’re there.”

“Excellent,” Zhang nodded. “I’ll also have a combat team in case things go really wrong. Though I’m sure you can take care of yourselves without them.”

“Of course,” Kalonymous flicked his wrist lazily. “I’ll stick outside as one of the locals. Watch for anyone suspicious and provide backup if needed.”

“And what exactly will you do if EXALT is watching?” The Commander asked. “I would be surprised if he didn’t have some kind of security.”

“We’ll scan the area before moving on him,” Ruth answered. “I know what to look for. Akello can also watch the cameras for any suspicious activity.”

“Once you have the ID, then what?” The Commander asked, looking at Zhang.

“We’ll have a short window to act,” Zhang answered. “Kalonymous will infiltrate the factory and gather as much information as he can on his own. Provided everything goes according to plan, I’ll send in additional agents to set up a transponder to monitor everything going on inside the factory. Then we’ll just have to monitor it for tampering. By the time EXALT discovers it, we’ll hopefully have enough data to pinpoint a more direct EXALT facility.”

Abby frowned. “What happens if we can’t set it up in time before Madvay returns?”

“We kill him and Kalonymous will take his place for a short time,” he grimaced. “It’ll cause EXALT to discover they’ve been compromised more quickly, but it shouldn’t hurt us that much overall. But I’d prefer for things to stay running as smoothly as possible.”

Ruth looked at the other agents. “I guess we’re ready when you are.”

“Good,” Zhang stated. “Because you’re moving out now. Good luck.”

Each saluted Zhang and left the room, leaving the Commander alone with him. “A good plan,” the Commander complimented. “Though I hope Abigail will not compromise anything.”

“She’ll do fine,” Zhang reassured him. “With Ruth looking out for her, I’m confident this will go well. I’m not anticipating much resistance, at least for the first part. It’s the factory infiltration where things will get interesting.”

“Speaking of interesting,” the Commander recalled, moving the holographic map towards the Middle East. “I noticed you’re taking a greater interest in Israel.”

“They’re planning something,” Zhang informed, frowning as he also observed the holotable. “And the implications concern me.”

“On how large a scale?”

“There are a _lot_ of personnel, money and equipment being moved around,” Zhang stated. “The Prime Minister himself is ensuring everything related to this is classified; that’s the only way an operation on this scale could proceed with almost complete secrecy.”

“I might have to speak with him,” the Commander muttered. “Perhaps he needs to be reminded who is providing him his new technology.”

“He’d just deny anything,” Zhang warned. “He’s smart and if you go without anything to back it up, you risk losing his support. Nowinski is one who would do that.”

“Well, we need to know what’s going on,” the Commander insisted. “So I suppose you have an idea.”

“The only plan that would work is a full operation on Israel,” Zhang stated grimly. “Something I’ve been seriously considering of late.”

“Risky,” the Commander commented. “If it fails and Israel discovers us, we’d be screwed. Not to mention around half your force is former Mossad and Kidon. They might not go along with it.”

“The loyalty of my agents is not what concerns me,” Zhang shook his head. “If anything, they’ll want to know what’s going on as well. They are part of XCOM now and if Israel threatens to put us at risk, they are now a threat to eliminate.”

“Awfully loyal,” the Commander commented thoughtfully. “National loyalties aren’t usually forgotten so easily.”

“They believe their work will be the reason we ultimately win or lose this war,” Zhang said. “Being responsible for the human race quickly turns ones viewpoint to the bigger picture. Why remain completely loyal to one nation when the world is at stake?”

Zhang’s lip curled up. “XCOM Intelligence will be essential in this war. But it will not decide it. But telling them it does increases their effectiveness and willingness to obey orders they might otherwise question. Convince them it’s for the benefit of the human race and you’d be surprised with what they will do.”

“I suppose the Hades Contingency was a test of sorts,” the Commander commented. “I did wonder, what did you do to convince them or make it easier?”

“I ordered them and they obeyed,” Zhang explained easily. “I’d already been building up their importance in their head, but what I think helped was that each of them had a persona to play. It’s psychologically easier to carry out an act like mass murder as someone else; giving them false identities, disguises and personas helped make it feel less…real.”

“An application of the Stanford prison experiment,” the Commander nodded. “Clever. Dehumanization is an effective method.”

“It helps that a good portion of agents are Kidon,” Zhang agreed. “People are more inclined to follow the crowd, even if the act is questionable. It’s no different with agents. It’s why I always include several Mossad of Kidon agents with the others. After a few operations, they don’t question it and follow orders without question.”

“Groupthink is an interesting phenomenon,” the Commander agreed. “Of course, the trick is moving the group the way you want.”

“That it is,” Zhang agreed with a nod. “It’s a delicate process, but I feel that the current method is working. Abby will be a test of this theory.”

Interesting. “Is that why you wanted her? To see if you could change her?”

“Partially,” Zhang corrected. “I meant what I said. She has the makings of an excellent agent. But emotionally and psychologically? She’s a questionable pick at best. She’s a doctor, compassionate, kind and empathic. Not useful traits.”

“So you paired her up with one your most ruthless agents,” the Commander nodded. “You think it will work?”

“I’m curious,” Zhang admitted. “With Ruth, I think she’ll relate well with her and that will be essential in influencing her. But I think she will change eventually. I have some ideas to encourage a more…emotionless approach.”

“And if this social experiment doesn’t work?” the Commander asked.

“Then she will die,” Zhang shrugged. “People like her don’t last in intelligence work. You adapt or die. No in-between.”

“Keep me updated,” the Commander told him as he straightened up. “You’ve got me interested in the outcome of your little experiment now. But I’ve got an appointment with Vahlen, good luck with the op.”

“Appreciated, Commander,” Zhang nodded as he saluted. “I’ll be on call if you need me.”

The Commander left the room, leaving Zhang looking over the map of Israel, plotting his next move.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Patricia took a breath and tilted her head back and let the warm water rush over her. She needed something to stop her from shivering from cold. There was so much that had gone wrong and so much that had happened that she didn’t know what even to think at the moment.

She was affected with something, and psionics or no, it was only growing stronger and worse. The headaches had worsened as they’d flown back, several times she’d suppressed screams as she physically _felt_ the pain Myra was dealing with. It was only flashes, but it was enough to drive someone mad.

Now she could swear she was hearing voices that didn’t exist. Words appeared in her mind, broken and incomprehensible…but she understood them. That wasn’t, or shouldn’t be normal. And what had happened when she’d launched the attack…they’d all followed her lead without her saying so much as a word. Almost as if she exerted some sort of influence on them…and the fact she’d simultaneously tapped into all their emotions at the same time seemed to reaffirm it.

She didn’t know why, but everything had toned down now. But if the past few days were any indication, it would come back eventually. For once in her life, she didn’t know what she could do. She’d considered going back to Vahlen, but was worried she’d be pulled or dismissed from duty and that wasn’t something she wanted anymore. She couldn’t afford to sit out while scientists pored over her since they would probably find nothing useful.

But she had to figure this out. By herself if need be. If she was psionic, there had to be a way she could control it or at least suppress it. She shut off the water and leaned forward against the wall, hands extended. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Try to figure this out on her own and if nothing improved…she’d go to the Commander. He’d decide what to do with her then.

She stepped out of the shower and got dressed, wincing as a sharp pain in her head appeared and vanished just as quickly. It would probably start again soon. Pulling on a simple navy blue t-shirt she gasped as a wave of _interest_ gripped her. Normally it would vanish a few seconds later but she wanted to try something.

Leaning against the bathroom sink, she looked into the mirror and instead of letting the emotion go, she focused on retaining it. The instant she focused on it a series of images hit her.

_People at some kind of ceremony, no one she recognized…_

_Screaming as someone was subjected to a surgery or experiment, she couldn’t tell what…_

_A woman who looked oddly familiar…_

Patricia leapt back in shock as she noticed her eyes. Instead of their normal brown, her iris were a glowing purple. Upon closer inspection, it looked like there were borderline microscopic veins spider-webbing on the eyeball also pulsing a faint purple all leading to the iris. As soon as she lost whatever connection she’d had, the glowing slowly faded, leaving her eyes their original color.

She shuddered. That…she needed to be careful of triggering that again. Of course, she wasn’t entirely sure what had caused it. Perhaps actively _focusing_ on the emotion instead of letting it pass? This needed more experimentation.

Actually…she had an idea. Something that might help her figure this out. It might be worth asking him although she’d be relying on his discretion.

She exited the bathroom, calmer now that she had a plan, no matter how tenuous.

“Patricia?” She turned as Sarah approached her, looking concerned.

“Yes?” She answered, wondering what this was about. The woman bit her lip.

“How are you doing?” She finally said. “You seemed in pain on the way back.”

Ah, so she’d noticed that. “Just have been having migraines lately,” she answered, providing some truth as she shrugged. “Guess the stress on the mission was enough to trigger another one.”

“Sure,” Sarah sounded unconvinced. “Um, look.” She moved forward. “I don’t know if you noticed or not…but…you did something on that mission. Something that shouldn’t be possible.”

This wasn’t good. “What?” She asked, curious what Sarah had noticed.

“When you…jumped,” Sarah emphasized with her hand. “From the second story to attack the outsider. When you landed… _something_ came out of you. It was like a purple shockwave or something.”

 _That_ was something she hadn’t noticed, though she’d not really been paying attention to her surroundings at the time. “What?” She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sarah nodded firmly, putting a USB drive in her hands. “I looked at the armor cam footage. It’s faint but it’s there.” She paused. “I don’t know how much you know or not…but you need to talk to someone to figure this out. I’m no scientist, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

“I’ll do that,” she promised, thankful that was all she apparently had to say. “Thank you.”

“Thank me if you come up with an explanation,” Sarah shrugged. “I’d feel better knowing there’s a plausible explanation.”

Well…her current theory _was_ plausible. However, Patricia got the feeling that it wouldn’t make Sarah feel any better. At least she wasn’t accusing her of reading her mind or something.

Pocketing the USB, she continued walked through the barracks until she spotted him reading a book. “We need to talk,” she stated bluntly to Creed, not really caring how it came out. To his credit, he immediately put the book down and sat up.

“What about?” He asked, a perfectly valid question, but not exactly in the best place to get answers.

She motioned him to follow her. “Not here.” She heard him sigh as he got up to follow her. She pondered where they’d go to have a decent amount of privacy. The Training Area should be pretty empty at the moment; yes that’d do.

Creed held back whatever questions he had, which she appreciated. Luckily there were few people, all of whom were too focused on their current tasks to really care about them. Patricia walked over to an empty corner.

“Alright,” Creed finally said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “I assume this is important?”

She sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Depends on how important you consider me. Suffice to say I consider it important.”

Creed nodded and motioned for her to continue. “So what’s this about?”

Patricia took a breath. “You were right when you noticed something was off about me.”

“I did say you’re a terrible liar,” he reminded her with a small smile.

“Yeah, well,” Patricia shrugged. “It’s not something I’ve tried to cultivate. But that isn’t important. During the Dreadnought mission…something happened to me. I don’t know for sure, but I think it made me a psionic.”

Creed straightened up in surprise, eyes widening. “How do you know?”

“I don’t,” she scowled. “But ever since the mission I’ve been able to know things I shouldn’t, predict who’s going to be somewhere when I shouldn’t. Feel emotions that aren’t mind. Words appear in my mind without context or meaning. If I focus, I can see glimpses of…I don’t even know yet…memories or thoughts.”

She continued explaining as best she could, telling about the symbols she’d seen when accessing the psionic network. Vahlen’s theory that she was contacted by an alien and how that tied to her theory of how that explained the meanings behind the symbols. She finished by describing the previous mission and the strange occurrences that had happened.

Creed just listened, in disbelief or not she couldn’t tell. But he was taking her seriously and not interrupting, which helped since she had to pause a lot to find the right words. She wasn’t a fan of prolonged one-on-one conversations, especially when she was doing most of the talking.

“So now you know,” she finished, sliding down the wall until she was seated on the ground, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “So how close was your guess?”

“ _Nowhere_ near anything like that,” he answered slowly, shaking his head. “So…just how much can you…sense?”

She hesitated. “It’s usually just one emotion at a time. Like anger, joy or terror. Normally it’s not more than that. Though if I try to go deeper, it becomes clearer. Sort of.”

“Shouldn’t you talk with Vahlen or the Commander?” Creed asked. “I appreciate you telling me…but I’m not sure how much I can help you with.”

“I went to Vahlen,” Patricia reminded him. “I think she knows I’m psionic, but isn’t telling me for some reason. Aside from that, I don’t want to get pulled from active duty. A bunch of scientists are probably not going to be able to cure me.”

“So why tell me?” Creed asked curiously, cocking his head. “You didn’t exactly seem open to it last we talked.”

She hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to say. She finally shrugged, she didn’t see a point omitting stuff especially if he agreed. “I didn’t know how you’d react. I don’t know…” she scowled. “I guess I figured you’d find it very invasive if I told you I could read your emotions, even if it wasn’t my fault.”

“Have you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “For a while it was only you for some reason. But lately I’m beginning to do it with others.”

“Ah,” he looked away. Mixed emotions on his face. She prayed her abilities didn’t strike _now_ of all times. Luckily, it didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she tried apologizing. “But it just happens…I can’t control it.”

“I know,” he sighed. “It’s just a little disconcerting. There are things that should remain private. For someone to be able to penetrate a mind like that…” He shook his head. “It’s scary.”

“I know,” she nodded, heart sinking. “But it’s the same for me. I never wanted this.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, looking back at her. “But you have it now and I doubt it’s going to change. So,” he shifted to face her. “What are you planning? You _do_ have one, correct?”

“Yes,” she nodded, pushing a strand of her chestnut hair out of her face. “I want to try and learn to control this. It’s the only way things will get better. I either need to control or suppress it,” she paused. “If that fails, I’ll go to the Commander and let him decide what to do.”

She hesitated, then looked him in the eye. “But if I really want to do this, I’ll learn much faster if I have someone to practice on.”

He got it. “You want to practice on me **,** ” he stated with surprising calm.

“I don’t _want_ to,” she answered emphatically. “I know what I’m asking and I wouldn’t if I felt I could learn as quickly some other way. You don’t have to agree either,” she added quickly. “I’ll figure this out on my own if you don’t want to. But if there’s anyone I’d trust to do this with, it’s you.”

He looked over at her. “Well, I’m flattered you think that of me, really,” his tone turned wistful. “But…I suppose it’s more of a personal thing for me. You’ll probably learn things I’ve tried to keep under wraps,” he looked away. “I don’t talk much about myself for good reasons.”

She also looked away. “I understand. I do and won’t press further.”

“I haven’t refused yet,” he reminded her seriously. “I’m thinking, not just for myself, but for you. Go into my head and you might not come out as well as I did,” he shook his head. “I don’t know if this goes both ways, but it’s a risk you should know.”

Patricia looked over at him. It occurred to her she actually knew very little about him. She’d never asked about his past and simply discussed the present and things they had in common. He’d never given the impression that he was carrying any sort of baggage. Although now that she thought more about it, that was probably deliberate and he’d just gotten very good at it.

“I guess that depends if you want to risk letting me see or not,” she finally told him. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

He looked at her intently for a minute, his face unreadable as he looked into her eyes. He leaned back into the wall, resting his head on the wall. “I became a SEAL to protect and help people. That applies to you and I won’t back out because I’m afraid of what you might see. If I can help you control this power, I will do so.” 

She swallowed, wishing he had some way of knowing how much that meant to her. She knew she was asking permission for her to view his entire mind, and most people would refuse. Good, honest people at that. There was little she could think of that was more selfless than that, and just to possibly help her. It might even ultimately fail, but he was willing regardless.

He looked drained after that admission, his brown-skinned face much lighter than before. She stood and walked over to kneel down in front of him. “Thank you,” she told him, trying to convey how important this was to her.

He gave a wan smiled and extended an arm which she grasped by the forearm and pulled him up. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you take the lead here,” he said. “I’m ready whenever you want to…practice.”

“Don’t worry yet,” she reassured him. “I’ll need some time to think about what might work.”

“Ok,” he nodded and flicked his eyes down. “You can let go of my arm now.”

“Right,” she realized she was still holding it firmly and let it drop. “Thank you again. I know how much I’m asking.”

“I just hope it works,” he answered.

So did she.

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

The doors hissed open as the Commander walked into the Research Labs. Everything was as he remembered, although there were a few more scientists than the last time he’d been here. A result of additional staffing and recruiting by himself, Bradford and Van Doorn. XCOM would soon be one of the largest scientific institutes in the world if recruiting kept up a steady pace.

Still, he didn’t see Vahlen anywhere, which mean she was probably in the new Genetics Lab. To avoid a repeat of the Engineering Bay, he’d looked to see where the lab was installed and was pleased that it had been done discreetly. Walking up to the far wall, he lifted a simple black panel and placed his hand on it.

There was a satisfying click and the wall slid back, revealing a short hallway further in. The instant he walked past the doors, they shut behind him. Interesting. The hallway was well lit and he kept walking until he reached another automatic glass door which slid open upon his approach.

This was what he assumed was the Genetics Lab. It was fairly open, with workbenches, vials and other lab equipment scattered throughout in no particular order. The one difference being that much of the equipment looked much different than what was in the Research Labs. Probably specific genetic equipment.

In the back of the room was an odd contraption. Giant glass tubes tinted yellow, probably able to fit a large adult, were arranged in a circle and attached to a machine that seemed to be able to rotate them around. Other chairs were nearby, equipment with needles and monitors attached to them. The Commander didn’t fail to note the restraints on them.

Something caught his eye and he walked over to a glass case and started when a massive spider jumped out at him. He scowled as the spider scurried around in it’s makeshift habitat of dirt and leaves. Out of all spiders, he hated tarantulas the most because they were so…furry. He shivered as he watched that thing scurry away into it’s little habitat. What the hell was Vahlen doing with those things?

For that matter, why were there other animals in the lab?

Looking up, he noted what appeared to be a hawk in a cage, along with a bald eagle and falcon. Looking at his feet, he also noticed a black cat with a white strip on it’s nose nuzzling his leg. Smiling, he reached down and held the cat in his arms, rubbing it’s head. The cat purred contentedly in his arms as he continued looking around.

Several sectoids, thin men and muton corpses were splayed throughout the room, some having equipment attached, some in body bags. It appeared several of the thin men (and woman, he noted) had been partially autopsied, mostly around the arms and legs.

“Commander!” Moira Vahlen greeted enthusiastically as she approached him, a tablet in hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The Commander set the cat down. “As am I,” he answered with a smile of his own. “I’m very curious as to what you’ve been doing.”

“The MELD substance had redefined genetics as we know it,” Vahlen stated, eyes shimmering. “Thanks to it, I think we can improve and modify every part of the human body. We can mold the human body into _whatever_ we wish, with enough time and resources.”

Well, that sounded promising. “So, I assume you have some ideas on genetic modification?” He asked. “And may I ask why _that_ ,” he pointed at the spider **,** “Is within the Citadel.”

Vahlen smirked at that. “Oh right, the fearless Commander is scared of spiders.”

He scowled. “Not _scared._ Just…”

“Paranoid?” Vahlen suggested, walking over and opening the lid to it’s cage. Reaching down, she palmed the tarantula and walked back over. “Don’t be scared. It’s remarkably tame.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes. “Bring that near me and I’ll kill it.”

Vahlen gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh fine,” she set the spider back down and brushed herself off. “But as much as you scoff, that spider is the basis for one of my ideas.”

“You want to combine spider genetics with _humans_?” the Commander asked incredulously. He did _not_ like that idea.

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically. “You know how spiders are able to climb walls and ceilings so easily?”

“Don’t they have little tiny claws that hook surfaces?” the Commander recalled, thinking back to facts he’d learned decades ago.

“Hairs,” Vahlen corrected. “Thousands of tiny ones allow a spider to climb almost any surface. Now, most of the hairs aren’t as distinct as the tarantula, but I want to take this same genetic trait and apply it to our soldiers.”

Ah...that was rather brilliant. He felt that an ability like that would especially come in handy for XCOM Intelligence agents. “You really think you could do that?” He asked. Then shook his head. This was Vahlen, if she had an idea she’d make it work, somehow.

“It’s probably the most complex idea I have,” Vahlen admitted, glancing down at the spider. “But I certainly think it’s possible. No,” she quickly corrected. “It _is_ possible.”

The Commander motioned further into the lab. “Continue.”

“Right,” Vahlen walked over to the cage of the bald eagle. “Human eyes are suitable, but compared to birds of prey like the hawk and eagle, they don’t even match up. They can see up to six or eight times better than us. I shouldn’t have to state the advantages of soldiers with hawk vision.”

The Commander was slowly catching onto Vahlen’s enthusiasm. The implications of the research meant they could overcome the limitations humans were generally restricted to. He imagined a squad of soldiers who could climb walls and had literal eagle eyes. “If you could enhance the clarity,” he asked. “Could you also add additional traits like the ability to see in the dark like cats?”

She smiled. “Already have, I believe you already met my feline test subject,” the Commander looked down at the cat nuzzling Vahlen’s leg. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to combine enhanced eyesight with night vision yet,” Vahlen admitted. “It’s either-or at the moment. Though in the future and with additional test subjects, I think we’ll be able to overcome that limitation.”

“Fascinating,” the Commander murmured as he thought more. “Please, show me more.”

“Right this way,” Vahlen motioned him by the corpse of a thin man. “Aside from the animal kingdom, the aliens themselves are a wealth of genetic possibilities. The thin man species in particular has been fascinating to deconstruct. They are the epitome of genetic malleability. I’ve hypothesized that their original form is _far_ different than their current one indicates.”

“So what ideas do you have?” The Commander asked.

“The muscle density is the greatest advantage we can take,” Vahlen explained, pointing at the sliced open legs. “They can leap from distances that would kill an ordinary human and jump similar heights. We can apply this trait to our own soldiers.”

“Allowing them unprecedented mobility,” the Commander muttered. “They wouldn’t have to fear heights or jumps anymore.”

“They could still risk getting injured,” Vahlen cautioned. “But it will be much safer. Now, the thin man is highly resistant to toxins thanks to this gland,” she pointed at the thin man with his throat ripped open. “That is another advantage we can give our soldiers. We could use chemical non-acidic weapons without fear of blowback.”

If soldiers were able to proceed without fear of chemical weapons, that would open _so_ many possibilities for more aggressive tactics. The future of combat was changing before his eyes and Vahlen wasn’t even done yet.

Calm down. The Commander took a breath. Just because Vahlen said it was possible didn’t mean it was guaranteed to happen. The modifications needed to be tested to weed out any side effects and she might discover some ideas just didn’t work.

But if even _some_ of them did…

“Anything from the sectoid?” He asked, nodding towards the gray corpses.

“Nothing really tangible,” Vahlen admitted with a sigh. “Their main advantage is psionics and any genetic mods would have to relate to that at some way. I’m focusing on the more likely ideas before returning to the sectoids. However…” she waved him over to a muton corpse. “ _This_ alien has also proven rather useful.”

“How so?”

“This was a creature bred for conflict,” Vahlen explained, her face reverent. “It’s skin is resistant to small blades, arms and chemicals or fire. I can see some very practical applications of this for our soldiers. They need all the protection we can give them.” Vahlen walked over to a table and picked up a jar containing two…hearts.

“But what I found interesting is why the muton is more difficult to kill,” Vahlen continued, bringing the jar over for him to observe. “It has a natural backup system. A secondary heart in case the main one is injured or fails. I think we could also apply this to our soldiers, it might reduce our casualties significantly.”

The Commander whistled. “This is amazing, Moira,” he shook his head. “You surpassed my expectations. Both you and Shen. Well done.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you, Commander. Though I do have to say that these ideas must be tested. I suspect you would agree that we should _not_ test them on our soldiers.”

“Well,” the Commander smiled. “It’s a good thing your shipment of test subjects came in.”

“That they did,” Vahlen nodded, her lips curling up. “It will be a pleasure to bring some worth to those wastes of human life.”

“Where are they now?” the Commander asked, looking around.

“In the testing cells,” Vahlen hooked his arm in her own and guided him towards the far right wall. Well, he wasn’t going to complain. Vahlen put her hand on another pad and a door similar to the Genetics Lab entrance opened, revealing a blindingly white room.

There were twenty cells in total. All with thick glass walls and doors extending to the ceiling, allowing the test subjects to see each other. The room gleamed from white paint and harsh white lights. Each cell had a toilet, but no bed, just a blanket. White tile covered the floor, except for the drains in the cells and walkway.

The room seemed sterile and it would be, if not for the prisoners filling the cells. With one exception, all were men of various sizes and ages. Some were tattooed, others not. Some fit the stereotype of murderous prisoner and others looked completely normal. But the Commander wasn’t fooled. These were all dangerous individuals who had committed horrific crimes and deserved no mercy.

The test subjects noticed them and started shouting, though no sound came out. He realized that the cells must have been soundproofed, a smart move. Each cell also had a switch and speaker, allowing communication within the cell. Out of pure curiosity, the Commander went over to a nearby cell containing a burly man with a long beard, a tattooed arm and raging eyes. His white skin seemed paler in the harsh light. The Commander flipped the switch.

“I’ll give you one chance,” the man hissed, utter rage in his voice. “You let me out now and I’ll make sure your death is quick.” The Commander raised his eyebrow in amusement as he continued ranting, struggling not to smile at the utterly ludicrous statements coming out of his mouth. Vahlen walked over beside him, also observing the man

“I swear I’ll get out,” he continued furiously. “Then I’ll kill you, then that Nazi bitch!”

Vahlen stiffened at that and any amusement the Commander felt vanished. He fixed the test subject with the coldest glare he could. “No, you won’t **,** ” he stated, then flicked the switch off.

He looked over at Vahlen and placed a hand on her right shoulder. “I’m sorry about that.”

She reached up and her hand covered his. “You have no control over him,” she said softly. “And I suppose I should get used to it.” Her face hardened. “He’ll be saved for last. There was a reason I had the cells made of glass. They will learn respect soon enough.”

The Commander nodded in approval. “I have faith you’ll administer justice properly.”

“That I will,” she promised, looking at the array of murderers and rapists before them. “I suspect some will wish they had died.”

“Let’s go back in,” he suggested, putting an arm around her shoulder which Vahlen didn’t object to and they both walked back inside. He let his arm drop as Vahlen closed the entrance to the room.

She took a breath. “I’m going to get started within the day. I should have some results soon after.”

“I look forward to it,” the Commander nodded. “Anything else I should know.”

“Yes,” Vahlen began tapping on her tablet. “Remember that soldier you asked me to look at?”

“Patricia?” the Commander recalled. “Yes, did you learn something?”

Vahlen pursed her lips. “I did; take a look at this.” He walked over until her was directly behind her and looked at the screen. It showed two skulls, both with odd waves coming out of their heads.

He frowned. “Vahlen, you know I’m not as technically smart as you. What is this?”

“Brain scans of a sectoid and Patricia,” Vahlen answered. “Back when I took one of the sectoid, I marked it as a psionic emanation since no other species we’ve recovered has been able to display it.”

The Commander took a breath. “You mean…”

“Patricia is psionic.” Vahlen finished with a nod.

The Commander immediately began plotting possible applications in his head. “How?” he asked.

“I believe she came into contact with alien technology on the Dreadnaught Assault,” Vahlen answered. “It must have…awakened her.”

“We need to replicate this,” the Commander stated, thoughts racing. “If humans are psionically capable, we need to learn how to recognize one and awaken them,” he shook his head. “This could allow us to truly take the aliens on. Psionics was something we had no defense for…but now…”

“I know,” Vahlen agreed. “And I have a theory of how we could recognize a psionic,” she hesitated. “But we should focus on only a few things. I honestly think genetic modification should take priority. Along with the sectoid virus.”

“Are you ready to begin testing that as well?” He asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “Today in fact. Should it prove successful, I’ll prepare it for field use.” She paused. “Herman also came by.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes. “What did he want?”

“He had questions,” Vahlen shrugged. “I simply played the incomprehensible scientist and steered him away from anything about the MELD substance. He does know about the sectoid virus, though he didn’t tell me his thoughts. I’m not sure he fully approved of it.”

Well, he had plenty of defenses for that particular weapon. Though he didn’t think Herman would pick that particular hill to die on, though it was possible. “Should I call Patricia back in?” Vahlen asked. “Take more scans?”

“Not at the moment,” the Commander shook his head. “Focus on the gene mods. If things worsen or change with her, I’m sure she’ll come to me or you. Though I might have Zhang check up on her every once in awhile.”

“Good to hear,” Vahlen sighed. “As much as this excites me, I do miss having some time off. Working day after day nonstop is exhausting.”

“I can agree with that,” the Commander sympathized. “Though maybe we should make some time. I’m sure we can find it somewhere.”

“I’ll let you figure it out,” Vahlen told him. “You’re better at these things than me. I’ll just get distracted by something I’ve forgotten.”

He smiled. “Alright, but you have to come, no questions.”

“You might want to get that in writing,” she suggested lightly. “But don’t worry. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Would there be anything you’d like to eat?” He asked, figuring it’d be a nice thing to do for her.

She looked up. “Rouladen,” she finally said. “It was always my favorite back in Germany.”

 _Rouladen_. Right, he’d have to write that down before he forgot. He hoped it wasn’t too complicated. “Alright. Thank you, Moira. You’ve done incredible work.”

Vahlen put her tablet down and took his hands in her own. “I should thank you,” she said softly. “We wouldn’t have made it this far without you. You’ve allowed me to do so much more than I could have ever imagined.”

The Commander stood there, just enjoying being near her. He reluctantly let her hands down. “I should let you get back to work,” he told her quietly. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Of course,” she cleared her throat. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He left her to her work, feeling more optimistic about the direction was war was about to take. The next evolution of the human soldier was coming and he suspected the aliens had no idea what was in store for them.


	10. Setting the Trap

 

_Solaris Industries, Seattle, United States of America_

Saudia smiled as she looked out the window. It had been a long time since she’d had any professional reason to visit Seattle, so in a grim way, she was glad Matthew had requested her to visit. She did want to wander around the city a bit, but was anticipating that business would likely take all her available time here.

The Chronicler was going to be the one who went sightseeing this time. Sitting beside her in regular civilian attire, he would easily blend in with the crowd and was going to be taking a few weeks to…do whatever he planned. She didn’t fully know what he intended to accomplish, but he’d assured her he only wanted a few weeks. It was a possible security risk, of course. But given that he’d done similar excursions this in the past without incident, she knew the risk was low.

The taxi they were riding in pulled to a stop and she looked out the window up at the headquarters of Solaris Industries. A modest sized skyscraper in comparison to the rest of Seattle, it was nevertheless an impressive building with the slightly shaded glass windows encasing it. A near literal glass palace. There were no distinguishing marks on the building itself, except the company logo near the bottom.

It matched up with the persona Matthew had built up around himself and his company; Open, transparent and modest.

“Be careful if you’re going inside,” their driver warned as he stopped, looking into the mirror back at them. “Looks like they have company.”

Saudia looked toward the entrance and saw a large mob of people outside, some holding up signs and others yelling slogans and chants. Her lip curled up as she watched the crowd. Protesters. Not much of a surprise to be honest. Having one of the largest weapons manufacturers in one of the most liberal states in the country was bound to attract the attention of anti-gun, anti-war and liberal groups.

More so given the current debate on gun regulation. She personally wasn’t informed on the specifics of the issue, but was definitely aware that it was happening. Matthew was the expert on American politics.

“Is this common?” The Chronicler asked as he unbuckled, moving over by her.

Their driver snorted. “You been living under a rock or something? Yeah, this is pretty common. Especially with what happened a few days ago.”

The Chronicler raised an eyebrow at the driver, clearly curious as to what _did_ happen, but shrugged and kept silent. “You want to get out here?” Saudia asked, knowing it wasn’t the best place to disembark for him.

“Yes,” he answered, surprising her. “Perhaps I’ll learn something.”

Saudia shrugged, it was his choice and she had work to do. Opening the door, she stepping out into the bright sunlight. Clouds on the horizon indicated a storm coming soon, but she’d be inside long before it hit. She’d paid the driver in advance, so he drove off a few seconds later.

“So long, Saudia,” the Chronicler said, putting on his sunglasses. “I hope your meeting is productive.”

“So do I,” she answered with a nod. “Come back here when you’re finished. Matthew will make sure you get back to the Bastion safely.”

“I know,” he assured her with a smile. “Now, I have some things to do.” With that he walked off into the crowd which was slowly becoming larger. Taking a closer look at the participants, she found it mildly interesting that it was a fairly diverse group. Many times, protesters ended up being largely one demographic or another. This particular groups seemed a healthy mix of black, white and Hispanic ethnicities.

She looked back at the entrance to the building. Several Solaris guards had surrounded the perimeter, keeping the protesters at bay. While not all employees at Solaris Industries were EXALT, every single one of the guards were and they’d likely recognize her, so she doubted she’d be held up very long.

The crowd had completely taken over the front and she saw twelve Solaris guards guarding the entrance with their hands clasped together in front and in firm stances. They wore a variation of their dress uniforms, black suits and pants. They closely resembled the American Secret Service, minus the sunglasses, which had not doubt been a deliberate choice by Matthew. They lacked the bandanna for obvious reasons and instead of displaying the EXALT emblem, there was instead the Solaris emblem.

As they were registered security, the guards were armed with Solaris pistols and additional non-lethal riot control measures. Legally, they could wield assault weapons, but Matthew had decided against that as he felt it would only escalate matters. It was also an image and political matter for him as well, since he was seen as one of the more reasonable people within the whole gun debate. Arming his security with automatic weapons would at least give the impression he was choosing a side; making it extremely difficult to keep his position neutral, as he’d intended.

Now, the guards had nothing to fear if the crowd got out of control. They had full license to defend themselves and the headquarters by any means with the full legal backing of Solaris Industries. Saudia had no doubt two or three Solaris guards could handle this crowd with the right equipment, let alone twelve. Not to mention that the building security included deployable turrets in the event of an emergency.

She decided going along the far side would attract the least amount of attention so she carefully made her way around the shouting crowd and approached the guard. “Authorized personnel only,” he told her as she approached.

“Saudia Vyandar,” she answered, looking him in the eyes. “I’m expected.”

His eyes widened, but otherwise didn’t react. She admired his control. “Apologies, Director,” he greeted, inclining his head. “You may enter. Do you require an escort?”

“I’ll manage,” she shook her head, eying the crowd going more agitated. “Besides, you have enough to deal with.”

The barest glimmer of a smile crossed his lips. “I would be more concerned for their safety, Director. If they continue to grow and think they have a numbers advantage, we’ll have to put a few more down.”

“Then for their sake, I hope they calm down,” she muttered, looking into the crowd. “Might I ask what brought this about?”

“Oh this?” He shrugged. “It wasn’t a shooting this time, believe it or not. Solaris Industries made an arrangement with the State of Washington to provide the state police with equipment and weapons. There’s talk that if it proceeds without incident, we might be providing weapons to the police on a national scale.”

Saudia frowned. “Why is that an issue?”

He looked at her, frowning. “The situation isn’t quite as simple as you think. I believe Matthew will be able to explain the situation better. He knows more about it than me.”

Saudia nodded. “I will. What is your name?”

“Brandon Solaris, Director.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you, Brandon. Matthew will hear of your service.”

“Thank you, Director,” he answered with a simple nod. “May your meeting be productive.”

With that she walked into the building. The reception area was standard, tile floors with marble tables and desks resting on top. There was some furniture in the lobby, but nothing she really felt the need to examine closely. Very little manufacturing took place here and was instead mostly used for administrative purposes, but she knew Matthew had several floors dedicated to research and development.

But she figured he would be in his office and headed to the elevator that would take her there. He'd put it at the very top, so it was several minutes before she finally arrived. Stepping out into the carpeted hallway, she tried recalling the way. Yes, directly at the end if she was remembering correctly.

Matthew had made his office take up about half the floor, though admittedly, only a fraction was actually “office” space. He’d essentially made his house here and the rest of the space included a bedroom, bathroom and a small kitchen. So she approached the entrance rather quickly.

As was expected for the owner of such a large corporation, there was a desk in front of the door, though no receptionist at present. Instead, guarding the door was a woman in full Solaris combat attire. Black Kevlar-padded pants and a combat vest and boots, her attire was similar to that of the American SWAT troopers. The black bulletproof shield resting on her back only reinforced that image.

A Solaris-issue assault rifle was held in her gauntlets and Saudia noted several knives and a pistol strapped to her belt. Though she lacked a helmet, her piercing gaze was enough to give would-be intruders second thoughts if not stop them outright. She wasn’t overly tall like Saudia, but of an average height.

The white lighting illuminated her alabaster skin and raven hair even more. Despite her demeanor, she did have a kind face behind her foreboding weaponry. Bright eyes, unblemished skin and her lips that showed dimples whenever she smiled contrasted with the woman in combat gear.

She noticed her approaching and relaxed a bit. “Director, welcome,” she greeted, her accent betraying her English origins.

“Hello to your too, Lidia,” Saudia returned with a smile. Lidia Solaris, Head of Solaris Industry Security, former SWAT officer and wife of Matthew Solaris inclined her head in response.

“Matthew is inside,” she told Saudia, turning to open the door. “I presume you know the way to his study?”

“Door on the left, correct?” She recalled.

“Correct,” Lidia confirmed. “I will ensure neither of you are disturbed.”

“I appreciate that,” Saudia thanked, then paused. She probably wouldn’t have much time to speak afterwards.  “How are the children?”

“Excellent,” Lidia answered, actually displaying her beautiful smile. “Both are down in the testing range with some prototypes. Both are becoming quite proficient with them.”

“Taking after their mother,” Saudia complemented with a smile. “You should be proud.”

“I am,” Lidia answered, adjusting the grip on her rifle. “Although I do think Riley is more interested in the business side of things. Matthew and I’ve been talking of including her in the business more.”

“If you think she can handle it, let her,” Saudia suggested. “Never too young to start.”

“That’s where we’re at,” Lidia agreed with a nod. “But we’ll see.”

“Well, I suppose I should speak to Matthew now,” Saudia said reluctantly. “But it was nice to chat for a bit.”

“It was,” Lidia agreed, resigned. “Sadly, our duty comes first. Hopefully once we remove XCOM and the aliens, things will calm down.”

That was the hope, though even with XCOM and the aliens gone, they’d still have to reestablish control over the rest of the world. A task that would likely end up being even more time consuming. Well, they had a lot to do before even beginning to consider that. Saudia walked into the official office and took the first door on the left.

It opened to reveal the study of Matthew Solaris and where he conducted the majority of his true work. It was very lavish, with ornamented carpets, drapes and furniture. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall, though a good portion of the shelves were empty. He never added a book unless he’d fully read it and liked it. Naturally, this resulted in the majority of books being fiction or documents on the history of EXALT.

A holotable sat in the middle of the room, Matthew standing beside it, looking down at what was displayed. Across from him, on the non-bookshelf side were several large screens displaying either information or American news channels. All were muted at the moment as Matthew had his attention elsewhere.

As she got closer, she saw the holotable was displaying a map of the United States, different states variously colored for some reason. Matthew turned as she approached and smiled. “Director!” He greeted jovially. “Glad you made it.”

“I wasn’t sure,” she joked as she walked up beside him. “You have quite a crowd outside.”

He snorted good-naturedly. “A nuisance, consisting of well-intentioned, but ultimately wrong people. Fortunately, their resolve crumbles when confronted by the opposite side. I’ll go out later and calm them down.” His lips curled into a satisfying smile. “I do wonder how they’ll treat me after actually speaking to me.”

Saudia shook her head. “So tell me, what’s going on? One of your people, Brandon, told me a bit but said I should speak to you.”

“This particular situation stems from the deal Solaris Industries just signed,” Matthew answered, rubbing his forehead. “I presume Brandon told you?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Though it seems an odd issue to be protesting.”

“It would be, but you haven’t visited the states in a while,” Matthew agreed, shaking his head. “Though the reason this all started was a string of instances of police officers shooting unarmed, or surrendering suspects. Most of them were minorities and that alone stirred people into a frenzy. Several went viral on various social media sites and within days thousands of people are calling for justice for the slain victims.”

Saudia frowned, glancing over at Matthew. “Isn’t that a bit premature? Especially if the source is social media?”

“Where any clip can be made to fit an agenda? Of course,” Matthew agreed with a nod. “But these people aren’t thinking rationally or clearly. They watch the clip of someone getting shot and automatically make snap judgments. Some of the clips were legitimate, and some were either edited severely or taken _way_ out of context. The end result is America now has a large and vocal group that despises the police and believes they’re racists, and they’re joined by the growing group calling for police demilitarization.”

Well this was interesting. “They don’t want police to have access to military equipment?”

“Nope, or any other sort of advanced weaponry” Matthew sighed. “But what they fail to realize is that this isn’t the 1950’s. The small-town neighborhood cop doesn’t exist anymore. Police exist to enforce the law, not to make friends. Times have become more dangerous and as weapons and technology advance, the police must adapt as well,” He laced his fingers together. “Personally, I think it’s mostly fear; they don’t like people in authority being more dangerous than them.”

“I assume there’s another side to this?” Saudia asked, looking down at the holotable. “The pro-police side or some such equivalent?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew confirmed, crossing his arms in resignation. “This larger issue here is that the neutral ground is quickly fading. Both sides are drawing lines that don’t leave much room for talking or compromise. I’ve stayed neutral so far, but I’ve got a lot of pressure from both sides simply because of my position.”

She knew he was telling the truth. If there was anyone who embodied neutrality, at least publicly, it was Matthew and Solaris Industries. Unlike most weapons manufacturers, his political affiliations were surprisingly bipartisan. He had surprised the media by being the only national weapons manufacturer not to become affiliated with the NRA and the Republican Party. Several times he’d backed legislation which he felt, and publically stated, was necessary and smart.

He’d built himself up as a voice of reason, a man willing to see both sides of an issue and made frequent appearances on various media outlets to give his opinion on various issues he was involved in. Although he never forgot the overarching goal of EXALT, she was aware of his much smaller goal: he wanted to supplement the NRA as the most influential voice of the gun lobby.

He personally despised the organization with a passion, and at least according to what she’d seen, he was well on his way to replacing them. The NRA had hated being publically refused, of course and had launched a smear campaign to discredit him. An incredibly foolish move, as they had no clue who they ended up dealing with.

Together with Elizabeth, Matthew had ensured that the organization’s corruption was brought to light and had emerged with more political influence than ever. The NRA still existed, of course, but they’d ended their crusade on him and now mostly pretended Solaris Industries didn’t exist. And now, as Matthew was the only one even sort of willing to compromise on weapon legislation, he had the attention, if not support of the Democratic Party, as well as the more moderate elements of the Republicans who were thankful to have an alternative.

She was once again thankful he’d declined to participate in the _Rex Fecit_ when her predecessor had resigned and instead stated he wanted to focus on increasing EXALT’s influence over North America. She’d have hated to kill or discredit him, if she’d been able to at all. Matthew, along with Elizabeth, were the only two within EXALT who she felt would have been able to beat her for the position of Director.

But luckily, neither of them had decided to take part, letting their brothers and sisters try for the position of Director. Had the families not been forbidden from intermarrying, she was positive that she’d have chosen him as her husband. He was principled, intelligent and above all, believed fully in the goals of EXALT. Though if she had, she’d never have gotten to know Ethan and that would be an even greater loss. Regardless, Lidia was a lucky woman.

This issue regarding the police was interesting, but there was one question she had. “Why is this getting traction now?” She demanded. “I’d have thought an alien invasion would limit this sort of public unrest.”

“Simply put, because they have yet to feel the effects of an alien attack,” Matthew explained. “They’ve been spared major attacks so this whole issue is…I don’t want to say a _foreign_ affair, but it’s the best description of their outlook.” His lips curled up. “It also helped reassure the people that the situation was under control when Germany beat back the alien influence and the alien dreadnought was destroyed.”

He looked back at the holotable. “Another reason is that this was a growing issue long before the aliens invaded in the first place. You really think people are just going to forget their cause and put their differences aside because our survival of a species is at stake?”

It was depressing how accurate that actually was. “Maybe?” She muttered hopefully. Well, that answer did make sense, somewhat. Another example of how the average human was driven by emotion, not reason. “Back to the issue at hand, I presume that the Republicans and Democrats have aligned predictably?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew sighed, his lips curling into an unamused smile. “And with the recent string of shootings, the majority of Democrats want to increase gun regulations and completely overhaul the way the police conduct themselves. The Republicans haven’t really made things better by flatly siding with the police in all instances and ignoring the issues that _are_ present within the system. Let alone actually trying to reach a compromise on gun legislation.”

Saudia frowned. “How many shootings have happened?”

“Enough to cause a public outcry,” Matthew explained, tapping several buttons on the holotable and the holographic headlines appeared by her. “Three in particular have stood out. The first was the massacre of a church in North Carolina. The entire congregation was essentially wiped out in a rather impressive coordinated attack,” he pursed his lips. “The final death toll was one hundred-thirty-seven.”

“That’s terrible,” Saudia sighed sadly. “But if it was coordinated…?”

“They were ex-Cartel,” Matthew answered grimly. “I’m assuming they betrayed the Cartel and decided to go out in a suicide-by-cop way than face the Cartel’s retribution,” his tone hardened. “All of them were killed.”

“Unfortunate,” Saudia stated grimly. “They might have provided us with information.”

“Perhaps,” Matthew’s dark tone didn’t diminish. “Though I would have ensured their death one way or another.”

“And the others?” Saudia pressed, looking at the headlines.

“The Disney shooting followed,” Matthew explained. “A woman somehow smuggled an assault weapon up to the ticket booths and started opening fire. Thirty died and a whole host were injured,” he began tapping the holotable absentmindedly. “She was a former employee, so the accepted reasoning is revenge, though very poorly executed. She was captured and is currently on trial.”

“Are you planning on getting involved?” Saudia asked.

“She used a Solaris rifle,” Matthew stated grimly. “I’ve already publically given my statement of sympathy and at the same time encouraged a fair trial,” the ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Privately, I’m going to ensure she gets the death penalty.”

Saudia frowned. “Are you certain she wasn’t mentally insane when she did this? The courts won’t give the death penalty if she is.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Matthew told her his tone artificially light, walking over to his desk and pulled out a file. “Fortunately, I know quite a few doctors who are willing to take the stand and ensure any insanity plea fails. And in the event that it doesn’t…” he shrugged. “Accidents happen in prison and there are many who would do what the courts are too cowardly to carry out.”

She understood the sentiment, even if she personally considered it harsh. “I’m sure life in prison is harsh enough,” she said, not quite willing to completely endorse him.

“For you, perhaps,” he answered, shaking his head. “Anyway, the latest shooting was in response to an instance where two police officers shooting four unarmed African-Americans in Texas. In that instance, the police were completely at fault and were arrested,” he rested his chin on his fist. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough for some people. A group of four African-Americans responded by going into one of the wealthier districts and shooting anyone they could. It was another well-planned attack and one that had clearly been in the works for some time. A daycare was shot up along with several families murdered. The final death toll was fifty-five.”

Saudia felt immense sadness at that. “Who were they?” She finally asked.

“They were part of a small black supremacist group,” Matthew explained shaking his head. “I hadn’t honestly considered them a legitimate threat until it happened. A mistake I won’t repeat.”

“Were they killed as well?”

“Yeah,” Matthew sighed. “But what really made the news was how the police responded. That black supremacist group no longer exists. They arrested nearly everyone and shot the rest. This was done in conjunction with the National Guard as well.”

“The President had to have authorized it then,” Saudia noted. “That could backfire.”

“The dear Madam President is not exactly concerned with political opinion at this point,” Matthew pointed out grimly. “She’s more focused on doing what she believes is right. A shame she had to be the President now when we’re finally making moves. I rather liked her.”

“So was there fallout?” Saudia asked.

“Not as much as you would think,” Matthew answered. “Though it didn’t help race relations much. A good portion of the black community wasn’t happy with the so-called “Pre-emptive attack.”

“So,” Saudia walked around the table until she was facing him. “The big question: How can we use this?”

“I suppose that is that is a valid question,” Matthew answered humorously. “But yes, there are several ways we can take advantage. I said we have a chance to take control of America and I was serious. Now, that is truer of one path than another.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow curiously. “Explain.”

“There are two paths open to us,” Matthew explained, shutting off the holograms displaying the headlines and replaced with images of people who she was unfamiliar with. “Both hinge on the upcoming presidential election. Campaigning will begin in the coming months and both sides are outlining their respective agendas.”

“The election itself isn’t until next year, correct?” Saudia recalled, looking at the pictures. “This seems early, even for American politics.”

“Because it is,” Matthew agreed. “It can mostly be attributed to the leadership in both parties despising President Treduant. The Democrats dislike her for obvious reasons and the Republicans feel her administration has been damaging to the party as a whole. Since she’s also begun ignoring the Republican leadership, it’s only distanced her more. They were lucky she agreed not to run for reelection.”

“Hmm,” Saudia pondered that. “What’s your impression of her? Would she be useful to us?”

“Nicole Treduant is someone who sadly wouldn’t be interested in our goals,” Matthew answered sadly. “Our influence on her has been limited simply because she is more personally driven than most presidents. But her authority is quickly fading and I suggest we move onto more promising subjects.”

“Noted,” Saudia nodded. “You have people scoped out?”

“Of course,” Matthew looked slightly miffed that she even asked that question. “There are five candidates, two Democrat and three Republican who I believe have the best chance.”

He raised a finger. “But first, I’d better explain the paths open to us. The alien invasion is going to be a central campaign issue, one both sides will try to say they’ll handle better than the opposition. The Republicans are going to push this as far as they can; the Democrats will make it central point as well, though I feel they can be influenced to focus more on domestic issues.”

He looked at her. “So, the decision the must be made is what kind of America will be most useful to us. Our alliance with the aliens will not last and when we make our move, it would be best if we were as ready as possible to repel them.”

He began pacing. “A Republican presidency would mean a more stable America, militarily, and allow a more coordinated defense of the aliens. I also see potential for the introduction of more authoritarian measures. Which would make it easier for the populace to transition when we assume control of the country.”

“I doubt the public would like that,” Saudia commented. “Americans in particular are rather finicky when it comes to their freedoms, even when it’s for their own good. Although,” she looked up in thought. “Fear is a powerful motivator.”

“That it is,” Matthew agreed, eyes twinkling. “And with an increase in attacks on American cities, I’d imagine people would be willing to give up some freedoms for additional security. Temporarily, of course.”

She smiled as she saw what he meant. “I’d imagine the aliens would see the benefit of striking one of the most powerful nations. Though I expect there’s a downside here.”

“We wouldn’t exert as much influence as I’d like,” Matthew admitted, frowning down at the holotable. “Bringing the country fully under our control would take much longer. Potentially years.”

“Why longer?” She asked. “Would it not be similar with a Democratic presidency?”

“Not if things go according to plan,” Matthew answered. “Because instead of focusing the election on the invasion, we turn it towards domestic issues. Police brutality, gun control, degrading race relations, states’ rights, those sort of issues. People are emotionally charged now and we can take full advantage of that.”

“By making things worse.” Saudia stated, getting an idea what his plan was.

“Exactly,” Matthew nodded, sounding satisfied. “We push further. Instigate more domestic terrorism, engineer more police shootings which will lead to riots and violent protests. All we need is to get people angry enough.”

There was merit in this idea. “We’ll have to pick our targets carefully,” she warned. “How sure are you that this would work?”

“As an experiment, I decided to stage one of these shootings,” Matthew explained wryly. “Elizabeth was a great help here. She made it look very convincing; anyway, I released it to the larger social media sites and lo and behold, everyone acted exactly as predicted. Soon the majority of the internet was calling for the head of this fictional officer. It was rather amusing to watch the absolute silence that followed once it was revealed it was fake.”

“I feel it would be more convincing if it was real,” Saudia muttered, crossing her arms. “Real bodies have a greater impact.”

“That they do,” Matthew agreed. “And no fear. I knew enough people to ensure that these continue happening. Those targeting minorities are the most impactful.”

“If we’re looking for more violent protests, which is the most militant?” She asked.

“The black community for sure,” Matthew answered firmly. “They’d be the easiest to use. They’re far more willing to take action than the Hispanic or Asian communities; they’d also get support from the anti-police groups as well.”

“So how is mass chaos going to ensure we control America?” Saudia demanded, crossing her arms.

“Simply put, as long as the aliens avoid America and the domestic situation worsens, that should be enough to put a Democrat in charge,” Matthew continued. “And we get someone elected who will do whatever it took to fix the situation. And to make any _meaningful_ change, they would have to either amend the constitution or use executive orders.”

“Something that I don’t imagine would go over very well.” Saudia muttered.

“Ah, but that’s exactly the point,” Matthew explained with a smile. “Ideally, by this point America should be heavily divided and charged. Neutrality doesn’t exist and half of the people demand change, the others demand things stay the same. Both sides double down on their agendas no matter how right or wrong they are.”

“And if the president uses executive orders to force change…” Saudia murmured, beginning to see where he was going.

“…For example, to gut the police, military or amend and infringe on the second amendment, then people get angry,” Matthew finished, looking satisfied. “And imagine more orders were passed, those further infringing on the rights of states. Not only would the Republican governors protest, but I can see several Democratic states having issues as well.”

Saudia raised a hand. “You’ve built this up long enough. Get to the point.”

“It’s quite simple,” Matthew answered, inclining his head. “Play our cards right and we could force a second American civil war.”

Saudia blinked in surprise. “You honestly believe that’s possible.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Matthew confirmed. “Though it would admittedly take far more work and resources. But if it succeeds, we can shape the victors into the country _we_ want America to be and not work within the confines of the system in place.”

Something like that would be among the largest operations in EXALT history. Yet she had several reservations; they couldn’t afford to pour almost all their resources into an operation on this scale and deal with the rest of the world. Not to mention there was a decent chance that this might not even work out as well as Matthew was hoping.

But the biggest issue for her was that this could potentially be a multi-year operation and she was fairly certain at that point that their alliance with the aliens would come to an end. In the scenario, a more unified America worked in their favor more than a divided one.

“It’s ambitious,” Saudia finally said. “Before I comment, I’d like to know your opinion.”

“That largely depends on time,” Matthew answered, observing the holotable. “I see little that could be done to speed up the elections, so we have a minimum of a year before we see any substantial progress. Thinking long-term, ensuring a Democratic president will allow us unprecedented control. But then we run into issues if our alliance falters or XCOM interferes further. In that case a Republican presidency would be preferable, and would ensure we retain some control if our plans for the aliens are disrupted.”

Saudia nodded. “I don’t think we can afford to wait years, much as it would benefit us. The world is changing daily and the aliens won’t play by our rules willingly. We have to think towards the coming war, we can ensure control of America once the aliens are defeated.”

“Then a Republican president it is,” Matthew stated with a nod. “With that out of the way, we must choose a candidate to support.”

“Who do we have?” Saudia asked as Matthew pulled up the portraits of the candidates.

“Former Navy Admiral Jonas Mallik,” Matthew began, indicating an older man with a white beard and hair. “Out of our options, he is by far the most predictable. The alien invasion is the issue he’s pushed the most and painted himself as the only one with the experience and resolve to defend America.”

“Any issues or is he just a generic candidate?” Saudia asked, appraising the picture.

“He’s a single issue candidate,” Matthew explained. “Depending on who you ask, that’s a good or bad thing. He’s iffy on much policy outside of military. But as alien attacks increase across America, I think that people would be more willing to overlook his lack of domestic policy.” He smiled. “Which gives us the opportunity to put people in his inner circle to shape it for him.”

“Can he appeal to a broader demographic than just military and Republicans?” Saudia asked.

“Not really, and that’s probably his greatest weakness,” Matthew admitted. “He’s not exactly diplomatic or open to negotiation, something else that is either a strength or weakness depending on who you ask. Our job would essentially painting him as the lesser evil to the Democrats and Independents.”

“But he would militarily be the best option?” Saudia asked.

“Not in terms of strict military use,” Matthew amended. “He would very much follow the rules of engagement and Geneva Conventions. No, I’d say that he’d be the easiest to _control_.”

“Which could be useful later,” Saudia nodded, liking the options already. “Who’s next?”

“Kerry Valdez,” Matthew continued, nodding towards a middle-aged Hispanic man with graying black hair. “Former governor of Georgia. A well-spoken and seemingly reasonable man who never really causes much controversy.”

Saudia cocked her head. “ _Seemingly_ reasonable?”

“He’s…hmm, how do I put this,” Matthew paused dramatically. “He’s a fanatic. Sort of. A Christian fundamentalist with some rather outdated societal views. You’d never tell it from the way he speaks, but listen to what he’s saying and it’s clear he considers himself some kind of messenger sent from God himself to _fix_ things.”

Saudia grimaced. “So he’s a self-righteous, well-spoken politician. Wonderful.”

“Now, now,” Matthew chided lightly. “ _All_ politicians are self-righteous. Hell, both parties are incredibly self-righteous about their beliefs. Trust me,” he smiled in self-deprecation. “After receiving calls telling me to kill myself simply because of what I do, I can assure you that self-righteousness exists beyond Christian fundamentalists.”

“True, true,” she agreed, shaking her head. Even if African politics were arguably more corrupt, they seemed more honest than what took place here. At least politicians in Africa didn’t bother to hide that they were corrupt. “So, what advantage does he give us?”

“Militarily, he’s the best option,” Matthew explained. “I firmly believe he’ll do whatever it takes to defend America and if we can control several of his Christian advisors, we will probably have a decent hold on policy. Though in his case, I suspect we’ll have to rely on Congress to ensure that his proposals don’t cause too much damage.”

“So who is the third option?” Saudia asked.

“I think you’ve heard of her, actually,” Matthew said, focusing on the third picture. “Kamili Rono.”

Ah yes, she had heard of the Kenyan immigrant. The young diplomat had gained a reputation from participating in dozens of humanitarian projects, UN sponsored and otherwise. Interesting that she’d taken up politics, though it made sense. She could only do so much as one person, influence over a country would open up many more doors.

“What does she offer?” Saudia asked.

“Unity,” Matthew answered instantly. “She would be a mediator and has the best chance to firmly unite the country than all of them. She’s an excellent speaker who appeals to virtually all demographics. Provided we remove Democrat competition, I predict that she’d win by a landslide, maybe even without our intervention.”

“Though I doubt she’d be the strongest in regards to military action,” Saudia wondered. “She’s stated she’s a pacifist.”

“Which is a major issue,” Matthew agreed. “She’d reluctantly use military force, but it would be limited and she’s driven by her conscience and what’s best for the people. Admirable traits, but ones that don’t serve us at the moment.”

“How much could we influence?” Saudia asked.

“We could certainly get people into her inner circle,” Matthew stated grimly. “Though beyond that…she’s very stubborn and would likely dismiss most of what we’d suggest. I honestly see her as a candidate ripe for direct control. She’d be an excellent figurehead, but won’t serve us well on her own.”

“Direct control is risky,” Saudia warned. “Especially if she goes public with the threats or bribes. I believe she has the courage to do that.”

“I suppose that depends on how much we could dig up on her,” Matthew shrugged. “Make it convincing enough and she won’t talk.”

Saudia nodded. As much as she liked Kamili, she was simply too weak and uncompromising to be useful to them. Matthew was right in that she’d be an excellent figurehead, but utilizing direct control was a last resort, and they had other options. “We should use Jonas Mallik,” she told him. “He’s the most moderate of the bunch and most easily manipulated. That will serve our purposes well.”

He nodded. “It will be done, Director. Work will begin on removing the other candidates from contention.”

“And how are you planning to do that?” She asked, curious.

“For the Democrats, I believe several scandals on the various candidates will erode support for the party,” Matthew answered, waving a dismissive hand. “Money laundering, bribery. Oh, and sexual assault, can’t forget that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You have something like that?”

“Oh, I’m sure it exists,” he amended. “But I don’t even need evidence to make it happen. All it takes these days is the _allegation_ and the supposed victim coming forward with her story. Plays right into people’s emotions; stirs them right up. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, and it’s not difficult to get women to come forward for compensation.”

It was a sound plan. Matthew understood the political and social atmosphere of America better than her, so she’d defer to his judgement. “And the Republican opponents?”

“Hmm,” he looked at her. “I’d preferably require your assistance with that. Simply because it would be better if they died. No need to cause scandals that damage the party and it’s prudent to build sympathy instead. I suspect our alien friends would be useful.”

“That they would be,” Saudia agreed, thinking further. “I expect you to forward all relevant information to pass along.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged, inclining his head. “And one more thing before we conclude this excellent meeting.” He walked over to his table and grabbed a tablet. “I’ve found someone that you, and Darian, might want to consider recruiting.” He handed it over after pulling up some information.

She looked over the profile. A recent African-American graduate, a geneticist it seemed, who was an expert by all accounts. His young but stern face indicated professionalism, though he seemed a bit stiff from the picture, unsmiling and his glasses and bald head didn’t exactly make him look more inviting. “Richard Tygan,” she said out loud. “Never heard of him. You think he could be recruited?”

“Yes,” Matthew nodded easily. “I’d imagine he’d jump at the chance to examine alien technology and help us immensely in applying it. He’s younger and impressionable, so I think there’s a good chance we could mold him into a model EXALT scientist.”

Saudia nodded and put the tablet down. “I’ll speak to Darian. Thank you, Matthew.”

“My pleasure,” he answered with a smile. “Have an excellent flight back. Even if America does not come completely under our control, I’ll ensure we direct its future.”

“One more thing,” she said, raising her hand. Her tone hardening. “These anti-police demonstrations? I want them brought under control. If we’re going to have a united America, I’d rather you get started now.”

“Can do,” he assured her. “How do you want me to handle it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Simple, in these shootings, determine the guilt or innocence of the officers implicated. If they are innocent, back them and release proof. If not, ensure they are convicted.”

“I can do that,” Matthew answered, pursing his lips. “But that process does take time and it might not completely remove the protesters, no matter how much evidence is shown.”

“Then discredit them,” Saudia ordered. “Plant people within the crowds to disrupt them. Expose their leaders as criminals or worse. But I want civilian casualties kept to a minimum,” she paused. “But if it becomes necessary…do whatever you have to.”

“Noted,” he nodded. “I should probably be able to do it without resorting to assassination.”

“Good,” she stated, turning around. “And I want these supremacist groups gone. All of them.”

She could hear the confusion in his voice. “Which ones?”

“ _All_ of them,” she emphasized, her tone turning to steel. “I don’t care what race they are. The world has moved beyond them and their kind only encourages division and hate. They are no longer afforded the protection of civilian status. They are to be considered criminal agitators and must be purged.”

She turned around to Matthew. “Understand?”

He swallowed and she understood why. Stripping a non-militant group of civilian status within EXALT was rarely done, and even less so when said group was not _directly_ interfering with EXALT. But she figured this qualified, and would remove some of the worst of humanity in the process. Their archaic mindsets had no place in the modern world and it was time for that to chance. America would not mourn their deaths and neither would the world.

There were bigger issues to deal with.

“Understood, Director,” he affirmed firmly.

“It must be permanent,” Saudia emphasized. “Use legal means if you wish, but I’m sure Zara and Elizabeth would appreciate the diversion.”

“I was thinking the same.” He answered, inclining his head in deference. “It will be done.”

“Farewell,” she said, walking away. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

She the left, leaving him to start the process of deciding the next president of the United States.

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center._

_“A shame you took the easy route,”_ the hologram of Zara said as she shook her head. Garbed in the same gear as the meeting, the only difference between the meeting then and now was the slight shimmer around her, betraying that she was just a hologram.

The room was designed in such a way that the participants in the meeting were tracked and their images streamed to whoever they were communicating with. The result was participates could have a meeting or discussion almost exactly like in person. It was one piece of technology Saudia especially loved.

“It would have taken too much time,” Saudia defended, as Zara paced back and forth. She’d expected Zara to not approve of her decision, but she’d listen to reason eventually. “I don’t imagine our alliance with the aliens will last years.”

_“A challenge I and my soldiers are unafraid of,_ ” Zara snorted. _“But in terms of pure practicality, I see your point.”_

“I’m glad you think so,” Saudia answered, relieved. “Had we more time, I would have done it differently.”

_“A shame regardless,”_ Zara muttered. _“I would have loved to disrupt the complacency within that corrupt country. It needs to be rebuilt from the bottom up.”_

“Something that I saw plainly over there,” Saudia sighed. “As much as I dislike violent revolutions, one may be necessary for America in the future.”

_“It is mandatory,”_ Zara hissed. _“Not just for America. You are only prolonging the problem. Once this war is over, America will revert to what it is now.”_

“We shall cross that bridge when we arrive,” Saudia told her. “Besides, there are far less stable countries than America that we must deal with first.”

_“Agreed, and I doubt you’ll be doing anything about them anytime soon,”_ Zara accused, crossing her arms. _“Yes, yes, I know you have specific plans. But it is aggravating.”_

“Not everything can be solved by war,” Saudia reminded her tiredly. “Violent revolution only works in the short term.”

_“Who said anything about revolution?”_ Zara asked. _“You know my stance. The Middle East must be purged. Completely.”_

Saudia sighed. That particular opinion was one _very_ unpopular within EXALT as it was insulting, sloppy and simply _wrong_. No country or government was beyond salvaging; sure, it would take time, resources and money, but it could be done. Zara personally saw little point in trying to execute plans that took years or decades and preferred a more direct approach.

Granted, she had spent more time in that region than Saudia and the things she’d seen had convinced her that the region was beyond saving. And when Zara meant _purge_ she meant the elimination of everyone there. She felt the _culture_ needed to be destroyed, not just the people. And that was something Saudia would not consider if there were other options.

The majority of deaths in a purge would be innocents, and that was unacceptable to her. She could live with a few necessary deaths, but only as a last resort. Within EXALT itself, if an operation took the lives of people outside the designated mission parameters, it indicated a lack of precision or just plain sloppiness.

It was a more personal reason why she’d ultimately decided against Matthew’s alternate plan. More innocent people would have undoubtable been hurt as a result of their actions and that would have been a personal disappointment for her. But had that been the more practical route, she would have taken it.

She’d done her best to keep civilian casualties to a minimum within her time as Director, but it was difficult sometimes. She figured that more hard decisions were coming the further the war persisted. In the meantime, Zara had to redirect her passion and anger into something productive.

“That’s not going to happen, Zara,” she stated firmly. “But we’ve talked enough about America. I think it’s time to draw XCOM out.”

_“Excellent,”_ Zara grinned. _“I look forward to it. Your plan?”_

“It’s time to start weakening the Cartels,” Saudia told her. “Matthew has given me the location of a town controlled by them. We’ll lead the aliens to it for them to do as they please. XCOM learns of the abductions and goes to investigate. Then you strike.”

_“Sounds like a plan,”_ Zara nodded eagerly, the beginnings of bloodlust in her eyes. _“Have you informed our alien friends?”_

“I’m going to do that in a few minutes,” Saudia told her. “I think it would be best if they know you’ll be taking point.”

_“Ah, so I’ll get to meet this Speaker,”_ Zara grimaced. _“Wonderful.”_

“Behave,” Saudia told her sternly. “We can’t afford to make them suspicious.”

_“Yeah, yeah,”_ Zara waved absentmindedly. _“Don’t worry. I’ll play the submissive human. “Yes, alien overlords, whatever you wish.” “Yes, death to all XCOM. Grr.””_

Saudia smirked at her really awful imitation. “At least try to be subtle. Standing there looking foreboding will do the trick.”

Zara laughed. _“Oh, please. Even I know I don’t look that intimidating.”_

“Then just stand there and look pretty,” Saudia chuckled. “Maybe he’ll be distracted.”

_“Shut up,”_ Zara shivered, looking at her, frowning. _“You don’t actually think…”_

“Only one way to find out,” she teased, enjoying her discomfort far more than she should.

Zara narrowed her eyes. _“You play seductress with the alien, Director. If that thing looks at me like that I’ll castrate it and-“_

“I’m sure you will,” Saudia chuckled. “I’m setting up the call now.”

Zara quieted down as the call went through. A few minutes later the image of the Speaker of the Elders materialized into the doppelganger, unchanged from their last meeting.

_“Director,”_ he greeted in his oily voice, inclining his head respectfully. _“I trust all is well?”_

“At the moment, Speaker,” she returned with a nod of her own. “I presume things are proceeding well on your end.”

_“As the Elders will it,”_ he answered smoothly. _“I presume you’ve begun to adapt our technology for your own use?”_

“We are,” she confirmed. “And beginning to make great progress.”

He clasped his hands together and displayed an eerie smile that was disturbingly human. _“That is excellent to hear. Please, let us know if you require further assistance.”_

They were still keeping up the overly helpful act. An interesting tactic, and didn’t exactly encourage respect for the alien’s leadership. There was no way they could be this naïve. Whatever, she’d exploit this as best she could. “I’m pleased you accepted our call,” she told the Speaker. “In fact, I believe it is time to begin operations against XCOM.”

The Speaker grew serious, his face reverting to a neutral expression that seemed distinctly _alien_. The way his features contorted gave the impression of someone pretending to be human rather than a displaying the emotion itself. Even if she’d seen it before, it was still disconcerting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zara stiffen.

_“State your plan,”_ the Speaker almost ordered, the pleasantness gone from his voice. _“We are listening.”_

Interesting choice of words. Not that she was surprised the Speaker wasn’t alone. “We have a location that we feel is useful to you. A small town filled with an above-average count of healthy human subjects. These people are troublemakers and criminals and you would be doing a favor by removing these criminals and acquiring additional test subjects for your own usage.”

_“There is wisdom in that,”_ the Speaker nodded. _“Very well. We will strike this town and that should be enough to draw XCOM out. What do you propose then?”_

“A strike team will be waiting,” Saudia answered, motioning Zara forward. “This is Zara Venator, Head of the Venator Family and Overseer of Australia as well as the military arm of EXALT. She will be in charge of the ambush.”

_“A pleasure to meet you_ ,” the alien said smoothly with a smile. _“Though I must warn you that XCOM soldiers are unlike any you have faced before.”_

_“My soldiers have toppled governments, started revolutions and ended them as quickly,”_ Zara stated coldly. _“We are more than capable of dealing with the soldiers of a United Nations organization. Rest assured, Speaker, you have nothing to fear.”_

She wished Zara hadn’t responded so aggressively to the aliens warning, a warning she felt was perfectly fine, but Zara didn’t like people (or aliens) even suggesting that she wasn’t up for the task. Fortunately, the Speaker didn’t seem offended. _“Then we look forward to your victory, Overseer Venator.”_

_“The first of many,”_ Zara added. _“XCOM will fall before us.”_

_“We will then inform you when we intend to strike,”_ the Speaker told them. _“It will be within the next few days.”_

“Excellent,” Saudia told him. “We look forward to continued cooperation.”

_“As do we, Director,”_ the Speaker clasped his hands behind his back and nodded towards her once. _“May your victories be swift,”_ the ghost of a smile crossed his face. _“We will be watching.”_

She wasn’t quite able to keep a straight face as she heard those words. The hologram vanished and those ominous words lingered in her ear. The fact that they’d chosen those words hadn’t been an accident and would know what they meant to her.

Perhaps they weren’t as naïve as she thought.

_“Rather blunt,”_ Zara commented, looking at the place the Speaker had been staring. _“That whole performance is just an act. They think they are superior to us and only give the illusion of cooperation.”_

“Of course they do,” Saudia sighed. “But we can work with condescension. It’ll make the day we remove them from this Earth much sweeter.”

_“That it will,”_ Zara agreed. _“I’ll await your orders, Director. In the meantime, I’ve got soldiers to prepare.”_

“As you were,” Saudia nodded towards her. “I’ll be in contact.”

_“I’ll be waiting. Zara, out.”_

The hologram vanished, leaving her alone. Turning on her heel, she began heading for her room. While she had some time, it might be a good idea to look into this “Richard Tygan.” The faster they learned the secrets of the aliens, the better.

***

_The Bastion, Subject Cells_

How many days had it been?

A few hours? A week?

Annette didn’t know anymore. Any semblance of time had been torn apart as whoever was keeping her began intermittently cutting off the lights at odd times. The blackouts sometimes lasted hours, other times minutes. Although she couldn’t even rely on her perception of time anymore since she _knew_ they were pumping drugs into her cell.

That had _almost_ been as terrifying as the voices; knowing she was helpless to resist whatever they decided to use on her. She’d been terrified recently that her feelings weren’t her own and instead were the result of some chemicals. As a result, she’d tried focused exclusively on keeping calm, no matter what she was feeling.

There hadn’t been any more episodes. _Psionics_ is what they were called, apparently. Whatever, it didn’t explain anything and she didn’t want to keep being triggered on the whims of some scientists.

But she’d come close. Very, very close.

The first experience she’d been aware of had been pleasant, as it was intended to be, she supposed. She’d felt oddly _happy_ and had stumbled around the cell with a ridiculous smile on her face, giggling like she was a teen again. She’d remembered happier times, times of childhood, family and friendship. Stuff she hadn’t thought about in years.

They must have figured out happiness wasn’t going to be a good trigger and they stopped whatever they were doing and reality came back to her. There weren’t many side effects this time, especially since she hadn’t used her powers, but she’d still been terrified of how easily it was to send someone into a state like that.

_Calm_. She had to stay calm and not submit to anything she was feeling because it might not be her. She would only use her abilities on _her_ terms, not at the will of some scientists. She felt that she was getting better at negating the more negative effects of the voices. There hadn’t been any headaches for a few hours, the longest she’d gone without _some_ kind of pain.

Annette had steadfastly ignored the voices, even as they grew louder, some of them almost screaming. Despite the risks, she was growing more curious _what_ they were saying, if they were saying anything at all. And that was terrifying since she felt that it was a trick these scientists were playing on her.

Well, she wasn’t going to fall for it. She wasn’t going to be turned insane just because they willed it. Gritting her teeth, she looked around the room for the hidden camera she knew was there. Despite not seeing it, she tapped her head at one of the corners and shook her head, hoping that conveyed the message.

Although it might not do anything at all. For all she knew, they were learning just as she was. Maybe they didn’t know what she was actually experiencing. She shook her head. No, they had to have some idea, especially since she wasn’t the only test subject. Not everyone would have been able to resist as she had, it just didn’t seem like _someone_ wouldn’t have described what was happening to the scientists.

She looked down at her arms, opening and closing her fingers, marveling at how everything still worked. She looked like the victim of an acid attack or fire survivor. Dozens of miniature scars dotted her arms within warped, wrinkled and raw flesh. She remembered the scientists attempting to fix her arm, they had sprayed some stuff on it that had helped, and had also fixed her left wrist after she’d apparently dislocated it from smashing the door.

She curled her fingers of her left hand, wondering why it didn’t feel worse. Must be a side effect of using her powers. She wondered if the disfiguring effects would spread to the rest of her body. From showering she’d noticed patches of warped skin and miniature scars on various parts of her body. She assumed it would continue the more she used her powers, and at the rate it was disfiguring her, she wondered if at some point her body would simply fall apart. This kind of damage couldn’t be endured forever.

She laid back on the bed, trying to once again figure out how to get out of this hopeless situation. Yet no matter how hard she thought, nothing came to her that would work. Her powers wouldn’t let her break out of the room. She had no idea where she was, and had no doubt that if she was caught, she’d wish she was dead.

Who was she kidding? She _did_ wish she was dead. She wished they’d just killed her that night she was walking home. At the time she’d thought the two men were going to rape her or worse and had taken off, the whole time cursing how little she had to defend herself. With only a knife, she’d known her odds weren’t good and focused on getting away.

All for nothing, as she’d been unwittingly directed toward a one-way alley. Preparing to fight, hands shaking, she’d raised the rather pathetic looking blade at the two men who’d exchanged a look and almost smiled. At this point she remembered she had a phone and frantically pulled it out, trying to reach the police when the men had taken action and shot her with some kind of taser.

She blacked out and the next thing she knew, she’d woken up in here.

The experiments had started the day after.

She should have been carrying a gun. Latrell had kept insisting she did, going so far as to use his position to get her a permit. She’d refused, not comfortable with guns in the first place and confident nothing was going to happen to her. She was a fairly intelligent woman, she could admit that, but not anyone worth kidnapping or committing any sort of crime against.

She wasn’t even particularly high up in her position either, just a personnel and importing manager in one of France’s many corporations. True, she was good at her job, but it wasn’t exactly a position that attracted much interest outside corporate circles. Although now that she’d had some time to think, her mediocrity was probably the reason she’d been abducted for these experiments.

She was no one and they knew it. A disappearance like hers would result in an investigation at most and then the police would eventually determine it was a murder or just chalk her up as missing. Then they’d forget about her and move on to the next case.

Annette felt tears gather in her eyes as she remembered everything she’d left behind.

She missed all of them now. Latrell, his family, her mother, even her father, strange as that was to admit. They might have had major disagreements, but she knew he’d loved her. Now she’d probably never get to see and yell at him again.

She sniffed as the tears fell down the side of her face onto the bed. Sure, her life hadn’t exactly been the most _exciting_ , but she’d been happy. She’d had a good job, a group of good friends, a loving if flawed family and an amazing boyfriend. She’d been happy.

Now she’d never get any of that back. She was essentially trapped in this small room forever.

Even if she _did_ manage to get out of the room it was still pointless. She was just going to be captured again anyway so why even bother?

_To get yourself killed._

She let out a broken chuckle through her blurred vision. Was this was she was reduced to? Contemplating not how to escape this place, but the best way to commit suicide? Well, did she really have any other option? She was going to die eventually, someday her usefulness would come to an end and they’d kill her.

It might be better to die on her own terms.

Although there was one option she could take; a final resort before she could resort to planning her own suicide.

She could listen to the voices.

As soon as that thought entered her mind she began sobbing and curled up into a ball. She cursed herself for even thinking of that. They _wanted_ her to do this! This…all she was feeling right now was engineered by them to bait her into crossing the point of no return.

But the despair was crumbling her resolve to resist the emotional manipulation as she laid curled up for unknown minutes; because deep down, she felt that it was irrevocably rooted in truth.

She had no more options if she ever wanted to escape.

It didn’t matter it she held out forever or a few hours. It would accomplish _nothing_ in the long run. If she didn’t break, someone else would and all she would have done is gotten executed knowing she’d resisted them. That might have been good enough for some, but not her. If she was going to resist, it had to accomplish something.

And if listening to the voices was the key to escaping…could she really ignore it?

As if they knew the internal war she was fighting, the voices whispered on the edge of her consciousness; taunting her with vague sounds that she would be able to understand if she _just_ paid attention.

Just a moment. That’s all that was needed.

And what did she have to lose? Her mind? At this point, it might be better this way. If she went insane she’d be free in a way, no longer worrying about the hell her life had become. Better if that forced these people to conclude she was a lost cause and terminate her once and for all.

She sat up, taking shaky breaths and feeling her resolve grow. The grief and sadness slowly faded, though she didn’t know if that was the result of the chemicals fading or if she’d ironically somehow managed to resist them after deciding to do what they wanted.

But she no longer cared is she was getting manipulated or not. There were no more options; no more putting it off. It was time to take a chance or resign herself to the life of a captive.

She got off the bed and knelt on the floor, calmly resting her hands on her knees. A meditative pose she’d seen that somehow felt right for this situation. Slowing her breathing down until it was a steady rhythm, she closed her eyes.

And listened.

The world went quiet and a blanket silence fell on her.

Utter silence.

Then at the edge of her consciousness she heard the faint sound of words. She immediately focused on them.

_Wonder what the Director is thinking, keeping the subject alive this long. It served it’s purpose long ago._

More words came, but these were different, it didn’t sound like the source was the same. _Tell me about it. The subjects get more dangerous the longer we keep it. Let’s hope the scientists get what they need. I don’t want these things living up to their namesake._

Annette gasped as a flood of images appeared; most were half-formed, vague, rooms missing details. A hideous creature with leathery wings and shrieking. All the images were going an instant later as the first voice continued. _Who came up with the name, anyway?_

_Long story apparently,_ the second voice said and kept speaking but Annette noticed something that seemed like a blanket above her, or more like a balloon about to pop. Focusing it on it, images came into view, much sharper and clearer than the half-formed images she’d seen earlier.

It was a hallway with bright white lights above it and gray floors and walls. Directly across was something like a cell. Rather like hers, if she was being honest. But what seemed interesting is that this didn’t seem to be a static image. Almost without thinking, she looked to her left and was surprised when the image shifted as well.

A man was beside her, or at least from the image she was seeing. He was speaking, though she couldn’t hear anything. He appeared pretty well dressed, wearing pants, a striped suit and tie with suspenders. Various electronic equipment was on him, earpieces and some computing gear strapped to his arms and waist. A red bandanna covered his lower face and he appeared to be of Chinese descent.

This was so weird, but she was curious just what she was doing. Time to see what was behind her. Willing the image to completely reverse, she realized she was also in front of a similar looking cell to the one across from her. Only this one had someone in it. A woman, it appeared, brown hair, white cloths and…kneeling…on the floor.

She audibly gasped and the image blurred and threatened to vanish as her heart started pounding.

This couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be.

Holding onto the collapsing image, she raised her own physical hand and saw the woman raise it as well. Not a woman. _Her_. The image faded and her eyes snapped open with a gasp and frantic breathing. Unwilling to sit still, she jumped to her feet and began pacing frantically.

Had she just-did she seriously…was that some strange sort of hallucination?

It seemed insane…but there wasn’t any other way she could explain it.

She’d seen inside someone’s mind.

And the voices…they weren’t random whispers in her mind. They were _people_ ; their thoughts, words and memories. And if she could understand them…she paused her pacing, thinking furiously.

Could she control them?

To a degree she must, otherwise how would she have turned the head to her cell. So if she could figure out how to control people…

A smile crept across her face as the beginnings of an idea formed in her head as the voices lingered in the back of her head.

But now she could understand them.

Now she had a chance to escape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Intelligence Operation: Paris

 

_Paris, France_

Abby and Ruth sat out in an open-air café while they waited for evening. Fortunately, it was a cloudy day, so neither of them were too hot. Both wore civilian clothes, quite a change for Abby who hadn’t worn anything other than armor outside the Citadel for months. Quite honestly, she felt exposed and vulnerable and had to stop herself from subconsciously reaching down for her non-existent pistol.

At the moment, they were only a few miles from the bar where their target frequented. A few hours more and they would converge, execute the op and leave with hopefully none the wiser. Abby fingered the vial in her hands as they watched the civilians walk and mill around without a care in the world.

She’d chosen the sedative herself and knew exactly how long it to take effect. There’d been some debate, but they ultimately decided around four hours was enough time for Abby to realistically convince him to take her back to his place of residence, with enough time to allow for driving and potential traffic. It wouldn’t do any good for him to pass out halfway back if he was driving. Alternatively, she’d get him drunk enough so she would drive him back.

Four hours. She was going to have to hold his attention for that long. Abby felt nervous again as she kept remembering that. Ruth had said she was confident in her ability, but Abby wasn’t too sure.

“You’ve got that look again,” Ruth commented as she sipped her coffee.

Abby looked over. “What look?”

“Your _nervous_ _but trying to hide it_ look,” Ruth clarified with a smile.

It was eerie how good she was at this. “How could you possibly guess that?” Abby asked, raising her cup of tea. “For all you know, the tea just might not have agreed with me.”

Ruth smirked. “Because one, I’m a Kidon agent who’s spent a good portion of her life reading people and two, because I’ve had that tea and it’s pretty good.”

“Well, you got me,” Abby sighed. “But I can’t really help it.”

“Nerves before an op, it’s perfectly normal,” Ruth encouraged. “Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been through it.”

“I doubt you were the one the entire op rested on,” Abby pointed out. “The entire mission depends on me.”

“True, my first mission was a bit easier,” Ruth admitted. “But you’re selling yourself short. And giving this guy way too much credit.”

Abby set down her drink. “So, what was yours, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Ruth shrugged and set her coffee on the table. “There was this drug dealer in Jerusalem. Terrible guy, sold the stuff primarily to kids and teens. Thing was, he was really good at covering his tracks and had an excellent lawyer who got him out of jail time over and over. The Mossad were sick of it and wanted him gone. So, they involved the Kidon and I got my orders to kill him, but with one catch.”

Abby had an idea but asked anyway. “And it was…?”

“It had to look like an accident,” Ruth smiled fondly. “Now, back then I was young and wanted to impress my superiors. They would have been satisfied with a framed overdose or suicide, but I wanted it to be perfect. I found him a few days of looking around and began setting a rather elaborate trap.”

Abby was curious, despite herself. “The first thing I did was kidnap his lawyer and drive him down to an area overrun with several gangs. They’re very territorial and I don’t imagine what they did to him was pretty. His death appeared on the news a week later. Sad, really. Unfortunate he’d chosen to associate with such terrible company, the police might have spent more than a few hours looking into his death. But it was so clearly a tragic homicide.”

Ruth shook her head. “Anyway, getting off topic. So I waited as he left to go do his business and subdued his girlfriend. She talked pretty quickly and I soon knew when he’d be coming back. So I waited and when the time was right, jacked her up on a whole host of drugs and chemicals. LSD, meth, a whole bunch of stuff. She overdosed rather quickly, but that was the point. Though personally, I’m not sure if she died from the overdose or when I stabbed her several times.”

Ruth took a sip of her coffee. “So once he got back, I subdued him, and got him high on just LSD. Got his prints all over the knife, so implicated him in a murder. His house was a haven of drugs already so I didn’t even have to plant anything. Anyway, he’s so far gone now so he pretty much let me guide him wherever. I walked him down to his car, started it, and sent him off.”

“He crashed, I assumed?” Abby asked rhetorically.

“Not at first,” Ruth clarified. “He drove rather drunkenly around the street for a few minutes,” her eyebrow rose. “However, the Kidon have this very handy gadget that, if placed under the accelerator and hooked to it, can be remotely trigger and cause a massive speed boost. Self-destructs afterwards as well, which is handy.”

“So you triggered it and he sped to his death,” Abby stated.

“Exactly,” Ruth nodded with a smile. “His car crashed spectacularly. I waited a few minutes to let him suffocate or burn to death before calling the medics. Though I was pretty sure the impact alone killed him. Anyway, it was eventually ruled a murder-suicide and everyone was happy.”

“And you think that was easier than this?” Abby asked, staring at her incredulously. “You killed three people!”

“Three _criminals_ ,” Ruth corrected emphatically. “And yes, of course it’s easier. Killing people is easy, but manipulating people? A little harder, no matter if your target is an idiot or Einstein.”

Abby frowned at her. “You didn’t think that was a _bit_ overkill? Quite literally?”

“Like I said, I was young and wanted to impress people,” Ruth admitted, looking out into the crowd. “I would probably be a little less flashy if done today.”

It was talks like these when Abby felt she should be much more scared and worried about this woman than she was. They’d be having something resembling a normal conversation and Ruth would give a story like that as an example or use it to illustrate her point. Most of the time it involved killing someone or worse.

The thing was, Ruth was just so _nice_ and didn’t act like the killer she was at all. She’d been extremely helpful and supportive and did everything possible to help her transition to her new role. She’d seen unbalanced people before and Ruth didn’t exhibit any of the signs associated with that. After spending some time not just with Ruth, but the other Mossad and Kidon agents, she now had some theories as to why.

The simplest explanation is that it was just part of the job for them. Their missions were often lethal and over time they’d just become desensitized to it. From what little she knew about the Kidon, the other possibility was that they were more or less groomed not to feel anything about their targets.

She wasn’t quite willing to bring up the subject of the Kidon right now. “Well,” she finally said, taking a sip. “I guess this could be much harder.”

“Please,” Ruth said, looking back over. “You’ll do fine. Remember the constant rule.”

“Of course,” Abby sighed. “ _All men are idiots when it comes to women_.”

“Exactly,” Ruth confirmed.

“You think you’re not overgeneralizing a bit?” Abby asked, that particular question bugging her ever since Ruth had first mentioned it.

“Not really,” Ruth shook her head. “Trust me, I’ve followed this rule for years and it becomes ridiculously easy after a point. Men want attention; give that to them, make them feel important and that’s ninety percent of your work done,” she eyed Abby. “I’m slightly surprised you haven’t figured that out yet. You’re an attractive woman, surely you must have met someone?”

“Oh, I have,” Abby waved her hand absentmindedly. “But I was in med school to get my degree. Not hook up with people. Besides, I had no desire to start something that wouldn’t last,” she fixed Ruth with a smirk. “And all the men I worked with were very intelligent, some more so than me.”

“Oh, I completely believe you,” Ruth clarified, setting her drink on the table. “But notice I said they’re idiots when _it comes to women_. Big difference.”

Abby was silent for a minute. “Look,” Ruth turned further to face her. “I don’t think you have much to worry about with this guy. Chat him up, smile, compliment him, give him everything he wants to hear. It’s easier than you think, you’ll see.”

“Let’s just hope he’s not the womanizing type,” Abby frowned. “That’ll make things difficult.”

“Oh, no,” Ruth chuckled. “Those are the easiest. All you have to do is sit back as listen to them brag about themselves, while occasionally commenting on how great they must be. It’s the quieter ones who are more skeptical of sudden attention that are more difficult. But that isn’t this guy so don’t worry.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “So if this is completely foolproof, I suppose you have a perfect track record?”

“Not quite,” Ruth admitted with a smile. “In my entire career there have only been two who I’ve failed to successfully seduce. Though one was a Chinese spy and the other a former KGB operative. Seduction typically doesn’t work on intelligence personnel, so I usually use other means. But events sometimes happen that do force my hand.”

She doubted this whole mission would be quite as simple as Ruth was making it out to be, but she was too self-assured for Abby not to feel a _little_ better about it. Though what she was doing did personally make her uncomfortable, especially when in this case it was very much rooted in truth.

Because she _did_ see Ruth’s point very well, and in fact had experienced it several times. She vividly recalled asking some of her male colleagues in med school for help on one thing or another a few times and them being _very_ quick to instantly agree, no matter how difficult or time consuming it was.

After a few times, it became clear to her that they were primarily helping her for the sole reason of either asking her out or just having sex. It had unnerved her a little how far they were willing to go just for the possibility of either. She’d eventually stopped asking for help altogether because the longer it went on, the more it felt like she was taking advantage of their interest even if it wasn’t her fault.

She’d never really thought of using her attractiveness as a weapon before, but upon thinking upon it further, Ruth was right in how useful it could be. Still, it felt exploitative on a personal level and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing how accurate Ruth’s rule actually was.

_“You two ready?”_ the voice of Akello interrupted her thoughts, the voice coming in her earpiece.

Ruth switched hers on and Abby copied it. “Whenever you are. You inside?”

Abby heard a snort. _“This is honestly pathetic. It took me about five minutes to get in. I’ve got full control of the cameras and systems.”_

“Excellent,” Ruth stood and tossed her cup in the trash. “Time to start.”

***

_Scotland, Wilderness_

As he and his team waited for intel, Cerian busied himself with learning as much about the organization, personnel and history of XCOM. Patrick had provided him everything the Council had on it, although had admitted to him that the majority of it was likely out of date as the Commander didn’t feel the need to keep the Council updated on anything.

He shook his head at that. No wonder that Commander thought he could walk all over the Council. They were too scared of demanding anything and as a result he’d effectively shut them out for good. The fact that the Commander hadn’t given any non-verbal updates should have been a _massive_ red flag that things might not be so good.

To be fair, the Council was divided, but to Cerian, that set off an even bigger flag. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Russia was at the forefront of the pro-Commander side, but the fact that they weren’t even trying to hide it indicated that they had something planned and weren’t afraid of antagonizing the other nations. And because Russia was one of the most powerful countries, it gave some of the smaller countries the courage to stand by them.

Politics aside, it was quite a fascinating few days of research. The Council hadn’t skimped on hiring the best either. Shen he hadn’t personally heard of, but he was apparently well known in the field. Interesting that he was a Taiwanese immigrant, Cerian wondered what his opinions to China were. He also had a daughter, apparently, stuck at some school apparently. No mention of the mother though, which was odd. But Shen had been involved in a _lot_ of high-profile military and civilian projects, some of them UN.

It was the same with Vahlen, though she was one he’d heard of. There had been speculation that she’d been a victim of the Caliphate during the War on Terror. Apparently she’d just been recruited for XCOM.

She’d always been involved on the cutting edge of controversial and experimental military tech, so she was a natural pick for a position with so many possibilities. Although, some of the stuff she’d worked on, or had been alleged to work on was…very questionable. Fringe science was a term he’d usually dismissed, but the more he looked into Vahlen’s past, the more he got the impression that she was a fringe scientist at heart.

She was involved in an _extremely_ high number of classified projects that the Council only had limited records on. Such projects were alleged to be creating super soldiers and world-ending plagues. Stuff out of science fiction that Vahlen seemed determined to bring into reality.

Combined with the Commander’s complete lack of ethics and morality, pairing them together would only lead to disaster.

But that was for the Council to deal with. His job was to find evidence of XCOM interfering in international affairs.

“Cerian!” Mary practically exclaimed, as she rushed in almost out of breath. A laptop clutched in her hands, she quickly brushed her short black hair back in attempt to look presentable. It was quite apparent from her disheveled appearance that she hadn’t eaten or slept for a while.

But any trace of fatigue was gone and her eyes sparkled. _Well, let’s see what this is_. “Yes?” He asked calmly, putting down his tablet and giving her his full attention.

“Ok, listen,” she began excitedly. “You forwarded me the list of XCOM soldiers right?”

Cerian nodded. He’d allowed all the agents access to the files as soon as he’d received them. Fortunately, the soldier list was something that was current, at least in regards to the Council nations. Most countries notified the people affiliated with the Council about transfers to XCOM as well, with a few exceptions such as Israel.

“Short version is that I got a hit,” she explained, taking a seat beside him and opening up her laptop. He immediately focused on it.

“On who?” He demanded as the video came into focus.

“An XCOM soldier,” Mary answered. “Abigail Gertrude. I thought that was odd so I looked who she was with.” She focused the image in further. “I can’t see her face, but the body matches with our mystery woman.”

Cerian felt a smile creep across his face. “Now _that_ is very interesting. And in civilian clothing no less. Where is this?”

“Paris,” Mary answered immediately. “I’ve been keeping an eye on both of them. The woman never reveals her face, but Abigail clearly hasn’t learned the same discretion.”

“Where are they now?” Cerian demanded, looking at the current feed where they appeared to be in some kind of restaurant or coffee shop.

“Some café,” Mary confirmed. “They’ve been there for at least an hour, according to the logs. This is the only lead I’ve found at the moment.”

Cerian immediately rose to his feet and hit the buzzer that sent out a quick shriek throughout the house. “We’ve got a hit everyone! Gather up your equipment and head for the helicopter! Now! This is _time sensitive!_ ”

There were confirmations shouted from the various rooms and the rustle of gear being gather. Cerian fixed his gaze on Mary. “Don’t let them out of your sight, camera or otherwise. I want to know _everything_ that happens, no matter how small.”

“Yes, sir!” She nodded. “I’m ready to go now, if that’s fine.”

“Get something to eat,” he began, then paused. “Actually, hold off. I’ll get you something when we get to Paris. But excellent work.”

Her eyes focused on the screen, she nodded. “Can it be pizza? _American_ pizza?”

“Yeah,” he nodded absentmindedly, thinking of the best way to handle this. Ren, Baston and Olivia approached him, all geared up with packs of equipment.

“We’re ready when you are, sir.” Olivia said, speaking for them.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Darril?”

“Here!” Darril called out as he rushed out, stuffing a vial into his pack. “Apologies sir!”

He jabbed a finger at them. “Olivia, Ren. Both of you will don civilian attire and go with me into the field. Unless XCOM is moving into an abandoned area, we’re staying _incognito_. Blend in with the crowd and keep in constant contact.”

“Got it!” They both confirmed.

“Darril, Baston, both of you will stand by in case things go south,” Cerian ordered. “Do _not_ intervene unless ordered or your life is in danger. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” They confirmed.

He grabbed his sniper rifle, finding solace in the comforting weight even though he’d probably not be using it. “Let’s go!” He shouted over his shoulder as they marched behind him to the helicopter. “We need to intercept them before they leave the city.”

Time to find out what XCOM was doing here.

Provided they actually _were_ XCOM.

Cerian smiled as the helicopter lifted off. It had been years, and it felt good to be doing something important again.   

***

_Paris, Personne Ne Se Traduit_

The club was surprisingly packed. Abby felt that she shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as she was. Actually, it honestly made sense, with the alien attacks, she’d imagine that would drive more people to drink. Not to mention it was Paris and still had a large amount of tourists.

It worked to her advantage though, no one would question her if they noticed she wasn’t a native. There was a pretty diverse crowd here, people of all races and nationalities. It also wasn’t going to make their mission any easier.

“How are we going to find him in this?” Abby muttered to Ruth who stood beside her also watching the crowd.

“We’re early, remember?” Ruth reminded her. “We’re just going to get into position. Akello will let us know the moment he enters.”

_“Yep. Copy that,”_ Akello commented in her earpiece. _“He doesn’t typically show up this early, though.”_

“Right,” Abby responded as they went over to one of the tables as pounding music played, almost vibrating through the air. It was a fairly open place, squares of tables with dividers between them. An expansive bar that stretched throughout the area, a large dance floor and several game tables at the far ends. Thanks to Akello looking at the footage of previous nights Madvay had come, he would spend the majority of his time at the bar itself, occasionally chatting with women who came up to him.

The chaos wasn’t as distracting as she was expecting. She could concentrate without too much trouble. She supposed after being in warzones, an overly loud club didn’t hold her attention quite the same way. Fortunate, since she was going to need to be at the top of her game for this.

“Been awhile since I’ve been in a place like this,” Ruth commented, laying her arms down on the table. “Past few months it’s either been small bars or infiltration missions. Nothing this scale in a while.”

“You like this?” Abby asked, looking over at her. Ruth had a contented smile on her face and playfulness in her eyes.

“I like the energy,” Ruth said, resting his chin on her fist. “It’s invigorating, especially when hunting. Not to mention the targets are always easier when drunk.” She brightened. “Speaking of which, we should probably get something. Two women sitting alone without anything might draw the wrong attention.”

Abby nodded, blending in was a good idea. “I’ll go get something. You have a preference?”

“Orange juice,” Ruth answered, looking over at the bar. “If they even have that. Don’t worry too much, but no water or alcoholic.”

“Got it,” Abby reassured her and began making her way through the crowd of people. Some moved out of her way politely, others didn’t, and some were just too drunk to notice. She just focused on getting to the bar. It was busy, but she managed to find a spot and sat down. Someone would come to her eventually and she wasn’t in a hurry.

As she looked over the menu, she did feel kind of depressed hearing all the cheers, laughter and enjoyment around her. It was just so odd how things were so… _normal_. How could people just continue on when the world itself was threatened? It didn’t seem fair or right that these people could move through life without any worry but other, better people died to grant them that luxury. Shouldn’t they be doing _something_ to help?

But wasn’t that the point? People like her made the sacrifices and others like Liam, Luke and Mira gave their lives so people lived in peace. But it just seemed wrong for people to pretend it wasn’t happening.

A quick rapping caught her attention as she refocused her eyes on one of the bartenders who was looking at her with amusement. “Can I help you, miss?” He asked with a smile, his French accent clearly pronounced. His brown hair was styled short, and his green eyes twinkled mischievously.

She cleared her throat. “Ah, yes. Sorry. You have orange juice?”

“Why, yes. Yes I do.” Almost instantly he placed a bottle on the counter. It looked like some sort of foreign company, but she could tell for sure. She must have been looking at it a bit too long because the bartender smiled. “Don’t worry. Non-alcoholic, it’s our most popular brand here. Worth every euro.”

“Ok,” Abby shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Just sweet tea for me.”

“You got it,” he walked off and Abby looked at the bottle. Oddly enough, it appeared to be written in Hebrew. Or was it Russian? Whatever it was, she couldn’t read the ingredients to see if the bartender was telling the truth. Something seemed off about him, especially since he’d somehow known what she was going to ask for.

“Here you go,” he told her, setting a glass with tea in front of her. “Anything else?”

“Oh, this,” Abby fished out the credit card she’d been given and handed it to him. He took it and walked back. Taking a sip of her tea, she had to admit it was pretty good. Just the right amount of sweetness.

“All done,” he handed the card back. “Now, may I have the vial?”

She froze. The only vial she had contained the sedative and the only way someone could know about that was…

She narrowed her eyes and looked at the bartender _much_ more closely. It was subtle, but whenever he blinked, sometimes his irises didn’t _quite_ match up. It seemed extremely difficult to believe but…”Kalonymous?”

“Well, at least I know my disguise works,” he answered happily, lowering his voice as he returned to his Israeli accent she’d become familiar with. “I figured it was best to cut out the middleman. No need to risk compromising yourself. I’ll add it to his drink myself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Abby causally resting her palm on the table, setting the vial down. He’d pick it up without having to do something as obvious as handing it to him. “Have a good night,” she told him. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Of course miss,” Kalonymous answered, regaining his uncannily accurate French accent. “Enjoy!”

She took the drinks and walked back to where Ruth was seated, taking care not to spill her drink. Sliding into her seat she slid the orange juice over to an incredulous Ruth. “How the hell did you manage to get this?” Ruth demanded as she looked it over.

“You didn’t tell me Kalonymous was posing as the bartender,” Abby answered, taking a sip of her tea. “I guess he knew what we liked.”

Her face lit up. “Ah, so he _did_ manage to get in. Excellent.”

Abby cocked her head. “You didn’t think that would have been good to know?”

“That was best case scenario,” Ruth explained. “Especially in a place like this. I figured he’d have been resigned to just watch the streets or something. We’ll definitely know when Madvay shows up now.”

“I’m wondering,” Abby said, looking again at the partying crowd. “What are you going to be doing when I’m chatting him up?”

“Watching and listening,” she answered with a small smile. “Depending on how well you’re doing, I might just take up some of the offers that are sure to come if I move around a little.”

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. “You aren’t actually going to have sex during the middle of this, are you?”

“Hey, only if you don’t have issues,” Ruth reassured her. “You take what you can get in this job. Besides, it’s good practice and one of the few times I get to have fun.”

“You have an interesting definition of the word _fun_ ,” Abby noted, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to kill them, are you?”

“God no,” Ruth chuckled. “Trust me, I only go after men who pose no threat to me. If there is even a sliver of doubt he might be violent, I just avoid him. Dead bodies draw attention.”

“How smart,” Abby remarked sarcastically. “I would say good luck, but I don’t think you need it.”

“No,” Ruth answered as she flashed a seductive smile at one of the men who passed. “I certainly do not.”

***

Going into this loud, obnoxious place reminded Cerian why he’d chosen a nice _quiet_ spot in Scotland beyond being essentially forced into retirement. How anyone could enjoy themselves with their heads physically pounding from the music was beyond him. He was probably getting too old for this.

“So this is the place?” He stated, more in hope than as an actual question.

_“Yes, sir,”_ Mary said into his earpiece. _“Tracked them to here. I’ll begin taking control of the cameras now.”_

Cerian hesitated. “Could you do something about the noise?”

He pointedly ignored the stifled chuckle from Olivia behind him. _“I’ll see what I can do,”_ Mary promised, also sounded amused. _“Although that might draw attention.”_

“Forget it,” he sighed, looking back at Olivia and Ren. “Both of you enter after me. Move around, participate if you want. But I want eyes on them as soon as possible.”

“Got it,” Ren said, running a hand though his wavy brown hair. “And once we do?”

“Keep me updated and do not approach,” Cerian ordered, turning toward the entrance. “You know the drill. There are probably Kidon agents with them, and they’re likely in the crowd. Be on your guard.”

“Will do,” Olivia stated, biting her lower lip. “Though this is a club. We’re both probably going to attract some people.”

Yes, she was right. His age was going to be an advantage here in that he didn’t have to worry about that issue. Younger agents were more vulnerable in that respect. Still, both of them were professionals and could handle the distractions. “I’ll leave how to handle that up to you,” he told them, eyeing them sharply. “But no trysts.”

“Oh, fine,” Ren sighed dramatically. Cerian smirked and began going into the club. A lot of people; that would both help and hinder them. Hinder by making it more difficult to find them. But when they did it would be much easier to blend into the crowd. It was large, so some walking around would be in order.

But first he had to plan. Sitting down in an empty chair, he looked into the crowd. Nothing so far, but he wouldn’t expect many competent agents to be wandering around unless they were looking for someone. Pulling out his phone and pretending to use it to distract anyone possibly watching, he kept thinking.

Unless they were trying to get into restricted areas, they would be in the main areas. So that meant they were probably sitting down somewhere as well. At least the two women, excluding any additional people XCOM might, or might not have sent. “I’m inside,” he muttered. “No signs yet. Moving to the bar.”

_“Would have been rather anti-climactic if you had,”_ Ren commented. _“I mean, when do missions go that smoothly?”_

_“I’m poised to enter now,”_ Olivia informed him. _“Taking the left side.”_

_“I’ll move to the dance floor,”_ Ren said. _“Anything new, Mary.”_

_“Working,”_ was the tense reply.

Cerian made his way through the throng of people, not seeing anything familiar in the crush of faces. The bar itself was very… _sparkly_ , if that made any sense. No, _immaculate_ was a better word. A polished wooden bar that shined when the lights hit it. He didn’t look up at the flashing neon lights over at the dance floor. All it would accomplish was giving him a headache.

Taking a seat, he looked over the menu while he waited for service. Yep, about what he expected. While it had been a while since an op like this, he fell back into the routine so easily. “May I help you?” A bartender who was clearly a native Frenchman asked him, with a disarming smile.

“[Yes, an Adelscott and a bottle of water if it’s alright,]” Cerian replied in French. “[Also a plastic cup if you don’t mind.]”

The brown-haired bartender nodded quickly. “[Of course, sir. One moment.]” He went off while Cerian looked down the bar. Not that much unexpected here either, a few groups of people chatting. Some people sitting alone watching the TV’s, sometimes cheering when the team they were rooting for scored. In fact, a few tables were also watching. Potentially a good stakeout point.

“[Here you go, sir.]” The bartender returned with his drinks. Cerian handed him some cash in payment.

“[Appreciated, keep the change.]” That might look suspicious otherwise, but it was only a few cents. Not really worth noting. Grabbing the drinks, he made for a more secluded corner just for the moment. Sitting down, he opened the small beer bottle and poured it into the cup he’d requested.

_“Well this is interesting,”_ Mary’s voice came through.

“What is it?” Cerian asked quietly, making sure no one was watching.

_“Someone else is already in the system, I can’t assume control without them noticing.”_

Cerian pursed his lips. At least this proved there was something going down here. “Can you secure it” He asked as he poured water into the now empty beer bottle.

_“Always up for a challenge,”_ was the response. _“I can put them on the defensive at the very least. But It’ll tip them off we’re here.”_

Damn it. “I don’t want to spook them,” Cerian said, putting the empty water bottle down. “Nothing else you can do?”

_“I can try to trace it,”_ Mary said slowly. _“But if they’re even remotely competent they’ll be using proxies. Here, let me try piggybacking off of them. I won’t have control but I’ll see what they’re looking at.”_

“Do it,” he said, standing up with the beer bottle filled with water. “I’m moving around now.”

They continued moving around for the better part of half an hour, sitting down for a few minutes, looking around, then moving again. He didn’t see Olivia or Ren, which he counted as a good thing. He also didn’t see anyone overly out of the ordinary or anyone who set off any internal alarms.

_“I think I might have found them,”_ Ren informed. _“At least a woman matching Abigail’s picture.”_

Cerian raised the bottle to his lips as a distraction. “Where?”

_“About halfway down the bar, I believe table three on your left.”_

“Moving,” he told them, standing up. Fingering a hidden camera, he began making his way towards the table. The crowd remained consistent so he was able to move without drawing more attention. Passing tables one, two…

Table three he glanced casually to his left. Two women were chatting intently with each other, looking into the crowd, though not currently on him. The blonde was definitely Abigail and she had a drink with some sort of dark liquid in it. Probably not alcohol. Tea? As he kept moving he quickly placing the camera down on the table opposite them without looking.

As for the other woman, she could be none other than Ruth Shira. The last alleged picture of her was about half a decade old, but the resemblance was uncanny. She was older, but it was definitely her. She also had some sort of bottle in her hand, what it was, he couldn’t make out.

That was all he needed and he looked away and let the crowd consume him. “Camera placed,” he muttered as he looked onto his phone displaying the video feed. “Confirmation on Abigail Gertrude and Ruth Shira. Be on guard, Kidon agents are in play. Exercise extreme caution.”

_“Damn,”_ Olivia sighed. _“Well, what now?”_

“We watch and wait,” Cerian ordered. “Find a spot and stay there for the moment. Watch people that don’t move, guards, the bartenders. They could have people anywhere.”

_“Acknowledged,”_ Ren stated.

_“They’re keeping most of the cameras on auto,”_ Mary updated. “ _But they have one fixed on the entrance. I think they’re waiting for someone.”_

“Then we wait,” Cerian stated. “Don’t screw this up now.”

***

_“We have confirmation of target entrance,”_ Akello updated. _“Following.”_

“Good,” Ruth took a sip of her drink. “No hostiles spotted so far.”

“That normal?” Abby asked, looking around.

“In this case, no,” Ruth clarified. “This guy might not even be part of EXALT. He might just actually be a high ranking member on vacation, so I’d assume that wouldn’t warrant special attention.” The corners of her lips twitched. “That being said, if he _is_ EXALT there is a suspicious lack of security.”

_“He’s going to the bar now,”_ Akello updated again. _“Kalonymous is giving him his drink. The clock starts now.”_

“Showtime,” Abby muttered. “I’ll give him a few minutes, watch him for a bit.”

“Good hunting,” Ruth smiled. “Remember the plan.”

“Of course,” Abby nodded. It was simple, yet not set in stone. Things had to right, first.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and began walking over to the bar. Taking a seat on the corner, she got her first good look at Madvay. His appearance was much like the picture Zhang had shown them. Short styled brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes and a round face. He had some distinct Russian features such as a flatter chin and slightly protruding nose. Overall, he wasn’t a bad looking man.

Resting her arms on the bar, she watched him passively, glad she could do that without it looking suspicious. If anyone saw her, they’d just assume she was checking him out, which she was. She was curious how long it would take him to notice, if he did. While she watched, she wrapped a strand of hair around her finger, toying with it. Men seemed to like that for some reason.

“Let me know if you want to get him a drink,” Kalonymous said under his breath as he walked by, not looking at her.

She tilted her head forward in acknowledgement. That was a good plan, if he failed to notice her. She stirred her tea with a straw and flashed him a smiled as he looked over. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but otherwise didn’t react as he returned his attention to the TV. Must have thought it was a coincidence or thought it was for someone else.

So, that told her he wasn’t used to attracting attention. Good to know, Ruth warned her about being too aggressive especially with shy men. Going from nothing to well, _her_ , might make him uncomfortable if she went at it the wrong way. He apparently wasn’t completely dense as he looked back to see her still looking over at him.

She gave a little wave, and he went from slight surprise to something resembling interest. He gave her a smile of his own, a rather nice one if she was being honest. She rapped the bar hoping that would get Kalonymous’s attention. She didn’t break eye contact as she sipped her drink.

“Good luck,” Kalonymous told her softly as he walked past. Abby looked away and fished some Euros out of her pocket and laid it on the table to avoid drawing suspicion. Pushing herself off the seat, she figured if she made a roundabout route to Madvay, that would give Kalonymous enough time to deliver the drink, as well as say who it was from.

Pushing her way past some people, she quickly made something of a rectangular route down towards the entrance area, then right until she was roughly where Madvay would be, then headed back up to the bar. She didn’t spot Ruth or anyone else along the way, though she couldn’t help but wonder if that really meant no one was watching. After all, she was new at this.

Ah, perfect. A seat open just beside him to his right. He’d returned to primarily looking at the TV, but she noticed he glanced around every so often. Looking for her, a good sign. Another bottle was beside his glass, so Kalonymous must have given it to him. With a smoothness that surprised herself, she slid into the seat beside him.

“Enjoying the drink?” She asked casually as he noticed and turned to face her.

He raised the glass. “That I am, Madam,” he answered, his voice heavy with a Russian accent, though not incomprehensible. “Though it is a surprise, I must say.”

“Well, not an unpleasant one I hope,” Abby teased, resting her arms on the table. “You looked rather bored.”

“Heh, very true,” he agreed, motioning at the TV. “Very bad game. Even if I have no stake in it,” his lips curled up. “You seem to be much more interesting.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Abby chuckled, raising her glass. “Galia Pritchard.”

“Madvay Vadim,” he answered. “A great pleasure.”

“So where are you from, Madvay,” she asked, easing into another topic. As they were speaking a woman slid into a seat a few down from them and waved over Kalonymous. “Am I wrong to guess you’re as much a native here as I?”

“Completely correct, Galia,” he nodded. “I’m an…overseer, of the equivalent in a major Russian company. On a vacation right now, enjoying it before getting back into the chaos.”

“Oh really?” She said, doing her best to overemphasize her interest. “I didn’t know you were an important businessman.”

She was somewhat amused when he straightened up a bit more at that. “Well, I don’t know if _important_ is the right word,” he downplayed, pretending to sound modest. “But I know what I’m doing very well.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, nodding and let out a dramatic sigh. “I can only imagine how difficult it is to rise. I’ve dealt with the culture before and it’s extremely competitive and stressful.”

“You American, right?” He asked, appraising her. “What do you do?”

“I’m a surgeon,” she explained. “Doing a brief stint here since the European countries have been hit hardest by the aliens.”

He whistled. “Wow, I had no idea I was speaking with such a talented woman.”

She allowed a blush and brushed her hair back. “Why thank you. It’s nice to hear from such a charming gentleman.”

He gave a mischievous smile. “I do my best.”

Well, things were going surprisingly well and if this kept up, she’d have him taking her back to his place in no time. She’d distracted him so completely that he didn’t notice how his drink was oddly refilled. Keep getting him drunk and he’d soon do whatever she said.

So, taking a sip of her tea, she smiled, nodded, and let him talk.

***

_“She’s laying it on rather thick,”_ Olivia commented in Cerian’s earpiece. She’d inserted herself a few chairs down from Abigail and whoever this Madvay was. Every so often, she’d update them on what was being said.

Cerian took a sip. “Mary, you got anything on this Madvay Vadim?”

_“Yeah, but I’m not seeing any connection here,”_ Mary sounded confused. _“He’s telling the truth. He’s fairly high up in a Russian agricultural company. Mostly supplies farming equipment and is one of the largest in the country.”_

Had Kidon agents not been involved, Cerian would have been tempted to call this whole thing off and instead chalked it up to an XCOM equivalent of shore leave. Abby was clearly trying to…if not seduce him, at least lower his guard around her. By the looks of things, she was doing a good job.

Sitting at the bar, he found it curious that Madvay’s drink was always getting refilled without prompting. Now, it was possible that he’d paid for unlimited drinks or something, but once he notice that, it wasn’t hard to connect that it was always the same bartender who refilled his drink.

A possible agent? Perhaps, and if so he had to be _very_ careful not to tip him off. He’d hate to get poisoned or something. “Mary,” he finally said, looking down at his phone. “Can you get an ID on that bartender? Brown hair, seems to hang around our couple.”

_“I’m trying to ID everyone around there,”_ Mary answered, frustrated. _“But he’s not turned his face towards the cameras. It’s like he knows where they are.”_

Right. So until proven otherwise, he was mentally marking the bartender as a Kidon agent, or at least affiliated. “Careful of the bartender, Olivia,” he cautioned. “I think he’s with them.”

He saw her faintly bob her head at nothing in particular. So, XCOM clearly wanted something from this man, and he had no idea what. Did they want his identity? His credentials? But even if that were the case, why target some Russian farming company? What possible relevance could that have to the war?

Involving clearly exceptional operatives only compounded his confusion. He would never use Kidon agents for anything other than important missions. So that either meant their commander was an idiot, had nothing _but_ exceptional agents, or Cerian was simply not seeing the whole plan.

_“No sign of Ruth,”_ Ren updated, as he was currently moving through the club, trying to keep track of the Kidon agent. _“I shouldn’t have spooked her, but I can’t find her.”_

Abigail and Madvay were still talking, and the bartender didn’t seem alarmed, so he doubted she was spooked. Losing a tail was probably second nature to her, especially if even half of her profile was accurate. Even an amateur could lose a tail in this crowd.

_“Wait! Spotted her!”_ Mary hissed. _“Take out your earpiece boss! She’s coming for you!”_

Within seconds it was out, something he’d mastered years ago. _Damn it_. If she was coming to him, that didn’t bode well. He heard, didn’t see, someone slid into the seat beside him. Instead he took a sip of his drink.

“You’re awfully quiet in a place like this,” an accented voice said to him. Turning to his right, he looked at the woman speaking to him. Yep, it was her.

Damn.

She didn’t look confrontational, smug or anything he was expecting. Oddly enough, she looked interested, though interested in the way a cat toys with a lizard. Her hair was loose and the black locks fell to her shoulders. Probably to hide the earpiece she had as well. Up close and personal, he could definitely tell she was older than she looked. The way she carried herself and the miniscule discolorations on her face clearly indicated makeup to perhaps cover up signs of age.

She was still a beautiful woman, but the prettiest ones were usually the most dangerous. Spies especially.

Play it cool. “Well, there’s a reason for that,” he gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve got no one to talk to.”

“Well, I can rectify that if you want,” Ruth offered, tilting her head to the side.

“If you wish,” Cerian shrugged. “I certainly won’t turn you down.”

She chuckled. “An odd place to go if you want to be alone.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why do you assume I want to be alone?”

“You sit away from people, sipping that beer repeatedly,” she answered. “You don’t make eye contact and sometimes just stare off into the distance. The world just vanishes for you.”

He was incredibly confused now. She seemed to have no clue who he was, which meant he’d done his job well. But at the same time, what were the chances she’d just want to…come up to him? Why was she talking to him like a regular person?

No, she had to be acting, just as he was. Putting some defensiveness in his voice, he answered. “You’ve been watching me.”

“You caught my attention,” she answered lazily, flipping some strands of hair behind her head. “Everyone else is so focused, so energetic, drunk, everyone has a reason for being here,” she took a sip of her drink. “Except you it seems.”

Hmm. Maybe he could see if he could get something out of her. “Well,” he looked away. “I guess I don’t really have a purpose here. Not a good one, anyway.”

“Is there a bad reason?” She asked, her sincerity sounding remarkably genuine.

“For me?” He paused. “Tell me, Mrs…?”

“Sarah,” she supplied.

_“Sarah_ ,” he continued. “You paying any attention to the world at the moment?”

He was surprised, but he thought he saw a genuine flash of interest in her eyes. “The aliens? I’d be more concerned if people _weren’t_ paying attention.”

“Yeah, the aliens,” Cerian gave a sigh. “The stuff that’s happening could drive anyone here.” He took a perfectly timed sip of his ‘beer.’ “Especially if you were affected by it.”

“Ah,” she looked away. She actually seemed somewhat distracted now. “You lost someone.”

Hmm. She actually seemed to be buying into his story, then again, he _was_ able to give a convincing performance. He slumped his shoulders. “Everyone, pretty much,” he admitted, putting suppressed pain in his voice. “Wife, children, friends. Hamburg, you know.”

“I know,” she nodded solemnly. “I lost friends there too.”

Oddly enough, Cerian believed her there. In their line of work losing friends was not unexpected, though he doubted it was from the Hamburg attack. “I mean, it wasn’t solely Hamburg,” he amended. “You heard of the Berlin Massacre? The attacks in Cologne? My family was too active for their own good.”

She looked away and he noted her subtly clutch her drink a bit tighter. “I’m sorry,” she said. It actually sounded like she meant it. “I hope your family will be avenged one day.”

“By my hand, if possible,” Cerian added, taking another sip. “I enlisted.”

Ruth looked over at him, frowning. “You did?”

“Yep,” he gave a sigh. “I ship out tomorrow. Trying not to think about what I got myself into. But I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and have others fight on my behalf.”

She appraised him, almost not sure what to think. “Admirable,” she finally said. “It’s sad more aren’t like you.”

He gave her a wan smile. “Hey, if the aliens win, I’d rather die fighting to my last breath than live under their rule.”

“Well,” Ruth pushed herself off. “I wish you well. Good luck…”

“Trent,” he supplied.

“Trent,” she nodded. “Thank you for your service.” With that she formed her right hand into a fist and placed it over her chest, then walked away.

After he insured she was gone, he picked up the earpiece.

What the hell had happened?

That entire exchange had been incredibly bizarre. He still didn’t know why she’d come up to him in the first place, but by the end it’d seemed that they were both meaning what they said. He’d convinced her of his story and she’d seemed sincere in wishing him well.

He couldn’t help but think he’d just talked himself out of something. What that was, he had no clue.

Time to see how things were progressing.

***

Her time was running out and the more drunk he became, the more chance he was going to pass out on her. He’d turned out to be surprisingly talkative after an hour or so and was _very_ descriptive of what he did. So she plied him with questions, how many people worked there, what did they do? Any suspicious people? How much security?

He’d more or less answered each of the questions in some way, though he was quickly becoming less coherent. Time to wrap this up. “I don’t think we should continue this here,” she told him sweetly. “I think we’ve talked enough about your job.”

“I _couldn’t_ agree more,” he answered, slightly swinging around. He still wasn’t completely slurring his speech which was a testament to how well he held up after…what was it? Four, _five_ drinks? “My place?”

“Of course,” she leaned in, grinning. “Just where else?”

He grinned and grabbed her hand, taking some initiative for once. She’d wondered if he’d picked up on her subtle flirting and it seemed he had to some degree.

She motioned to the door. “Lead the way,” he shakily stood up, and she grabbed him to steady him.

“You know,” he stumbled. “I think I might not be in the best shape to drive,” he gave a lopsided grin. “I’d hate to crash you.”

Well, well. A responsible driver at that. She was wondering how to bring that up. It was almost a shame she was using him; he genuinely seemed like a decent guy.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “ _I’ll_ drive.”

“Right,” he scowled as she fished for the keys in his pocket. His face brightened. “Here!” he dropped them in her hand and once again steady, began walking towards his car.

Well this was interesting. On his keychain was the his company ID. Well that was easy, now to see what else was at his house. They finally arrived at his car, a small red model she’d never seen before. It didn’t matter, they both got in and she started the car.

“Where to?” She asked after buckling up, looking over to him. “Sadly, I don’t know where you live yet.”

“Oh, right,” he blinked several times, his pupils dilating rapidly. Hmm. The sedative was going to take effect very soon. But he recalled it and told her the address.

“Any kind of gate code?” She asked before he passed out completely, not that it would be a huge obstacle, but it would waste time.

“Nope,” he got out, blinking rapidly. “All clear…”

She began driving and after a few minutes looked over at him. “You alright?” she asked, not quite able to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Fine,” he managed, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Just…really…tired…”

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “It will all be over soon.”

“What?” He asked, sounding confused.

“We’ll be home soon,” she amended, hoping he didn’t remember her previous sentence. She waited for a response but after a few minutes, she looked over to see him with his eyes closed and his mouth parted slightly.

Time to give a quick test. Pulling over, she took out the small knife she’d been carrying and made a shallow cut along his arm. Nothing, not a single reaction. He was completely out. She let out a sigh of relief. “Akello, you there?”

_“Loud and clear, Abby. Nice work.”_

She flushed with pride. “Thanks, but since he’s out, I need directions.”

_“Right on it. I’ll meet you there.”_

She relayed the directions and it wasn’t far away at all. About twenty minutes later, she pulled into a fairly nice hotel and pulled into the parking lot. His room was one that could be accessed from the outside, so they didn’t need to worry about them being spotted carrying his unconscious body into the room.

“Akello, I’m here.” She informed looking around. If there were security cameras, that could pose an issue.

_“I’ve set the cameras on a loop,”_ Akello told her. _“Look to your right.”_ Abby complied and saw Akello approaching her, laptop in hand, smiling. Getting out of the car, Abby approached her.

“Nice job,” Abby complimented. “That didn’t take long at all.”

The young African snorted. “I could do this with my eyes closed. You didn’t do so bad yourself.”

“Well, here’s your first piece,” Abby handed her the ID. “He’s in room 401, so I’d appreciate it if you opened it. He’s going to be heavy enough as it is.”

Akello nodded and Abby opened the passenger side door and after some tugging, slung Madvay’s body over her shoulders. Dragging might have been quicker, but this was easier. Still, he wasn’t exactly a feather.

It wasn’t a big room, fortunately, and she unceremoniously tossed him onto the bed. Akello was already by Madvay’s desktop computer. She quickly went through his pockets, found his wallet and set that to the side. There wasn’t much else of interest, so she began stripping his clothes off.

Biting her lip, Akello looked over and her eyes widened. “What are you doing?” She asked incredulously.

“Setting a scene,” Abby explained as she worked. “He wakes up naked and assumes we have sex. Matches up with his memories from this night, so he doesn’t think anything’s wrong. Combined with his hangover, he’ll just assume it happened and he can’t remember it.”

“Are you sure that will work?” Akello asked, typing on the computer. “I mean, I’d think that’d be the one thing you _don’t_ forget. Especially with you mysteriously gone.”

Finished, Abby stood up and tossed his clothes haphazardly around the room. “He’s not going to wake up for another eight hours. He’ll understand why I left, especially since I’ll leave a message telling I was called into work. Since I told him I’m a surgeon, he’ll believe that.”

“Clever,” Akello commented. “Well, in the meantime, I’ll enjoy going through his files. A lot of boring stuff, but we can get a lot from these.”

“Got this too,” Abby held up the wallet. “Might be something interesting here.”

Akello’s eyes lit up. “Give that here,” she asked and Abby complied. Pulling out some sort of rectangular box, she began sliding the cards into it which were ejected from the other end.

“What is that?” Abby asked.

“Takes digital images and imprints of cards,” Akello explained as she put a hard drive into her pack. “We can then alter the images or just create new, perfect copies. Perfect for forging and stealing identities.”

“Neat.” Once she was done, Abby placed the wallet and keys into his pants pocket, essentially leaving it as she found it. “You got what you needed?”

“Yep,” Akello shut down her laptop and looked up. “A successful mission, I’d say.”

Abby let out a sigh of relief. “Went better than I expected, honestly.”

“Seriously,” Akello agreed. “Looks like no one will ever know we were here.”

“Well, I’m not complaining,” Abby shrugged. “I guess our next stop is Russia.”

“To Russia we go,” Akello repeated and they both walked out to regroup with the rest of the team.

***

Cerian, with Rey and Olivia behind him arrived at the meeting point. They’d designated a low-budget hotel where people didn’t ask too many questions. Cerian knocked on the door. “We’re here.”

“Passcode?” Baston asked through the door.

Very funny. He would have given some sarcastic answer had he not been concerned about attracting attention. “Open the door. Now.”

“Fine,” there was a click and Baston opened the door. Him and Darril had assault rifles in their hands in the unlikely event they were discovered. All three of them quickly entered the room and shut the door.

“Good job, everyone,” Cerian said as he locked the door and turned to face them. Mary was sitting barefoot and cross-legged on the bed, her laptop resting on her legs. Several boxes of pizza were on the bed and she currently was eating a piece.

“That went pretty smoothly,” Olivia said, slumping down into a chair and yawning. “Though I still don’t have a clue what they were after.”

“Well, they’re clearly interested in the company,” Cerian stated, pursing his lips. “But _why_ is definitely the biggest question right now. I think we’ll find more concrete answers if we keep tracking them.”

“You get an image of that bartender?” Ren asked as he started eating a piece of pizza.

“No,” Cerian sighed. “And I certainly wasn’t going to risk it after Ruth showed up. I can describe him, but I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. He’s probably not on any systems if he _is_ a Kidon agent, anyway.”

“Speaking of which,” Mary raised her half-eaten slice of pizza. “What the hell was that with Ruth?”

“I have no idea,” he answered honestly, sitting down at the end of the bed. “It was bizarre. I don’t think she had any idea who I was.”

“Odd,” Mary shrugged. “Whatever, you completely played her. Well done.”

They all burst into a half-sarcastic round of applause. “Yeah, good for you,” Olivia commented. “At least you didn’t have to listen to two and a half hours of absolutely nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Ren chided. “You didn’t find it a little funny listening to her obviously sweet-talking him? I’ve got to steal some of those lines. She wasn’t half-bad.”

“I think we should also figure out why an XCOM soldier is involved in an operation like this,” Cerian reminded them. “This was an op clearly designed by a professional. As in an _Intelligence_ professional. XCOM might have something of an intelligence division now.”

“And they didn’t tell the Council,” Darril shook his head. “Wow.”

Olivia snorted. “Genius if you ask me. Why reveal such an asset?”

“We’ll sort out XCOM’s Intelligence division, or lack thereof later,” Cerian interrupted, raising a hand. “Mary, you know where they’re going?”

“Well, the car they’re using seems to be heading to an airport,” Mary answered. “And if I had to guess they’re going to Russia. Specifically where that company is located.”

“Then we have our next destination,” Cerian stated. “Mary, keep track and I want the rest of you looking through any intel we have on this company. Personnel, security, _all_ of it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!” They affirmed.

“Take a few minutes to recover,” he ordered, leaning back. “Then we get to work.”

 

 

  

 

 

 


	12. Alien Abduction: Mexico

 

_The Citadel, Medical Ward_

The Commander, flanked by Shen and Blake Harkin, strode down the hallway in the Medical Ward. The new Chief Medic wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of them visiting, let alone allowing them to perform the MEC procedure on her; but he’d allowed them to visit Myra, weakened as she was. Not that the Commander was giving him much choice, since he felt Blake was being overcautious. Soldiers were tough, more so than medics liked to believe.

“Commander, I must stress that she might not be physically able,” Blake warned again, his tone attempting to remain respectful. “And from what you’ve told me about this…procedure, it could be highly traumatic for her.”

“Which is why I’m letting her decide,” the Commander reminded him, not looking back. “This is an option for her to consider. Nothing more.”

“That being said, she’s going to feel pressured to go through with it,” Blake insisted. “No disrespect intended, sir.”

“None taken,” the Commander nodded, moderately pleased he wasn’t afraid to question him. “It’s an issue among military personnel. Which is why I’m letting you stay. I’m sure you’ll feel compelled to add your medical opinion.”

“Oh,” Blake verbally seemed to shrug. “Well, I appreciate that.”

They reached the room and Blake opened the door and entered first. Myra was awake on the bed staring into the ceiling, a thin sheet covering her body. A few IV tubes were connected, but she was off life support and breathing assistance. It was difficult not to focus on the stump of her arm that already seemed smaller.

Upon hearing the door open, she quickly tried to reposition herself into a more professional position until the Commander raised a hand. “At ease, soldier.” She complied and sank back down into the bed for few seconds, then tried to get into a more comfortable sitting position at a much slower pace.

“I didn’t expect to see you, Commander,” Myra said, her voice cracked and tired. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Harkin tells me you’re recovering well,” the Commander said, taking one of the seats that had been placed in the corner and setting it by her. Sitting down at eye level, he continued. “But I want to be sure for myself.”

Myra looked up at the blank ceiling. “I’m still tired,” she admitted. “But no pain. Unfortunately no pain. I can move _this_ arm,” she raised her good hand. “And my body. But I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

The Commander looked over at Blake. The good doctor had failed to mention this. “You didn’t mention she was paralyzed,” he stated coldly. Blake swallowed.

“As I explained to Mrs. Rodriguez, it’s not a permanent paralysis,” he explained hastily. “With dedicated physical therapy, she will probably be able to walk again with assistance.”

“Yeah,” Myra snorted. “A real comfort, that. _With assistance_.”

The Commander sighed. While it might not have been worst-case scenario, he would have preferred _knowing_ if one of his soldiers was that wounded, even if only temporarily. He’d have to deal with that later, since he was sure Blake hadn’t _meant_ to omit that information. Probably just didn’t consider it important enough.

“I’ll get to the point,” the Commander said, standing. “As things stand right now, you’re incapable of combat and will receive an honorable discharge. I’ll personally ensure your expenses are taken care of.”

Myra sighed, looking down sadly. “Figured as much. A shame, I’d stay on if I could.”

A good start, though he’d suspected as much. “I’m not finished,” he told her, raising a hand. “XCOM engineering has developed prosthetics than are arguably as good as an actual limbs. You’ll receive them regardless of what you decide.”

She looked over at him, an eyebrow raised. “What I _decide_?”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. “Because there is another option for you,” he motioned Shen forward. “Tell her about the MECs.”

Shen adjusted his glasses. “We’ve been working on more advanced technology to utilize against the aliens. Our most promising is the MEC project,” he handed her a tablet with drawings and concepts. “It’s something of an exoskeleton, but on a far larger scale. There is much we could do with such a modifiable machine. It could be outfitted for close-quarters, long range or artillery.”

“You need pilots,” Myra guessed, looking at him. “It looks impressive, but how could one person control something this size?”

“The pilots would have to be altered to properly sync with the MEC,” Shen continued, his tone reserved. “This requires…” he trailed off. The Commander didn’t.

“It will require the amputation of your limbs and reinforcement and reconstruction of your torso and brain,” the Commander finished. “You’d get replacement limbs and implants designed to interface with the MEC suits.”

Myra coughed. “That is…not what I expected.” She frowned as she looked at the pictures. “Just how useful would this realistically be?”

“We’ve run dozens of simulations with various armor configurations,” Shen answered. “The current prototype is designed to withstand an artillery barrage. How this will compare to the aliens, we still don’t have field data. But it’s not wrong to think that this could alter the course of the war in our favor.”

“I believe the MEC project will be essential in the war,” the Commander told her. “It is an extreme sacrifice but one that could be key to ensuring the survival of the human race-“

He paused as Myra raised a hand, a slight smile on her face. “Skip the speech, Commander. You don’t have to convince me, I’ll do it.”

He blinked. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected she would refuse. But this quickly? “I won’t force you to do this,” he reminded her. “It’s a choice and one I would understand if-“

“No need,” Myra shook her head again. “I understand that and I believe you when you say I have a choice. But I also know you don’t ask without reason; if you believe that these MECs will be essential in winning the war, than I do as well. You wouldn’t ask this if you weren’t convinced it was necessary.” The corners of her lips twitched up. “I know we have our differences, but you don’t lie to your soldiers.”

There was silence for a minute.

Moments like these were _why_ he worked to get soldiers what they needed and ensure they were taken care of. Aside from simple decency, respecting those under you cultivated loyalty and in turn, trust. And what reassured him most was that he wasn’t lying to convince her, he stood behind everything that he’d said. If the MEC project met his expectations, he truly believed it would change the course of the war.

He was somewhat amused to hear Blake practically stutter out a response. “Mrs. Rodriguez, while your dedication is commendable, I think you should know that there might be side effects.”

“Yes,” Shen nodded solemnly. “I think you should hear-“

“Is the procedure dangerous?” Myra interrupted bluntly.

Shen and the Commander exchanged a look. “No,” Shen admitted. “We have ensured that the procedure isn’t dangerous.”

He didn’t mention that Vahlen’s first attempt had killed one of the test subjects accidentally. The Commander hadn’t been present, but it had apparently been an…unpleasant experience. Vahlen had assured him that she’d noted the error and that it wouldn’t happen again. To prove it she’d repeated the procedure, this time successfully.

The modified test subject was now in the cells and Vahlen had said she would expose him to a variety of stimulants and chemicals to see if the brain reacted any differently. A few days in and already down two prisoners. Ah well, it was an unexpected expense; he’d have figured Vahlen would have gotten a bit more use out of them before they needed to be replenished.

But such were the risks of new technology. He might as well order another batch. More test subjects couldn’t hurt. But hopefully Vahlen’s monitoring would help either predict issues with Myra or create ways to relieve any discomfort. There had also been a marked change in the way the test subjects had reacted to Vahlen entering.

Before it had been jeers, taunts and threats. When he’d entered a second time with her, the reaction had almost been negligible. All of them had watched warily, not with fear, not yet. But they were starting to understand just what their fate was. Perhaps they thought appeasement would work and compliance would be rewarded. It wouldn’t, but neither him, nor Vahlen sought to correct that misconception.

“Will my ability to function be inhibited?” Myra continued asking.

“Technically, no,” Shen sighed. “You should be able to perform normal functions. But you won’t be quite as…lucid, as you are now.”

“You won’t be the same person,” Blake warned, crossing his arms. “You can’t if you want complete synchronization with the MEC suit.”

Shen shot a glance his way. “While I do feel that is a concern, I also think it’s wise to note that we _don’t know for sure_. You could be completely unaffected or you mind could be reduced to an automaton. _That’s_ what you need to consider most. Are you willing to risk losing your personality? Or any chance at a normal life?”

Myra contemplated for a few minutes. “I appreciate the concern,” she nodded at Shen and Blake. “From both of you. But my answer remains the same,” She nodded down at her legs. “Shen, I lost any chance for a normal life when my arm was ripped off and legs were paralyzed. I’ll _never_ have a normal life, whether or not I have the procedure done or not.”

Her tone turned softer. “Aside from that, I can’t leave now. Not after everything that has happened. Not if I can still help in some way. But the best reason is that it’s the right thing to do.” She looked at the Commander. “You’re always going to have a first subject; a guinea pig, and if things go wrong with me, it’ll help make things safer for future soldiers.”

The Commander nodded. “It will.”

Myra indicated him. “Yes. You of all people understand sometimes sacrifice is necessary. And this is one risk I fully understand and will take.”

The three men exchanged looks. “I suppose it’s settled then,” Shen finally said. “Very well. You will undergo the procedure as soon as possible.”

“Just tell me when,” Myra nodded.

“I guess I won’t change your mind,” Blake sighed. “But I admire your bravery.”

“As do I,” the Commander saluted and inclined his head towards her. “Thank you.”

Shen and Blake exited the door and the Commander moved to follow when he heard Myra’s voice. “A moment, Commander.”

He closed the door and turned around to face her. Myra appraised him thoughtfully. “Question,” she said. “Why did you ask me? Certainly there are others who are in better condition.”

The Commander paused before answering. “The practical reason is that you were the best candidate for this trial. Aside from that, I didn’t think you’d willingly leave and this afforded you the opportunity to stay.” The Commander paused. “On a more personal level, this isn’t something I want to offer everyone.”

Myra didn’t look surprised. “Quite honestly, Commander, I don’t think you’d have trouble finding volunteers for these type of projects. Even if some of us have reservations about your past, you’ve proven someone worthy of following. You have our loyalty.”

“I know,” the Commander sighed and leaned against the wall. “Which is why I’m limiting who I select. Blind loyalty is dangerous and I’m well aware of my position and the pressure I unwittingly exert. You’re more skeptical of me than most, and oddly, that makes you more qualified in my eyes. For something like this I need to know you actually want to do it and aren’t following out of blind loyalty or fear.”

Myra gave him a wan smile. “That’s more reassuring than you know, Commander. Keep that attitude and you will retain our loyalty. Keep the skeptics around, they keep you grounded.”

“That they do,” the Commander agreed, looking over. “It’s difficult sometimes. I sometimes don’t know if the people are agreeing with me are being truthful or simply afraid of my position. It’s a problem I’m not sure can ever be fixed.”

He wasn’t completely sure why he was telling her this. Perhaps he just wanted a normal conversation where he wasn’t the Commander and Myra seemed to be indulging him. As much as he wanted to become more involved with the regular soldiers, it was becoming more difficult as time simply didn’t allow for casual conversations between them.

Because at heart, he was still a soldier. The longer this war went on, he felt that he was contributing less and less even if that wasn’t true. He missed personally leading the charge; sharing in the terror, danger and thrill of combat. He missed feeling like he was actually _contributing_ to the mission instead of watching it on a screen.

He disliked it when leaders commanded from the back without understanding the risks soldiers faced daily. But people had designated him as “too important to lose” and while he understood it, he didn’t know if he agreed or not. He’d never considered himself as a genius or someone who was coming up with new and creative ways to move armies. What set him apart was that he had no restrictions; he had no rules. That was the only reason that he wasn’t joining the soldiers on missions as often as he liked.

Because if he died, then the war would be lost. Humanity would fall because the leaders lacked the will to do what must be done. They’d gone against their better judgment when they’d put him in charge and if he died, he had no doubt they’d replace him with someone safe, compliant and _lawful_.

And condemn the human race in the process.

“I think that if you’re asking those questions, you’re doing something right,” Myra finally said. “I guess you have to trust that they’re telling the truth,” she shrugged. “I don’t know what goes on in your inner circle, but if you treat them with the same respect you treat us, I’d say you have little to worry about.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you, Myra. That’s more reassuring than you know.”

“Don’t forget where you came from and you’ll be fine,” Myra reassured him. “I’ll see you after the procedure, Commander.” She saluted him as best she could and he returned it solemnly.

With that he left the room, many ideas running through his mind. It wasn’t fair for the soldiers to risk themselves with no risk to himself. That was going to change, as much as possible.

Something to remind them why they followed him.

Something to figure out later, as his earpiece beeped indicating something was happening in the Situation Room.

Back to work.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Soran regretted putting off reading the contingencies until now. He’d expected it to be dry and boring, like nearly all military documents were. Honestly, it wouldn’t kill them to hire some actual writers to make it a bit more appealing for the average soldiers. Then people might actually _read_ those documents.

But quite honestly, he didn’t know whether it was simply written better or because it was so brutally straightforward. There was a hard list of bullet points stating the situations and responses thereof.

And the responses…the Thanatos Contingency in particular was uncompromising. He had to shake his head. The sheer gall it must have taken to write this was worthy of commendation. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or appalled at what was written, but it was certainly _not_ boring.

No wonder there were rumors of tension between the Commander and the Council. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure these violated UN mandates in several places, but he was getting the general impression that the soldiers, along with the Commander, didn’t really care anymore. Many of them were just focused on winning the war, justifiably so.

He did wonder if they considered what would happen when the war was over. Soran personally wasn’t convinced that the Council would simply forget them, especially if they utilized methods like the Hades Contingency. The thing was, if humanity was going to survive, it would be primarily XCOM that would be responsible for it.

Which would leave the organization itself with a large amount of political leverage, something he was sure the Commander would exploit. It would be interesting if after the war, the Council tried to disband XCOM. Something that he personally found unlikely. Like it or not, XCOM wasn’t going away.

Another thing that he’d been noticing is that the newer soldiers were “assimilated,” for lack of a better word after a few missions. Nationalities weren’t as big a deal as he assumed they would be. There weren’t any rivalries between soldiers outside of the sparring ring, at least none based on nationality. When Israeli and Iranian _soldiers_ were seen having a normal conversation and laughing together, it was a sign that nationality wasn’t important.

It seemed to an unspoken implication when soldiers arrived: _We don’t care where you came from, only what you’ll do to help._ An admirable quality that was…quite surprising and should be concerning to their homelands. He wondered if these nations realized that their soldiers likely no longer were loyal to them, but _XCOM_ specifically.

He’d caught himself thinking that way several times. As an XCOM soldier and not any of his previous identities and titles. That feeling of a common cause was one he’d only felt several times in his life and he didn’t expect to feel it _here_ of all places. He wondered if there was a similar phenomenon with NATO as it was also a UN coalition composed of various nations.

Hmm. Maybe not, since the common cause with XCOM was literally the survival of the human race. Past national rivalries seemed petty in that perspective, but really, what was NATO’s cause? Protecting countries that already had strong militaries? As a deterrent to nations like Israel or Russia? Not to mention that they probably only recruited from UN members whereas XCOM recruited from everywhere.

“Not what you were expecting?” Soran looked from the table up to see one of the soldiers approaching him. Wearing the standard XCOM military fatigues with several knives strapped to his belt, he was one of the larger men at the base. Soran recalled him as one of the newer recruits, though he wasn’t sure of his name.

His blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his black skin and hair, the latter of which was simply a buzz cut. He had a neatly trimmed beard that covered his cheeks and chin, a fairly full one at that. Soran raised an eyebrow. “You even know what I’m reading?”

“The contingencies are probably the only XCOM issue document that could engross you so fully,” the soldier pointed out. “I did the same thing.”

Soran set down the documents. “And what did you think?”

He shrugged. “Definitely more interesting than the standard bunch. But I don’t really concern myself with contingencies. Worst-case scenarios rarely happen and aren’t worth getting worried over.”

“You think the UN knows about these?” Soran asked, cocking his head.

“Doubt it,” the soldier shrugged with a smirk. “I mean, I wouldn’t. The UN would pitch a fit, rightfully or no. It’d just be a distraction and ultimately amount to fear-mongering.”

Hmm. Considering that some of the contingencies dealt with the potential authorized execution of civilians, UN forces and foreign governments, Soran couldn’t help but the think the UN _might_ be justified in being a little concerned. “You don’t these are open to abuse?” He asked, a question that had been on his mind since reading the Zeus Contingency.

The soldier appeared to consider it. “Of course,” he finally said. “Every contingency is open to abuse in some ways. You can’t get around that?”

“I suppose that’s my concern,” Soran admitted. “With these contingencies in place, the wrong person could order us into subduing a country. Or worse.”

“I see your point,” the soldier admitted. “But I really don’t think it’s a concern, at least not with the Commander. He seems like a good, sound leader. Creed trusts him not to make idiotic decisions and that’s a pretty good endorsement for me.”

Soran frowned. “Not that I’m disputing that, but what makes his endorsement worth more?”

“Ah, right,” the man gave a wide smile displaying his pure white teeth. “I don’t think we’ve formally met,” he extended a hand. “Samuel Roche, United States Army Ranger.”

Soran took it firmly. _Ah_. Yes, that made more sense, a recommendation from a SEAL was likely to mean more to a Ranger than the average person. Although… “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he began. “But I thought…well, that the Rangers and SEALs…”

“What?” Samuel chuckled. “Have a rivalry? Oh, we do. Internally. But strictly professional, mind you. Sure, there are a few that take it a little more personally, but as a whole we mostly try to outdo each other. Nothing more or less.”

“Well, that’s good,” Soran said. “Guess I should be careful who I listen to. At least when it comes to Americans.”

“Hey, even if it did, I doubt it’d last,” Samuel pointed out. “We have bigger things to worry about than kill counts and mission streaks.”

They actually did that? It seemed somewhat morbid, and unprofessional to brag about your kill count. Then again, he might have been joking.

Although…he’d heard soldiers talking about how many aliens they’d personally killed without anyone batting an eye. But that was alright because they were _aliens_ and thus human norms didn’t apply to them.

Right. “Soran Kakusa,” he introduced himself. “Japanese 1st Airborne Brigade.”

“Impressive,” Samuel inclined his head. “The Japanese don’t just promote anyone to that unit.”

“No,” Soran recalled what he’d done to get there. “They certainly don’t.” He looked over at the Ranger. “Though that isn’t quite as impressive as joining the Rangers.”

“All a matter of perspective,” Samuel dismissed. “No more or less impressive than yours. We’re just in different units.”

“Which of the states are you from?” Soran asked.

“None,” Samuel answered, surprising him. “I’m an immigrant. Haitian, actually.”

Well, _that_ was interesting. He considered dropping the next obvious question, but Samuel didn’t seem like he would take _that_ much offense. “Did you leave before-“

“ _During_ ,” Samuel corrected slowly and deliberately, tone softening. “I wasn’t very old, but my father and I managed to get out before the virus killed the remaining population.”

Well, he had a new level of respect for the Ranger. Not only had he escaped the Haitian Purges, but had also made it to America, presumably become a citizen and then joined one of the most elite units in the United States military.

“You definitely had it harder than me,” Soran said honestly, shaking his head. “I won’t accept false modesty this time.”

“Fair enough,” Samuel smiled. “Where are you-“

He cut himself off as the wristbands started vibrating, both of theirs. They both looked at each other. “Well,” Samuel shrugged. “Looks like we’re both going to hunt some aliens.”

“Best to get ready,” Soran said as he got up. “Wouldn’t want to hold everyone up.”

“Very true,” Samuel agreed, moving to his locker and pulled out his autolaser. “I hate latecomers.”

***

_Skyranger, En route to Abduction Zone_

“It’s an abduction that happened in Mexico,” Creed told them as they sped toward the country. “I don’t know more than that. The Commander will be updating.”

Aside from Samuel and Soran, the rest of the squad were veterans of XCOM. Soran didn’t know many well, but he did remember their names. Roman Mendoza was actually from Mexico, so it wasn’t a surprise that this mission would include him. The man had been quieter than the rest so far, a sentiment Soran could understand.

Rob Gorman was a United States Marine, and he looked more than happy to be working with a SEAL _and_ Ranger. It was interesting how a position influence how they were treated so much. But he’d probably do his job well and not cause issues.

Vickie Webb was probably the least experienced aside from himself and Samuel. She’d been on several missions, but didn’t have quite the track record of Creed and the rest. But she seemed reasonably competent.

“I thought we didn’t have to worry about that anymore,” Roman noted. “Isn’t North America covered under these satellites?”

“They can’t get everything,” Vickie sighed. “Or it could mean that they’ve figured out how to sneak under our radar.”

_“Incorrect, Specialist Webb,”_ the Commander interrupted through their helmets. _“The satellites are the only reason we know an abduction is taking place at all. It’s an unmarked village that’s a haven for the poorer citizens and criminals. No government would care about it, if they even know it exists. But this gives us a chance to strike another blow against the aliens, no matter where it is.”_

“Why would they target somewhere like that?” Samuel asked, concern in his voice.

_“A good question,”_ the Commander agreed. _“It is odd. They normally target more populated and fairly healthy areas. It’s a change of pace that we need to investigate.”_

“It’s probably run by the Cartels,” Roman suggested. “They like to run their operations in places the governments abandon. Perhaps the aliens are taking an interest in them?”

He could almost feel the skepticism from Creed. “And just _why_ would the aliens care about a bunch of thugs and drug dealers?”

“Scoff if you like, but the Cartels are among the most organized criminal organizations in the world,” Roman countered. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with them before. They don’t tolerate incompetence or inefficiency.”

“It still doesn’t explain why the aliens would care,” Vickie shrugged. “Did the Cartels do something to them?”

Soran could swear he could have heard the Commander snort, but it might have been static. _“The Cartels would stand no chance against the aliens. No, I doubt they’re interested in the organization itself.”_

“Perhaps the narcotics?” Soran suggested as a thought struck him. “If this place is one of their manufacturing labs, they would be able to haul in a _lot_ of high-quality drugs.”

Creed glanced over at him. “Not a bad suggestion, Soran. Didn’t think of that.”

“It’s possible,” Roman agreed slowly, as he clasped his hands together. “Though I’m still not completely sure what they’re gaining from this.”

“Perhaps they want to weaponize it?” Rob suggested, looking to Creed. “In large enough quantities, it could neutralize a population.”

“They already _can_ neutralize a population,” Soran reminded him, gesturing with his hand. “How do you think they’re abducting entire towns?”

“While you have a point, Rob does as well,” Creed interjected. “I would see it being more effective for neutralizing soldiers in combat. Throw some of that at them and then kill them while they’re high and distracted.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Vickie suggested lightly. “Maybe the aliens are using for themselves. Who says aliens don’t enjoy getting high?”

They all chuckled at that. Soran had the mental image of some of the sectoids sitting around with cigars smoking weed and taking injections of heroin. Yep, that sounded about right. The Commander also sounded amused. _“While I wouldn’t be concerned with that possibility, I’d prefer any kind of drugs kept out of their hands. Provided this is a Cartel drug lab in the first place. Standard orders apply; go in, secure the area and wipe out any aliens.”_

“Understood, Commander.” Creed affirmed.

_“Excellent, Citadel Command, out.”_

They flew in silence for a few minutes and Soran fiddled with his laser SMG. He was considering just taking a rifle next time, more firepower was more useful than mobility in most situations, especially when the rifle didn’t weigh much more. _“This is Big Sky to Bull Team,”_ Big Sky informed over the intercoms. _“We’re approaching the abduction zone. Prepare for aeriel insertion.”_

The lights flashed to a solid red. Showtime. “Understood, Big Sky,” Creed confirmed as he stood. “We’re ready when you are.”

Soran felt the skyranger descending as they moved into position. Samuel was to his side, his laser sniper rifle at the ready and Creed in front of him, battle rifle also drawn. A few minutes later the skyranger showed until it was hovering and the ramp opened and a wave of warm air hit them.

“Deploy!” Creed ordered and charged out as the ropes descended. Soran grasped one and jumped off, weapon at the ready as he descended into the complex of rotting shacks and bodies.

***

_Unknown Location, Mexico_

They all landed within the span of a few seconds. The first thing Soran noticed were the bodies splayed along the streets. Old, abandoned and rusty cars lined the streets, most with flat tires or none at all. Some were completely overtaken by vegetation or stripped completely. The roads were also cracked and practically unusable now. The whole area reeked of poverty and abandonment.

But there’d clearly been at least some people living. The buildings, while haphazard and rotten, they’d clearly been furnished to some capacity, even if it was only a bedroll with a few sheets. Some dirty and torn toys were scattered around the houses, indicating that some of the inhabitants were children. There were also wrappers and some uneaten food lying around. _Fresh_ food, so what happened had to have been recent.

“This is Squad Overseer Creed to Citadel Command,” Creed informed them as he raised his weapon. “We’ve touched down. Multiple casualties already.”

_“The alien usually don’t leave corpses,”_ the Commander answered. _“Be on guard.”_

“Yes, sir.” Creed motioned them forward. “Roman, check out the body. Everyone else, take position. Overwatch protocol.”

“Yes, Overseer!” They confirmed and Soran carefully approached one of the abandoned cars and crouched in front of the hood. Any weapons fire would likely tear through the rotten shelters, and while this metal wasn’t in the best condition, it would give him _some_ legitimate cover.

“Are they Cartel?” He heard Creed ask Roman as they knelt in front of one of the bodies.

“I think so,” Roman confirmed. “These weapons are top quality, and this one is wearing a bulletproof vest. Not many civilians with both, so they must have been guarding something important.”

“Definitely died to a plasma wound,” Creed added, looking closer at the corpse. “Based on his expression, I’m guessing he was left to die after being shot.”

Soran looked across the street and spotted another body with blood splattered on his chest. How sad. Well, at least the aliens were efficient.

Hold up.

The body was splattered with _blood_. Plasma weapons cauterized the wound to an extent, essentially preventing blood loss. So if he was splattered with blood, either he’d killed himself or…

“I’m going to look at this body,” Soran called out to Creed.

Vickie looked over at him. “Why? That interested in seeing more corpses?”

“Wait,” Creed held up his hand for him to stop and pointed at Roman. “Stay here, Roman. Weapon up.” Roman nodded and raised his laser rifle as he watched the street.

Once Creed was by his side, Soran walked over to the body and knelt down. No, he’d been wounded, no question. A trail of dried blood ran down from a hole in his forehead. “They were killed with ballistics,” Soran noted. “Odd.”

“Yes, it is…” Creed sounded puzzled. “The only form of ballistics the aliens use are from the cyberdisks, and I’ve seen the damage those can cause. No way this is a cyberdisk; far too clean.”

“Then who?” Soran asked, equally confused. “I don’t think the aliens chose to abduct when they were under attack from a rival group.”

“I doubt it,” Creed agreed. “And the body is fresh, so this wasn’t done a few days ago?”

_“The aliens do utilize a form of telepathy,”_ the Commander interjected. _“Perhaps they used it to force them to attack each other.”_

“Possible,” Creed mused, looking further down the street. “But we haven’t seen the aliens utilize direct mind control before.”

_“It doesn’t need to be mind control,”_ the Commander reminded him. _“You’ve heard what happened Ramsey. Psionically induced panic would work as well as direct mind control.”_

Soran frowned. “What was that?” He wasn’t familiar with that story.

“Patricia told me,” Creed explained. “It was one of the first encounters of psionics. The sectoid forced one of the soldiers into a panic. It worked and he shot another soldier.”

“Ah,” Soran mentally shivered at that. Psionics had always disconcerted him and stories like these were a good reason why. The fact that the sectoids were fairly proficient at these didn’t help matters. He hated the little gray buggers, with their mouthless faces and shriveled bodies.

He shook his head to clear it of thoughts of sectoids and psionics. Then paused as a new thought struck him. “Perhaps we’ve got it wrong,” he looked over at Creed. “If they’ve gotten stronger, it would make sense to do some field testing. This might not be an abduction, but instead a field exercise.”

“Let’s hope not,” Creed muttered grimly. “Because then it looks like a successful one if that’s the case. Although something still seems off,” he pointed at the head. “That headshot is clean. Whoever killed him knew how to aim.”

“Just a theory,” Soran defended, standing back up. “If this person was mind-controlled, this might have been the bullet from his friends that put him down. Do you have another reason for why some of the bodies were shot with ballistics?”

_“There was similar situation during a France operation,”_ the Commander interjected. _“But that wasn’t due to the aliens. And I’d be inclined to believe the same organization is behind it, except that some of these men died from plasma wounds.”_

“What organization?” Rob asked curiously.

_“EXALT,”_ the Commander answered. _“We’re still learning about them. But this is a separate issue from the aliens. I don’t see a reason why they’d expend resources on an entire village, not to mention that they don’t have plasma weaponry.”_

“So what’s our move,” Creed asked, motioning them to advance. “I think everyone is gone. With an area this small, I don’t think it would take long to take them, especially if it’s mostly civilians.”

_“This is Central, Overseer Creed,”_ Bradford spoke up. _“We’re detecting life signs in your area, some we can’t make out. We assume these are the aliens.”_

“Where?” Creed demanded.

_“Sending you a map of the area,”_ Bradford answered. _“There’s a warehouse just ahead. Most of the signatures are coming from around there.”_

“Understood,” Creed looked back at the squad and motioned them forward. “Advance, but watch for movement.”

They all affirmed and began moving slowly through the shelters, rubble and corpses. Ahead there was a warehouse, a clear improvement over the current conditions. It wasn’t falling apart and seemed relatively clean compared to the rest of the area. The warehouse door was in a pretty terrible position, right in front of a crumbling house, which was arguably one of the best in the village. They would be in a terrible position if they were ambushed.

“This is probably a trap,” Soran muttered as they set up outside the warehouse door.

“Which is why we aren’t going in,” Creed told them, as he tested lifting the door open. “We’re just going to stay on the outskirts.” Stepping back, he appraised the door. “Locked,” he nodded at Rob. “Cut it out, you take the right side.” Rob nodded and they raised their rifles at the door and used sustained beams to cut through the door.

Creed kicked the square of cut metal inward and it fell down with a loud clang. At the edge of the door, Soran peeked inside as they both reloaded their rifles. It was very open, with tables covered in substances and powders he assumed were drugs. To the far left were some rooms that he assumed were for administrative purposes. There were some steel catwalks above the room, but they offered little protection.

“Looks like you were right about this being a drug plant,” Vickie muttered. “Look at all this stuff.”

“All this stuff that’s still here,” Creed noted, concern in his voice. “So the alien apparently didn’t want it.”

_“Overseer Creed, be advised all the signatures we’ve detected have vanished,”_ the Commander warned. _“Find a defensible position now!”_

“Fall back,” Creed ordered stepping back. “We wait-“

Soran saw a flicker or orange coming from inside the warehouse and frowned. Was that-?

“Rocket!” Roman screamed and Soran leapt to the right, swearing he could feel the heat as it passed him. All of them managed to dodge out of the way except Vickie, who barely had time to scream as the rocket directly hit her.

“Look up!” Creed ordered pointing over to the right as Soran saw a figure aiming another rocket launcher at them kneeling in front of a shack across the street. And he looked just in time to see another rocket fired. This time everyone got out of the way in time and the rocket sped past into a shack and exploded with a loud boom. A volley of laser fire from Roman eviscerated the figure and it was dead a few moments later.

The sound of automatic fire filled the air directly behind him and Soran looked into the warehouse to see it filled with…soldiers? _Human_ soldiers? There were at least ten, and all of them looked heavily armored, some wielding rifles and others SAW caliber weapons. Steel armor covered their legs, arms and chest with heavy padding on all the joints. All of them had some sort of orange shoulder cape and oddly enough, orange bandannas, some of which seemed to have symbols or markings on them.

“Barricade!” One of the soldiers, a woman, ordered as she motioned at them.

With a shock, Soran realized she was wielding a plasma rifle. How had she…? He was forced to back into cover as a few of the heavy gunners laid down suppressive fire on the entrance.

“They’re coming in from the right!” Roman yelled as the squad tried returning fire. Soran looked to the right to see a trio of soldiers approaching. A few more followed behind them, taking cover behind cars and shacks. The leader of the trio slammed a large metal pole down and a second later it shot out metal sheets to the side, effectively creating new cover.

“Who _are_ these guys?” Rob shouted as he fired a sustained beam at a soldier hiding in a shack. A scream indicated it was a hit. Roman fired a sustained beam at the shining new cover, but the laser curved upward as if reflected. Soran cursed, these soldiers had clearly come prepared. How could they possibly have known about XCOM, let alone developed specialized tech to use against them?

“Ask that later!” Creed snarled, leaning on the opposite side of the entrance as Soran. “Soran and I will hold down here. Take care of the flankers!”

“Yes, sir!” Roman acknowledged and he began shooting at the trio hiding behind the makeshift cover.

“The leader’s got a plasma rifle,” Soran told Creed urgently as he peeked in to see the other soldiers had also set up makeshift cover.

“I saw,” Creed confirmed. “And those metal shields are resistant to lasers. We’ll figure that out later. Twin sustained beams, that should cut through them.”

“On three?” Soran asked, readying his weapon.

Creed nodded and on three Soran took aim at the far left soldier and began firing a sustained beam and quickly moved right, Creed followed suit. The first soldier was caught off guard and the beam decapitated him, but the remaining soldiers got wise and ducked under the beams.

Soran scowled. Creed had gotten one as well, but getting two out of ten was _not_ good. Under a hail of bullets, he quickly reloaded a new power cell into his rifle. He could hear the bullets clanking into the wall he was taking cover behind. Suddenly, he felt a lot less safe. He snuck a glance inside and saw the remaining soldiers advancing. That woman was clearly in charge, going off how she was clearly directing and ordering the rest of them.

“Status on the flankers?” Creed called over to Roman.

“Almost done!” He called back from behind a rotten shack. “Two dead-“ He was cut off as two sniper shots rang out and he stumbled back. Soran saw his helmet now bore two black marks, and cracks ran along the visor. The remaining soldiers took advantage of his weakened state and began focusing all their fire on him.

Samuel also took advantage and targeted the standing troopers with his autolaser. The red bolts tore one almost in half and forced the others to fall into cover. It did little to stop the sniper fire, which again fired off two shots.

Barely conscious, Roman pushed himself behind a rusted car and clutched his battered helmet. Soran looked back into the warehouse to see one of the soldiers readying another rocket. Hissing, he raised his rifle and shot a laser beam directly into her forehead and the soldier fell back. The woman made eye contact with him as her comrade fell.

The bandanna obscured her face, but her eyes were filled with fury and glee. Despite her short stature, he couldn’t help but be a little unnerved. He could swear she was smiled as she raised her plasma rifle and fired it.

“Shit!” Creed cursed as Soran saw him looking to his left. Heart sinking, he saw more soldiers approaching them. “They’re boxing us in!”

“We can’t stay!” Samuel called furiously. “We’re too exposed here!”

_Not exposed, trapped_. Soran amended mentally, though he completely agreed.

“Fall back!” Creed ordered. “Soran! Grenade!” Soran nodded and waited for a lull in the storm of bullet fire and took aim directly at the woman then tossed the grenade. It was a perfect throw that landed just by her feet. There was no way she could escape. The soldiers around her dived to the sides but she didn’t bother.

In one smooth motion she reached down, scoped the live grenade in her hand and tossed it behind her without looking. All within two seconds and the grenade exploded behind her another second later. “Not bad!” She called out sounding oddly excited, which he assumed was directed at him

“I’m suppressing these ones here!” Samuel called out. “This way!”

Soran and Creed dashed past him and took positions behind a rusted truck and also began suppressing to give the rest of them a chance to fall back. Some bullets thudded into his back, but the armor absorbed them. For now, anyway.

“Rob, got you covered!” Soran called out as Rob was still shooting from his position inside a shack.

“Understood,” he called back. “Moving!” He jumped out and began running until a plasma bolt clipped him and he spun into the street. Two more plasma bolts followed and also hit their target. The woman marched around the corner, flanked by several more of the soldiers.

“We’re down two,” Soran told Creed. “We can’t hold them off forever.”

“No,” Creed reloaded his rifle and managed to shoot two more. “We can’t. Big Sky, we need an evac now!”

_“Understood, coming in.”_

Roman was still disoriented, but was doing his best to shoot at the soldiers. That sniper, or snipers, really wanted their kill as more sniper fire rained down around him, fortunately not hitting him anymore. They were managing to keep these soldiers from advancing, but they were simply outnumbered and were outplayed from the start.

Samuel managed to score a couple more kills as his autolaser tore through the flimsy cover of the shacks some of the soldiers had hidden behind. A roar above his head made him look up and he saw the skyranger flying over.

It pulled a one-eighty turn and angled itself at the ground. _“Suppressing,”_ Big Sky said calmly as ballistic fire shot out of the skyranger at the general area of the soldiers. _“Move to the evac point!”_

“Go! Go!” Creed shouted and motioned them towards the area under the skyranger. “Roman, you good?!”

“Yes, Overseer!” Roman shouted and they all began running, turning occasionally to fire a wild shot. Their armor was able to take a few rounds, but anything sustained would eventually get through.

_“Landing now,”_ Big Sky told them and the skyranger slowly lowered to the ground, ramp already opening. Almost there…

“Ah!” Soran glanced back to see Roman collapse to the ground, his lower left leg splattered in blood. Soran began rushing towards him as the skyranger landed. “No! Go!” Roman screamed holding up his hand frantically as the soldiers bore down on them. Soran hesitated, not sure what to do.

“Go!” Roman shouted again as they got closer. “They’ll just kill both of us!”

He was right. Plasma and bullets filled the air around him and there wasn’t any time. “I’m sorry,” he told him and dashed to the skyranger. Roman pushed himself up to rest on his good knee and began firing at the approaching soldiers.

They simply took cover, rendering his shooting useless, but it did force them to stop their advance, giving the rest of them time to board the skyranger. Two more sniper shots rang out and Roman collapsed to the ground. Blood dripped from the shattered helmet indicating the snipers had gotten their wish and their kill.

As the skyranger closed up as they sped away, Soran couldn’t help but feel like that was the better way. At least he’d forced them to kill him and wasn’t captured.

In mournful and shocked silence, they flew back to the Citadel, trying to figure out what had happened.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Playful Cocoon

Bull 1 _(Squad Overseer)_ : Specialist Anius Creed

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 3

Bull 2: Specialist Roman Mendoza

            **Status:** Deceased

**Kills:** 4

Bull 3: Specialist Rob Gorman

            **Status:** Deceased

**Kills:** 3

Bull 4: Specialist Vickie Webb

            **Status:** Deceased

**Kills:**   0

Bull 5: Specialist Soran Kakusa

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:**   3

Bull 6: Specialist Samuel Roche

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:**   4

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot: Jason Olgard – Call sign: “Big Sky”

_Artifacts Recovered:_

None: Mission failed.

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Cell Disruption: Russia

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“Get the rest of them up here,” the Commander instructed Bradford neutrally, not looking away from the screens showing the armor cams of the surviving soldiers. “We need to discuss this.”

“Yes, Commander,” Bradford swallowed and walked off, already speaking into his earpiece.

This should not have happened. Even without optimal positioning, they should have been able to fight off any human military force that came their way. Or so he’d thought. Apparently he was wrong on that front, judging from the results staring him in the face. It hadn’t just been a setback, this was a decisive _loss_ that hadn’t happened since that Haiti mission when they’d first encountered the mutons.

Once he’d seen it was going to result in a defeat, he’d enacted the Zeus Contingency, although he doubted it had done much. It had taken too long for the Raven to arrive there and all that the pilot had reported was an abandoned village. They’d cleared out quickly, or had hidden in the buildings. He’d ordered the Raven to raze the area, of course, but he doubted much had been accomplished.

He heard heavy footsteps walk up beside him. Van Doorn; no one else was in the room. “They were good,” the General admitted, lips pursed and features overall exhibiting concern. “Better than they had any reason to be.”

“I suppose you don’t have an idea who they are?” The Commander asked, crossing his arms.

“I know of no unit or organization with that particular color scheme or equipment,” Van Doorn admitted. “That being said, I do not know every military group in existence.”

“These soldiers had special forces-like efficiency,” the Commander pointed out. “Far more so than a typical mercenary organization.” His tone turned grim. “I would be surprised if this wasn’t a government unit of some kind.”

“They’re on their way up,” Bradford informed him, walking over. “I’m working to get stills of the fight, to see if they have any markings.”

“Good,” the Commander thanked. “Who is working to get the images?”

“Ariel Jackson, Commander,” Bradford answered. “She helped contain the EXALT virus.”

Ah, yes. He remembered her now. “Good, let me know if there are any updates,” the Commander told him. Bradford’s hand went to his ear.

“Hold on, I’ll be back,” Bradford walked off again.

“I don’t suppose you know who the woman is?” The Commander asked, looking back at the screens or the assumed leader. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“That bandanna didn’t help,” Van Doorn reminded him. “But no, I didn’t recognize what little of her face I could see.”

“Or why she was carrying a plasma rifle,” the Commander muttered, turning to the holotable. “That’s probably the most concerning.”

“Alien weapons self-destruct upon death,” Van Doorn recalled, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed. “So the only way this woman could have acquired it is if she found it, or it was given to her.”

“Or someone else has managed to develop plasma weaponry before us,” the Commander supposed. “It is not outside the realm of possibility, though highly unlikely.”

“I doubt it,” Van Doorn disagreed, shaking his head. “If so, why not equip all their soldiers with plasma weapons? Furthermore, who could possibly be ahead of us in alien weaponry?”

He had a point. A good one. “I don’t know,” the Commander admitted. “But what is the other possibility? That the aliens just left _one_ rifle unattended or worse, are _allied_ with these soldiers.”

“I’m not sure these soldiers are allied,” Van Doorn said carefully, resting his chin on his hand. “Because wouldn’t the same questions apply? Why not supply your allies with the weaponry that will ensure your opponent’s defeat?”

“To keep them dependent,” the Commander answered immediately. “What I’m doing with Israel and Germany now. Give them some of our technology to fiddle around with, but not enough to give them an advantage over us.”

“Hmm.” Van Doorn didn’t comment on that and instead looked down at the holographic map of the world.

The doors hissed open and Shen, Vahlen and Zhang walked through. “What’s happened?” Vahlen demanded as she strode up to him, concern in her eyes. The Commander motioned them to gather around the holotable.

Bradford saw them gather and walked over to the right end of the table. With Vahlen on his right and Van Doorn on his left, the Commander took a breath and spoke. “A short time ago I sent down a team to investigate an abduction zone. They were ambushed by an unidentified human military force and ultimately driven back.

Vahlen started and twisted her head sharply at him. Shen also looked surprised, but kept better control than Vahlen. Zhang simply narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “A _human_ force?” He repeated slowly.

“Correct, Director,” Bradford confirmed, handed him a tablet which the Commander assumed had stills taken from the fight. “Jackson is converting the videos to holographic form so we should hopefully have better information shortly.”

 “How many did we lose?” Shen asked quietly, sorrow showing on his aged face.

“Three,” the Commander sighed. “And we weren’t able to recover the bodies. I ordered an airstrike on the area, but given how long it took to actually happen, we have to assume they left, probably with the bodies.”

Zhang muttered what sounded like a Chinese curse, and Vahlen added one in German. “Then that means they have our armor and weapons,” Shen realized with a sigh. “And I never had thought to add self-destruct features to them.”

“A mistake,” the Commander nodded. “But one I also bear responsibility for. I should have ordered it as a precaution, even if I didn’t see the need.” He shook his head in frustration. “I didn’t think we had to worry about aliens recovering our weapons; after all, they’re still more advanced than us, so that wasn’t a concern. And I also didn’t think a human military force would be able to best us.” His hand unconsciously curled into a fist. “A mistake that will not be repeated.”

Shen nodded grimly. “I’ll begin converting all of our existing weapons and armor with self-destruct capabilities. Though I must ask, how do you want them done?”

The Commander glanced at Vahlen, then back at Shen. “Ideally, I’d prefer some way that would take out as many aliens or soldiers as possible. But you’re the engineer, Shen, you have a better idea of what’s possible.”

Shen adjusted his glasses. “I’ll see what I can do, Commander.”

“I have an idea as well,” Vahlen interjected, looking towards Shen. “I’ll talk to you after.”

“Excellent,” the Commander leaned on the holotable. “Both of you working on this is preferable.”

“Returning to the mission itself,” Van Doorn redirected, looking thoughtfully at Shen. “I think it’s time to increase the size of our squads. They might have been able to hold out if they weren’t overrun by sheer numbers. One or two could have made all the difference.”

“A good point,” Bradford nodded at Van Doorn. “The aliens are also likely to increase their force size once they know sheer numbers can overwhelm us.”

“The squad size is a limitation of the skyranger, correct?” The Commander asked Shen.

“Correct, Commander,” Shen confirmed. “And yes, it is possible to upgrade it further, though only by two. Any more and a new aircraft will have to be constructed. And I don’t think XCOM can afford anymore new aircraft.”

The Commander frowned at that. “Implying that we already _have_ new aircraft?”

“Ah, yes,” Shen coughed nervously. “When designing the MECs, I knew that we would need some way to transport them to the mission areas. The skyranger obviously wouldn’t do, so I had to come up with another design. I just finished it a day ago and sent it off for manufacturing, I was going to tell you later today, but…you asked us up here first.”

The Commander cocked his head. “And just what are the specifications of this transport.”

“At the moment, it’s designed to hold up to four MEC suits,” Shen explained, handing him his tablet to see the designs. “They’re transported using by hooking and hanging them in the aircraft itself and then dropping them when they’re ready to deploy.”

“Good to know,” the Commander muttered as he looked at the designs. “And this is going to cut into our funds, I assume. Will you be able to upgrade the skyrangers we have?”

“Yes,” Shen answered slowly. “But not all at once. We have enough funds to begin conversion immediately of one, but we’ll have to wait for our next allotment from the Council before converting the others.”

“One will do for now,” the Commander nodded. “I’ll see if we can get additional funding from Israel and Germany in advance.”

“Commander,” Bradford swallowed. “Jackson has finished some conversion. We know who these soldiers are.” He began tapping on the holotable.

“Who?” The Commander demanded, more puzzled than curious. That was remarkably fast. “Actually, _how_?”

The holotable lit up, focusing on three holographic soldiers, the woman leader flanked by two subordinates. “Look at their shoulder capes,” Bradford suggested. “Is that what it looks like?” The Commander was skeptical when he saw the symbol, but after seeing it on both other capes, it was pretty obvious.

“EXALT,” he spat. His face like stone, he glanced over to Zhang. “I don’t suppose you happened upon anything saying EXALT has an _army_ at their command?” He wasn’t quite able to keep all of the sarcasm out of that question.

Zhang shook his head. “No, Commander. I’m still conducting operations against them, but at the moment we still know very little.”

The Commander looked down, trying to let the frustration bubbling inside get to him. Zhang wasn’t at fault for this, not really. He’d known they had _some_ kind of special forces or military power, but he wasn’t _quite_ expecting it at _this_ level. Well, at least this made a _lot_ more sense than some country attacking in retaliation against him.

“Well, EXALT has just become a much larger priority,” the Commander stated, keeping his voice neutral. “Zhang, Bradford. I want both of you working together against EXALT. Zhang, I want _all_ updates on your current operations against them. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander!” They nodded in unison.

“Good,” the Commander returned his attention to the holotable. “Now, we need to figure out how they knew to expect us, and why they’re wielding alien weaponry.”

“You know,” Van Doorn suggested grimly. “Your theory about them allying with the aliens doesn’t seem so far off now. We’re predictable. The aliens _know_ we show up whenever they abduct a town, so it would be easy to tell EXALT where we were heading.”

“It would also explain how EXALT knew we were using laser tech and developed equipment to negate it,” the Commander added as he remembered the fight. “And I suppose the aliens would have just given them a few plasma rifles.”

“Why would EXALT work with the aliens?” Vahlen wondered, clutching her tablet as she frowned at the holograms. “Surely they don’t think they’re are here to help them?”

“I doubt it,” the Commander stated coldly. “They probably think they can use the aliens; bleed them of technology to further their agenda. The only issue is that it relies on the aliens being complete idiots and _not_ anticipating a betrayal of some kind. And since the aliens are _not_ stupid, it means they’re also using EXALT. A negative result for us all around.”

“Unless they would actually prefer alien rule?” Bradford suggested. “Fringe groups _do_ have some odd values and wants.”

“We’re not dealing with a fringe group or an internet group of alien sympathizers,” Zhang disagreed harshly. “This is a professional organization that is potentially centuries old. No, they think that they’re the special ones that can somehow manipulate the aliens.”

“Arrogance,” the Commander mused. “Perhaps we can use that against them.”

“We need to find them first,” Bradford reminded them. “Until then, we need to issue something on EXALT to the soldiers. Even if you don’t want to release-“

“No,” the Commander raised a hand. “Release everything. They need to know what we know. EXALT relies on secrets and anonymity. Remove that and they, and we, will have a better chance of beating them.”

“There is another possibility to consider,” Zhang interrupted slowly. “They have a mole; within us, the Council or United Nations. They might be allied with the aliens, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re getting their information from them.”

“Is this a suggestion, or do you have something?” The Commander demanded.

“I have nothing,” Zhang reassured him. “But I think we should consider the possibility,” he hesitated. “If you want, I can begin some…investigations.”

The Commander didn’t reply for a minute. “I’ll speak to you about that later, Zhang. That’s a discussion for another time.” He glanced over at the General. “Van Doorn, see if NATO has anything on EXALT. Maybe get Herman to speak to-“ he paused. “Actually, no. I’ll speak to him myself.”

He looked at them. “That’s it. Dismissed.” He gave his salute and all of them returned it. All of them walked out of the room except Vahlen who stayed by his side. Once the door had hissed closed, he turned around and leaned on the holotable. Vahlen also turned to him, now slightly taller than him from his leaning.

“You alright?” She asked, moving to lean on the table beside him.

He pursed his lips. “I got complacent,” he finally said. “Overconfident, I guess. I assumed what was going to happen and as a result, people died. I’ll be fine, but I’m concerned with my performance now.”

“You don’t need to be,” Vahlen said, looking at him. “It won’t work again. No tactic works on you twice.”

“But eventually, it’ll happen with something else,” the Commander stated sadly. “And I don’t know what that is. I’ve been lucky it’s only been soldiers I’ve lost and not worse. I’m not sure what I can do to prevent that. Sure, I’ll be fine for a while, extra vigilant and everything, but then I’ll get complacent again, intentionally or not.”

“You’re not infallible,” Vahlen reminded him. “And this isn’t all your fault either. If I’m not mistaken, Van Doorn and Bradford were also in the room, were they not?”

“They were,” he admitted. “But I’m the one who makes the calls.” He pushed himself up and walked over by the screens. “I’m not effective here,” he admitted quietly. “I can make decisions about our deployments, nations to influence and court, our use of resources…but making judgment calls through screens is impossible. I’m not _there_ and that’s what’s bothering me.”

“Don’t let one mission negate all your previous ones,” Vahlen told him sternly, walking behind him. “You’ve done exceptional for the most part.”

The Commander snorted. “Moira, you overestimate my level of involvement. I usually leave major decisions to the soldiers who are actually _there_. They have a much better grasp on the situation than I ever could just watching. The most I can really provide is information on the terrain or if more aliens are coming. Marginal stuff, really.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Vahlen asked tentatively, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Depends,” he shrugged. “For me, yes. I keep feeling that I’m contributing less for the actual soldiers risking their lives,” he raised a hand to cut off her inevitable reply. “Yes, yes, I know that’s rationally not true. But it feels that way sometimes. I make decisions, yes, but I’m not as good making connections and logistics as Bradford and not nearly as good a diplomat as Van Doorn. I can read people and exploit their weaknesses, but I feel many of the decisions I make could be done by others.”

“Absolutely not.” Vahlen stated firmly, shaking her head. “You give yourself far too little credit. What sets you apart is that you aren’t afraid of doing whatever it takes to defend us. You really think someone else would have determined that the Hades Contingency was necessary? Do you think they would have had the courage to stand up to the Council? The MEC project? My own experiments? Do you really think things would be the same if you weren’t in charge?”

“Probably not,” the Commander admitted. “I’m just saying what it feels like right now.” He shook his head. “You’ve not exactly caught me in a good frame of mind. I’ll probably be past it in a few hours.”

“So the important question,” Vahlen walked in front of him and looked him in the eye. “What are you going to do?”

That question was one he’d wondered and now, oddly enough, he actually did. “When Zhang locates where EXALT is hiding, I’m going to take a squad and wipe them out,” he stated coldly. “There will be retribution for today, and I will personally ensure it is carried out.”

Vahlen gave one firm nod. “Do what you need to.”

He gave a wry smile. “Really? You aren’t worried I’m going to die or something?”

Vahlen sighed and took his hands in her own. “Of course I am,” she admitted softly. “But I also know why you’re doing it and trust that you’re going to come back.”

“Huh,” the Commander said. “And here I was ready to defend myself.”

The corners of her lips curled up. “You have enough to worry about without me being overprotective.”

“Interesting word choice,” he commented wryly.

She shrugged. “What else do you call it when you worry about someone unnecessarily?”

“Fair point,” he conceded and they stood there for a minute. He coughed. “Thanks, Moira. It’s…relieving to have you to talk to.”

Vahlen smiled and leaned up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Looking very self-satisfied, she stepped back. “Anytime, Commander. I’ll let you get back to work now.” She walked past him, leaving him standing there. The door hissed closed and he realized he probably should move.

Shaking his head, he turned around. Not the right time to think about _that_. He had work to do now. Best get to it.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Something must have happened, judging from the increased pace and frantic movements of some of the staff as they rushed past him. Herman frowned as two techs ran beside him without so much as a nodded greeting. That, combined with the fact that the Commander had asked to see him meant something was going on.

He eventually reached the Commander’s office and hands clasped behind his back, walked up to the door which opened noiselessly. The Commander was leaning against the wall, a tablet in his head. Hearing him come in, he pushed himself off the wall and walked over.

He looked worn out; not tired, but run down at the very least. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he didn’t get much sleep, but his eyes seemed unusually vibrant. Almost angry. He didn’t sound tired though. “Herman, thanks for coming.”

Herman inclined his head in greeting. “Just as well, I was going to come see you soon anyway.”

“Hmm,” the Commander shrugged and continued. “We’ll get to whatever you want to talk about. But I’d like to ask some questions.”

Herman gave a light grin. “Is this an interrogation?”

“No, no,” the Commander denied, shaking his head. “Just something you might be able to help with.”

Alright, if he couldn’t tell he was joking, it must be serious. Adopting the same attitude, he answered. “Go ahead, Commander.”

 “We recently sent out a team to investigate an abduction zone in Mexico,” the Commander told him, handing him a tablet. “It turned out to be a trap set by an organization called EXALT. We were forced to retreat.”

Herman looked at the tablet which had pictures of the enemy soldiers. Well, _this_ was interesting. “I haven’t seen that in a long time,” he muttered as he flipped through.

“What?” The Commander demanded, eyebrows furrowing. “You’ve seen them before?”

Herman looked up. “Not the armor or equipment, no. But those bandannas, I was involved in an African operation once and we encountered some mercenaries that also wore them. Theirs were green, not orange, but it’s an interesting coincidence.”

“This mercenary group,” the Commander demanded bluntly. “Do you know anything about them?”

“We just assumed they were mercenaries,” Herman clarified. “All of them were killed when we took a village they were holding. They didn’t have any identifying markings and their clothing was more practical for desert and jungle work,” he motioned at the tablet. “Nothing like these soldiers.”

“Have you heard of EXALT?” the Commander asked, looking at him intently.

Herman put the tablet down. “I’ve _heard_ of it, certainly. But from my understanding, most of the intelligence community views it as a myth. Sorry, I don’t know anything about it, real or otherwise.”

“Of course they do,” the Commander muttered under his breath. “Well, we have proof EXALT does exist and is working against us.”

“Who are they affiliated with?” Herman asked. “Actually,” he raised a hand. “How much do you have?”

“We initially thought they were working on their own,” the Commander explained, flicking through his own tablet. “They were one of the parties involved in the destabilization of Germany. We know now that they’re very well organized, well equipped and exhibit an as-of now unknown degree of influence over various countries.”

Herman frowned. These sort of conspiracy theories weren’t exactly new. But most of time they were dismissed by most rational people. Which was a large reason why EXALT was considered a myth, the idea that a small group was secretly manipulating world events was incredibly hard to believe.

And yet, the Commander seemed convinced that they existed and were responsible for attacks on them. “How do you know for certain?” Herman asked, crossing his arms. “Forgive me for being skeptical, but this is a borderline conspiracy theory.”

“We captured an EXALT operative who gave us the name and another who was receiving funding from them to destabilize Germany,” the Commander explained. “We also acquired their symbol from another source, a symbol that is on the capes of the soldiers who ambushed us.”

He handed the tablet to him which showed what he assumed was the EXALT symbol. “But isn’t it a leap to assume that these people are influencing governments and such? That’s much different from a rogue intelligence agency.”

The Commander sighed. “Perhaps, but it’s the next logical step. We extracted information about shell companies controlled by EXALT. Once we compromised Germany for them, all of them were shut down in some form or another. We’ve been tracking where they’re moving to and I’ve begun operations against them that way.”

Herman put down his tablet. “Where?”

The Commander hesitated, clearly debating what to tell him. “A Russian farming company.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ve spoken with the President about the operation in his country?” Herman asked wearily.

“Of course not,” the Commander shook his head. “I don’t know how far their influence goes and will not risk compromising the operation just to be nice. I doubt they’ll even know we were there.”

Herman sighed, then frowned as a new realization struck him. “How exactly are you conducting espionage operations without an intelligence force? Unless…”

“Don’t get too excited,” the Commander grunted. “I have a few soldiers who have intelligence backgrounds. A few Mossad and Kidon agents. I felt this was worth investigating, but it’s nowhere near a full time operation,” he smirked. “How would I have time to run it? And unfortunately, no one else has intelligence experience besides me.”

“Perhaps that should change,” Herman wondered. “I’m not exactly sure I completely believe that EXALT is a world-altering organization, but since they are clearly moving against XCOM, it might be prudent to have some sort of dedicated covert operations group.”

The Commander looked surprised at that. “Believe me, I agree. But the issue is that the Council would never allow it. You should have seen the reaction to when I helped identify the causes of the instability in Germany. It was, and I quote, “Outside my jurisdiction.””

Herman eyed him. “For some reason, I doubt that words alone would stop you.”

“I have to pick my fights with the Council,” he defended. “A good portion already distrust me, and would never give me the authority to spy on them.”

Herman leaned against the wall. “Would you?”

The Commander snorted. “If I felt they posed a threat to XCOM, absolutely.”

“Reasonable,” Herman conceded. “Listen, perhaps I could help with this. I might be able to convince the Council of the necessity of this, especially with this EXALT organization entering the mix.”

“Really,” the Commander eyed him with interest. “Oddly considerate. But if you can get them to approve of an Intelligence program, under _my_ control, mind you, then please do.” He shook his head. “And if it helps, tell them we suspect that EXALT is currently allied with the aliens.”

Herman blinked. “What?”

“It’s not confirmed,” the Commander warned, raising a hand. “But one of them was wielding a plasma rifle and they had an uncanny knowledge of our equipment, weaponry and tactics. Stuff they couldn’t know about without inside information,” he paused. “Anyway, the reason I brought you up in the first place was to see if you could ask the Council for anything on EXALT. Anything you can get will be useful.”

Herman nodded. “I’ll do my best.” With that he turned around and made to leave.

“Wait.” Herman turned back around to see the Commander eyeing him. “You said you wanted to discuss something with me?”

Oh, right. “Yes,” he answered with a nod. “But it’s not quite as urgent compared to this.”

“Unlikely,” the Commander agreed, waving his hand indicating him to continue. “But I would like to hear it all the same.”

Alright, here he went. Taking a deep breath, he walked back by the Commander. “It regards the virus you have Vahlen working on for the sectoids.”

“Ah, she spoke to you about that?” He asked, not sounding at all concerned. “I’m rather impressed she was able to do it.”

Impressed. Yes, that was one word that could be used. _Disturbed_ was what he personally felt, but that wasn’t why he was here. “Yes, I do have some concerns about it.”

Even if he didn’t, he would almost hear the Commander’s sigh in his voice. “And they are?”

Herman paused dramatically. “It’s not efficient enough.”

The Commander cocked his head, that answer he’d clearly not expected. “Explain?”

Herman placed his hands behind his back. “With the way the virus is designed now, it will take weeks before it even takes effect. That’s understandable and a clever way to spread the virus unnoticed. However, drawing out the death of the sectoids provides no tactical advantage whatsoever.”

He cleared his throat. “If anything, it increases the chance that a cure will be able to be discovered and thus render the whole virus useless. Whereas if the virus killed within a few days, it would be almost impossible for the aliens to develop a cure or antidote.”

The Commander was silent for a few minutes, a small smile on his face. “Clever,” he commented, though Herman was pretty sure it wasn’t in response to his actual argument. “But contrary to what you say, there _is_ a tactical advantage to the horrific means of execution. Fear.” The Commander’s eyes bored into his unsettlingly. “The effect is demoralizing and breeds terror within the species and the other alien races. Because if we can wipe out one species, what’s to stop them from being next? Aside from that, I feel it a fitting end to a species looking to destroy us.”

“Yes,” Herman coughed. “But if a cure-“

“I’m not concerned about that possibility,” the Commander interrupted. “Vahlen has assured me that it is incurable and because of how the virus works, any kind of genetic modification or tampering with the virus will result in the death of the subject. Simply put, it’s _impossible_ to cure in the traditional sense. The only “antidote” is to change the genome of the sectoid, which would prevent the virus from taking hold at all. Which would only be able to be done on future clones of sectoids.”

Well, he should have known the Commander, and Vahlen, would have considered that possibility. They’d have been foolish not to. Well, he’d at least tried. “That being said,” the Commander interrupted his thoughts. “You do raise a good point. The aliens will catch on eventually and it will become more prudent to kill as many as possible. So how about a compromise; we deploy the virus as-is and after the initial wave takes ahold, we switch to a more… _efficient_ version that works as you said.” He gave a grim smile. “We accomplish our goals psychologically, and then kill as many as possible.”

Well…it wasn’t _quite_ what he wanted. But more than he expected, he’d actually not expected the Commander to back down at all. “That seems…prudent…Commander.”

“I’m glad you think so,” the Commander nodded. “You’re dismissed now.”

He nodded and left the room. Alright, he had a lot to discuss with the Council. He supposed that was as close as he was going to get to changing the Commander’s mind, but that at least showed he was willing to compromise, provided he worded everything right. He’d suspected that appealing to the Commander’s sense of morality probably _wouldn’t_ work. Especially since he wasn’t convinced he had much to begin with. So what _would_ work? Practicality and efficiency, that seemed to be arguments he respected. Arguments backed up by solid reasoning.

He sincerely hoped he would be able to convince the Council to authorize some sort of Intelligence branch, not just because it would make him more trustworthy in the Commander’s eyes, but because that wasn’t something that couldn’t be done part time. Mistakes got made that way, mistakes that killed people and the Commander had enough stress without worrying about other operations.

But he was right that the Council would _not_ want him to have complete autonomy and he was certain that the Commander would put up a fight if they insisted on _more_ oversight. And EXALT, hopefully they had something on that.

Hmm, what _was_ the op in Africa? It might be a good idea to request that, even if it was just a coincidence. Never hurt to check.  

***

_Isolated Location, Russia_

“Come on,” Ruth muttered as she and Abby laid upon the sparse grass as they observed the factory. “Show us something.”

They’d arrived in Russia a couple days ago and spent most of that time getting into position before the actual infiltration. As Abby was finding out, that involved a lot of sitting around and doing nothing. At least the weather was pleasant, not to hot or cold. But quite honestly, she was getting bored.

The factory itself was in an oddly isolated location. Deep in the Russian wilderness. Surrounded by forests and hills, it was very scenic and beautiful. The factory rested on a large field of grass while they watched from one of the forested hills a mile or so back.

“Finally,” Ruth muttered while she gazed through the binoculars. “Abby, make note that the guard changes every four hours. I think we have enough to back that up.”

“Got it,” Abby confirmed and made that note on her pad. “Anything else?”

“We’ll probably have ten to fifteen minutes before they’re all in position,” Ruth added. “But hopefully, we won’t need to rely on that.”

Hopefully. This place was much larger than she’d initially assumed. It was slightly larger than some factories she’d seen in America, and much better guarded too. It did make sense, especially if they _were_ connected to EXALT in some way. There were only two entrances, at the front and back. Otherwise, the building was surrounded by an electrified chain fence. To make matters worse, it was frequently patrolled by armed guards, a lot of them.

They’d counted at least fifteen different ones just on the outside, and an unknown number which resided in the factory itself. “A lot of security for a company,” Abby commented as she watched a pair of guards stop a truck that was entering through the front checkpoint. “Even if is a large one.”

“No way could they afford this kind of security with only one or two factories,” Ruth agreed. “But, well, not like we expected anything else.”

“How soon do you think we’ll move in?” Abby asked as she leaned back against a tree. “He’s going to be coming back soon.”

“Um-hmm,” Ruth nodded absentmindedly. “Trust me, I’m well aware of that. But we only need to infiltrate the facility once, plant the transponder, and leave. With any luck, it’ll siphon information off their computers to Akello for a few days until they figure it out. In the meantime, perhaps some of those black trucks will show up.”

“Let’s hope,” Abby sighed. “I think we’d actually learn more if we focused on the trucks. They’re clearly going somewhere.”

“Really, and here I thought they were just vanishing into space,” Ruth commented dryly. “But I get it. Which is why I’ll shoot the tracker on the trucks the next time they come,” she backed away. “We’ve got enough for now. Let’s head back.”

Abby grabbed her pack and followed Ruth through the woods to the makeshift campsite a few miles away. Kalonymous was nowhere to be seen when they returned, but Akello was sitting by the portable antenna typing on her laptop.

She looked up as they approached. “Learn anything?”

“Shift changes,” Ruth answered, tossing her pack down and moving over to the food pack. “It turned out to be exactly like I said, we just confirmed it.”

“Well, good for you,” Akello answered, shrugging and returned to her laptop. “Meanwhile, I’ve been poking around their cyber defenses.”

“And?” Ruth demanded, looking at her with interest as she took a drink from a water bottle.

“Their security is good,” Akello answered, a touch of admiration in her tone. “Like, _really_ good. Better than it has any right to be.”

“You can’t get in?” Abby asked, going over to sit by her.

“Oh, I will eventually,” she reassured them, waving her hand dismissively. “But it’ll take some creativity.”

“Where is Kalonymous?” Ruth asked, looking around the small camp. Abby raised her head. Ruth was right, he _should_ have come out.

“Don’t worry about him,” Akello commented as she typed. “He went into the woods about an hour ago. ‘Practicing,” he said.” Ruth relaxed a bit at that so Abby assumed she knew what that meant.

But _she_ didn’t. “And what does that mean?” She asked Ruth.

“That means he’s almost ready for the op,” Ruth explained as she sat on the ground opposite them. “He does that. Gets into character, practices the voice, mannerisms and patterns of the person he’s imitating. He’s the best disguise artist I know for a reason.”

“A reputation I work to uphold,” a distinctly Russian voice said, startling her. She could swear that Madvay had somehow followed them. Turning around, she saw a disturbing look-alike. His hair was styled exactly the same and he’d somehow turned his skin a lighter color that matched Madvay’s exactly. The eyes were also the same and the voice was nearly perfect.

The only issue was that his face wasn’t really close to what Madvay’s actually was. But from a distance…and in combination with the voice…he could easily be mistaken for him. “That’s really creepy,” she said, not quite sure what else to say. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he assured her, keeping the same voice. It was eerie hearing him act like normal with that voice and look. “I take that as a compliment.”

“I guess we’ll move in tomorrow,” Ruth said. “We have everything we need. The IDs, disguise and transponder. So you and Abby will go in, set it, and get out.”

“So what are you going to do if someone recognizes you?” Abby asked. “Or rather, recognizes it’s _not_ you?”

“Got you covered,” Akello called out. “I made a separate ID with some fake name that he can show if he wants to. A dummy card, but it’ll fool most people provided it’s accompanied by a good performance.”

“Which I can provide,” Kalonymous answered with a deferential nod.

“I suggest we get some rest,” Ruth said, standing up. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Now-“

“Woah,” Akello exclaimed suddenly.

Ruth’s head snapped over. “What?”

“Someone else is also trying to get in,” she explained. “Like, get past the security as well.”

“Who?” Ruth demanded, striding over.

“No idea,” Akello admitted. “Though if they’re trying to get in, I’m guessing they aren’t EXALT.”

“Can they find us?” Abby asked, gesturing at the screen.

“Nope,” Akello reassured them. “Should they somehow manage to trace where this computer is, they’ll find it somewhere in the United States. And if they break that, it’ll be somewhere in Australia-“

“Right we get it,” Kalonymous interrupted. “You used a lot of proxies. A _no_ would have been fine.”

“Hmm,” Ruth murmured. “Could you…coordinate with this person to break into the system?”

“Yes…” Akello answered slowly. “But I would have to actually be speaking to them for anything to really be effective.”

“So can you?” Abby asked.

“I can open a chat log,” Akello said. “You want me to?”

“If you’re sure they won’t be able to figure out who you are,” Ruth answered. “Or let me put it this way: could you find the identity of this person?”

“After a few days, perhaps,” Akello answered, frowning at the screen. “Though it would require-“

“Good enough,” Ruth cut her off abruptly. “Open communications with them.”

“Understood,” Akello nodded, her lips curling into a grin. “Let’s see what they want.”  

***

“I count fifteen,” Cerian informed as he watched the factory through the scope of his sniper rifle. “Probably more inside.”

“Pretty heavy security,” Ren noted as he watched through the scope of his rifle as well. “But is that really unusual for a large company? Especially in Russia?”

  “Depends,” Cerian answered, frowning as he watched. “In this case, I find it unusual, but it’s not really raising any red flags for me.”

“Then I guess the question is why XCOM is interested in it,” Ren shrugged.

That question was definitely one he was no closer to solving. They’d done thorough research on the company before arriving and…nothing appeared out of the ordinary. There hadn’t been any legal issues facing the company and they were one of the more known distributors in the Russian farming industry.

By all rights, XCOM shouldn’t be interested in this. There was no one employed who had any connection to the government or any kind of foreign entity. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with the aliens either, which made this whole situation bizarre.

He was convinced he was missing an important piece. Patrick had been just as confused as him when he’d given the update. He’d provided them with everything they had, or course, but he didn’t know why any more than Cerian did.

One theory was that XCOM had somehow discovered some kind of criminal activity within the company, which might explain the security and how they were doing so well financially. But there were some glaring problems with that, namely that again, there was no reason _why_ XCOM would even care. And if it was, why would they not just tell the Russians?

“When do you think they’ll make their move?” Ren asked, sounding bored.

“I’d think they’d want to do it sooner than later,” Cerian answered adjusting his scope. “But when they do, we’ll know it.”

“Hopefully Mary can get into their network,” Ren sighed. “Then we might figure something concrete out. Probably more than just watching for them here for hours.”

“Break time,” Darril interrupted as he snuck up behind them. Cerian looked up at him and Olivia standing behind them. Rising to his knees he handed the rifle to Darril.

“No change since the last time,” he updated as Ren gave his rifle to Olivia. “Nothing suspicious from XCOM either.”

“So, probably another six hours of nothing?” Olivia commented ruefully as she laid on the ground and took her position. “Well, not much we can do.”

“Yep,” Cerian sighed. “We’ll see you shortly.” He and Ren set off back to their own makeshift camp. It only took them a half hour to hike there and they didn’t get much of a greeting when they did. Mary was typing on her laptop as she leaned against a tree, only stopping to wave at them as they sat down on bench.

“Anything happen here?” Cerian asked rhetorically, not really expecting a response.

“Not really,” Mary shrugged and looked back at her screen. “This company sure does have good security though. I haven’t been able to get in yet.”

“Why is that so unusual?” Ren asked as he took a drink of water. “Aren’t these large corporations _supposed_ to protect against people like you?”

“Well, yeah. In theory,” Mary explained. “But most of the time they don’t exactly follow through on promises.”

“That still isn’t so strange,” Cerian added as he opened a small bag of chips. “Shouldn’t they be commended for taking cyber security seriously for once?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mary sighed in exasperation. “But it had to be when we actually _need_ to get in-hold on.”

Cerian paused. “What is it?”

“Well, well,” Mary looked surprised and began renewed typing. “I think I’ve found our XCOM hacker. Looks like they’re trying to get inside as well.”

Cerian put down the bag and walked over and kneeled down behind her shoulder. The screen was filled with lines of code, looked like some form of C++, though he couldn’t be sure. It had been a while since he’d refreshed his knowledge on programming. “How are they doing?”

“Apparently as good as I am,” Mary answered distractedly. “The issue isn’t that I _can’t_ get in, it’s just that it’ll take a long time. We have time, but I’m guessing XCOM doesn’t.”

“If they create a breach, would we be able to go in as well?” Cerian questioned looking at her.

Mary pursed her lips and tapped her chin. “Unlikely…” she finally said. “Unless I knew exactly what they did to break in and could replicate it. For some reason, I’m not sure they’d share it with me.”

“Would you be able to detect when they got in?” Cerian wondered, thinking. If they could…it might be a way for them to predict when XCOM would strike.

“No,” Mary shook her head. “I’ll be able to tell if they go offline or not, but not if they actually broke into the system. If they get in, the signal probably won’t be any-“

A window on the screen popped up:

 _cout (User 1)_ <<  _Who is this?_

_cin >> __

The underscore flashed, apparently to allow her to respond. Well then. An interesting turn of events. Mary looked up at him. “What should I say?”

“This our XCOM hacker?” Cerian clarified, just to make sure.

“Positive,” Mary nodded. “No one else is in the system.”

“I won’t dictate,” Cerian told her. “Just let me see before you send it.”

Mary nodded and returned to typing.

_cout (User 2) << An interested party._

They waited a few seconds until a response popped up.

_cout (User 1) << You’ll have to be more specific._

Mary sighed and responded.

_cout (User 2) << I don’t, actually. But I’m a freelancer if you must know._

_cout (User 1) << Touchy, but have it your way. Why are you interested?_

Mary paused for a second.

_cout (User 2) << I could ask you that same question. What do you want?_

_cout (User 1) << Answers._

Well, that did make some sense. Though it was still too vague to really read into it that much. Provided this person was even telling the truth. A new message popped up.

_cout (User 1) << And you?_

Mary paused, looked into the air as she contemplated, then looked down and typed a response. Once it was typed, she looked up a Cerian for approval, He gave a nod.

_cout (User 2) << Someone I know went missing. I’ve tracked the culprits here._

There was a pause of a few seconds before a response popped up.

_cout (User 1) << Who are they?_

_cout (User 2) << How do I know you’re not with them?_

_cout (User 1) << You don’t, but we might share a common enemy._

“You think asking who is too blunt?” Mary asked, looking up at him.

Cerian rubbed his forehead. “No, not in this case.” Mary nodded and returned to typing.

_cout (User 2) << And who is that?_

_cout (User 1) << EXALT_

Cerian’s eyes widened. Now that was _not_ what he was expecting. Mary seemed just as confused. “The hell is EXALT?”

“A myth,” Cerian answered as he tried to figure out if it could be interpreted differently. “Or at least that’s what everyone believes.”

“Well, it seems real, whatever it is,” Mary shrugged. “You think that’s why they’re here?”

“It’s better than what we had before,” Cerian admitted. “But it makes no sense. EXALT was a conspiracy debunked decades ago. But I don’t know why XCOM would be interested in it now.”

“Maybe it’s something different?” Mary suggested. “I should reply before they get suspicious.”

“Do it,” he nodded. Mary was probably right, it was likely it was some other group that had taken the name for some reason. But then that still didn’t answer the question of _why_ XCOM was interested in them. They must have acted against them somehow to warrant this kind of reaction. Or maybe it was an alien program?

He glanced back at the screen where Mary typed her response.

_cout (User 2) << You know them?_

_cout (User 1) << You could say I’ve had issues with them._

_cout (User 1) << Both of us want something from them. For now, we have the same goals. I suggest we align for the moment, get what we need and leave._

_cout (User 2) << How do I know I can trust you?_

_cout (User 1) << You can’t. But if it makes you feel better I’ve already tried to locate you and failed. Your identity will remain safe._

“Cheeky,” Mary muttered. “Should I do it? This might be our only opportunity to get into the system.”

“Can you ensure nothing will give us away?” Cerian asked.

“Yes,” Mary nodded. “I’ll be extra careful.”

“Do it,” Cerian ordered, standing up. Mary nodded and began typing. Cerian left her to her work and walked over and saw by his tent. EXALT. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was _actually_ the organization of myth, but if XCOM had decided they posed enough of a problem to warrant entire operations devoted against them, then they must be disruptive on some level.

So the next logical step was to find all known organizations that had something to do with the word EXALT. Patrick was going to _love_ the next update. Well, XCOM was probably going to move on the company very soon now, so they had to be ready to watch and see what they were doing.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. Best get some sleep while he could.

***

“You think they’ll notice they’ve never seen this vehicle before?” Abby asked as they drove up to the factory. The car they were driving was the only one that they’d been able to get and had taken them here in the first place. It wasn’t the prettiest thing and fairly old, but it served well.

“You vastly overestimate the memory of the average security guard,” Kalonymous chuckled without looking over at her. At least he was using his normal voice for now. “They only care if your ID passes inspection.”

“Let’s hope Akello made sure everything works,” Abby muttered. After making contact with the mysterious hacker, they’d pooled their skills and had been able to penetrate the company network. Akello had used it to modify the personnel files to make sure they were in the system if questioned.

She hadn’t been able to get much more than that, since going into the more encrypted files would undoubtedly tip them off that something was happening. But it had definitely made the infiltration easier.

“Akello is one of the best,” Kalonymous assured her. “I wouldn’t worry.”

“Moment of truth,” Abby muttered as they pulled up to the checkpoint and she got out her forged ID. Glancing down to ensure that the pack containing the transponder was tucked underneath her legs. Satisfied that it was, she looked over as Kalonymous lowered the window. One of the guards approached them.

“идентификация.” He stated, extending a hand.

Kalonymous simply handed the ID badges over which he took and walked back to his station. A minute later he returned and handed them back with a nod. Stepping back, he waved them through as the gate opened.

“That went well,” Abby commented, relieved, as they drove to the parking area.

“Don’t get excited yet,” Kalonymous cautioned as he parked and then unbuckled. “Wait till we’re inside.” They got out and approached through the employee entrance. The cards allowed them entry without incident and once they were inside they were greeted with a series of hallways with stark white lights and walls. Unpainted concrete floors extended as far as the hallways, though did seem to stop at the various exits.

“Floor plan should have us take a left,” Abby recalled. “We did enter from the southeast employee entrance, right?”

“That we did,” Kalonymous looked over at her, respect in his eyes. “I’m surprised you remembered so exactly.”

She snorted. “I memorized every part of the human body. A building is trivial when compared to that.”

“Very true,” he started walking down the hallway and nodded in greeting as they passed some workers who barely nodded as they went past. They finally arrived at an elevator and pressed it to go up.

From the schematics, they were not going to be going into the main production area of the factory, just a very short, direct path to the security room. Once they took the elevator to the second floor, it would be several lefts and they’d have to use Kalonymous’ security pass to go further.

In the event that the pass did not work, they’d try to enter manually and find some way to break in. Worst case scenario, they have to risk contacting Akello and having her force the doors to open. Which was extremely risky with all the security around and the greater chance that someone would intercept their conversation. She wouldn’t put it past EXALT to have listening devices planted or have some way of intercepting signals.

They rode the elevator without incident and soon arrived at the hallways leading them to the entrance. It seemed fine until they realized there was a guard in front of the door. Both of the paused just before the hallway turned.

“Damn it,” Kalonymous muttered under his breath. “This might be difficult.”

“You think he’ll let us pass?” Abby asked, just as quietly.

“Perhaps me,” Kalonymous answered distractedly. “If you speak he’ll know you’re not a native. Here, hand me the pack in case I can’t get you in.”

She handed it over. “Worst case?”

Kalonymous shrugged. “We have to kill him.”

On that cheery note, they rounded the corner and approached the guard. He wasn’t heavily armed, just bearing a pistol strapped to his waist and wore an oddly formal suit. There were some odd attachments to his wrists and he had an odd looking eyepiece that extended over his left eye. The lens was blue and it flickered as they approached. Some kind of identification software? Did such a thing exist?

His hands were clasped behind his back, but he raised one in a clear signal to stop once they were close. “держитесь пожалуйста,” he greeted in a surprisingly calm voice. Kalonymous stopped and Abby followed suit. He appraised them, first looking intently at Kalonymous and then at Abby.

After an uncomfortable timespan, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “добро пожаловать. идентификация пожалуйста.” He extended his hand and Kalonymous handed him their IDs. He turned his right arm up and slid the first card into a thin card reader into it. A few seconds later it flashed green and he pulled out and put the other one in with the same result.

With a nod, he gave the cards back to Kalonymous. “вы очищены, чтобы войти. не займет слишком много времени.”

Kalonymous nodded towards him. “мы будем сделано в ближайшее время.”

The guard turned to the door and slid his own card into a slot by the door. Abby could hear the click as it unlocked and he opened it and motioned them inside. Once they entered, Abby took a quick look around. The security room was surprisingly robust, it more closely resembled something that she’d see in XCOM Intelligence instead of a farming company.

All the equipment looked at the very least up to date. There were screens displaying various areas of the factory. The security personnel sat at chairs, making notes and performing other unseen tasks on their own computers. All of them were so focused on their work, they didn’t even notice the two of them entering.

Abby slid the pack off her back and looked around. All that was really required was that it needed to be plugged into a power source. Akello had said it would go faster if it could also be plugged into one of the computers, but that wasn’t a requirement. Still, they wouldn’t have an opportunity like this for a long time.

She gave a wordless nod toward Kalonymous towards a computer at the far end. If Kalonymous could distract him for long enough, she’d be able to set up the transponder and connect it to the computer as well with a small chance of being noticed by anyone else.

Kalonymous seemed to get it and nodded, then began walking over to the security analyst. She hung out in the back, pretending to fiddle with one of the panels. She could hear him chatting in Russian, then there was the sound of a chair moving backward. Footsteps behind her, she waited until she felt the light gust of air as they passed her.

She waited a few seconds then walked over to the computer as casually as she could. Kneeling on the ground, she pulled out the transponder. No larger than a shoebox, it fit snugly over the computer, a very natural fit and one that wouldn’t look out of place at all. She’d practiced this dozens of times last night and it paid off. She made almost no noise as she fitted it in place and began attaching the cords.

One. Two and…three. Now for the power. With a spark, the transponder flashed green from a small LED light. Online. She smiled to herself and rose to her feet and stepped back. No one had noticed and she casually made her way back to the panel. Perfect timing as well, since Kalonymous was walking back, having an intense conversation that she couldn’t even begin to follow.

Kalonymous smiled and said what she assumed was goodbye and gave a small wave. The man responded similarly and went back to his place. “Online,” she muttered, not looking at him. He simply smiled.

Once the man had returned to fully focusing on his job, they left. They passed the guard without incident and only until they were around the corner did Abby breathe a sigh of relief. They’d done the hard part, all they had to do now was get out.

But she didn’t think they had anything to worry about now.

***

“I guess we know why they were interested in that guy,” Olivia commented as they walked back. “At least, I’m assuming they used his ID to get inside.”

“And out,” Cerian added as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Very smoothly, I might add.”

“Hopefully Mary is tracking them now,” Olivia said hopefully as she cast a wistful glance up. When Cerian had made the shot containing the tracking chip, she’d been skeptical it could have been done. The look on her face had been worth it. “Though what are we going to do with this? I doubt they’ll be there for much longer.”

“It’ll serve perfectly fine for the moment,” Cerian reassured her. “I want to at least try and learn what XCOM is doing here before I update Patrick. Until then, knowing their location is enough.”

“And what happens if they find the tracker?” Olivia asked curiously, looking over. “They aren’t exactly amateurs.”

“Which is why I invest in the best gear possible,” Cerian reminded her. “Trust me, if they find that tracker I’m getting a refund. That thing was insanely expensive and my shot placed it somewhere they won’t look.”

Olivia shrugged. “If you say so, boss. You think Mary found anything?”

“Hopefully.” Mary had been working on accessing some of the more encrypted files when they’d left. She’d apparently had to be careful so as “not to arouse suspicion” whatever that meant. Hopefully it meant that she had something.

As they walked in silence for a few minutes, Cerian kept noticing Olivia looking at him occasionally. She finally broke the silence. “You’ve done this a lot before, haven’t you?”

Ah, so it was going to be _this_ talk. “I did. For many years in fact.”

“So…” she paused. “What did you do? Just reconnaissance?”

“Occasionally,” he answered honestly. “But I was used mostly for my skills as an assassin.”

She turned her head sharply. “Really…” she answered cautiously, clearly not sure how to respond. “For the UN?”

“Does that surprise you?” He asked humorlessly, even though his lips were curled into a smile. “That the UN could employ people in _such_ a despicable position?”

“I didn’t mean-“ She began.

“No, it’s fine,” Cerian cut her off. “Trust me. I wasn’t a fan of the way my skills were often used, but to be fair, they didn’t use them often. The times they did ask me, they had usually tried every alternative, at least later. When their initial methods failed, they turned to me.”

“So who did you go after?” Olivia asked after a few seconds.

“Whoever posed a threat to innocent lives,” Cerian answered, recalling the faces of his targets. “That wasn’t a UN mandate either. That was my personal goal. And if my targets didn’t meet that standard in some way, I refused.”

“You refused the _UN_?” Olivia asked incredulously. “How did you still keep your job?”

“The first time, I didn’t,” Cerian explained, this time glancing over with a genuine smile. “They wanted me to take out some African leader who was openly turning his country into a dictatorship. Once that was accomplished, this man started a little crusade against them; openly spiting them and refusing to even talk. The UN had supposedly tried everything and wanted to remove the problem and bring “freedom” back to the country.”

Cerian adjusted his rifle as it started to slip from his shoulder. “Thing was, he was a democratically elected leader who just so happened to despise the UN. He wasn’t doing anything against the citizen or oppressing them in any way. It didn’t take long to really figure out why he was so hostile; he was afraid the UN was going to take over his country and impose their rules.”

“Were they?” Olivia asked.

“At least some,” Cerian guessed. “Anyway, as you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t shoot the guy. I went back to command, told them why I didn’t and what approach should be taken in negotiating with this man. They didn’t like that and kicked me out. I’d kind of expected that and already had some other things lined up. But, lo and behold, they called within the week asking for me to return.”

“So what happened?” Olivia asked, taking a candy bar out of her back pocket and starting to eat.

“Someone in the UN actually took my advice,” Cerian answered. “The UN was approaching the entirety of the negotiations wrong. They were making demands, not looking to work with him. So, once they changed their tactics, he suddenly became a lot more receptive when he knew the sovereignty of his country wouldn’t be threatened.”

“How did no one figure that out before?” Olivia wondered, pursing her lips in bewilderment.

“Because for some, compromise is a sign of weakness,” Cerian answered. “Especially with an organization like the UN. To have one little country stand up and demand the UN treats them as equals implies that the UN is weak. So if intimidation and threats fail, assassination is the obvious next course of action,” Cerian laced his fingers together. “But sometimes, swallowing your pride and recognizing that you’re not the center of the world is good for _all_ parties.”

Cerian sighed. “But honestly, I think that they respected me taking a stand, even if I didn’t make it easy for them. Now, that obviously didn’t happen every time, but I do think that I helped ensure that assassination was only used as a true last resort.”

“Huh,” Olivia looked away. “You really never struck me as the assassin type.”

Cerian snorted. “And just what is the ‘assassin type?’ Having walls full of guns? Plotting in a dark room in an overly dramatic voice?”

“No,” Olivia answered, ignoring his sarcastic answer. “You’re not emotionless, not…cold or mechanical,” she glanced over. “I’m serious. I’ve taken down several assassins and they all exhibit similar characteristics.”

Cerian pursed his lips. “You took down _hitmen_. Assassins are those who remove threats to the population by lethal force as a last resort. Hitman remove targets indiscriminately regardless of whether it’s right or not. Some do it on orders, others are paid, but they are not _assassins._ ”

“That’s the first time anyone’s actually tried to make it sound noble,” Olivia commented neutrally.

“I wouldn’t say _noble_ ,” Cerian corrected. “Though I did try to bring some respectability to the profession. There is a stigma attached that will probably never fade. And I don’t have an issue with that, it does act as something of a deterrent to governments who are considering utilizing it.”

“I never really thought of it that way before,” Olivia admitted, looking forward as they kept walking. “Learn something new every day.”

“You were an MI6, correct?” Cerian recalled. “You must be familiar with this kind of work too?”

“I was mostly the woman sent in once the spies had located a hideout or group of criminals,” Olivia answered. “I didn’t do as much sneaking around as this. It’s an interesting change of pace.”

“You seem to be adapting fine,” Cerian complemented. “It’ll get more exciting later.”

“Hey, don’t jinx it,” Olivia commented lightly. “In this line of work, _exciting_ usually means us getting shot at or dying horribly.”

“True, true,” Cerian chuckled. “I hope Darril or Ren made some food.”

Olivia shuddered. “I…hope not. I have yet to meet a man in the military that knows how to cook something other than ramen.”

“Well, aren’t you generalizing,” Cerian said, trying to sound sarcastic, yet offended. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a bad cook.”

She snorted. “You don’t count. You had your own home and kitchen. I’d be worried if you _weren’t_ halfway competent.”

“Hey, Cerian!” Mary called over as they approached, waving them over.

“Is there food?” Cerian asked as he knelt down by Mary.

She looked up, confused. “What? No. But that doesn’t matter. I’ve found a _lot_ of interesting things here.”

“Like what?” Cerian asked, sitting on the ground.

“There is a _lot_ of money being processed through here,” Mary emphasized. “We’re talking in the billions of American dollars.”

“Is it illegal?” Cerian asked, frowning.

“Technically, no…” Mary answered slowly. “But the thing is, they’re not making digital transfers. Several of the payments come in the form of liquid assets. So not _money_ per-se. There are several suspect companies, but I want you to guess who their biggest customer is. Go on, guess.”

Cerian sighed, but figured it was worth indulging her especially since she’d done exceptionally. “First, are we talking governments or strictly corporations?”

“Business, corporations, whatever,” she waved her hand. “But no governments, thankfully.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Let’s say…I don’t know, the NRA?”

“Closer than you think,” Mary answered with a smile. “Solaris Industries.”

“The American weapons manufacturer?” Olivia asked incredulously. “They just signed an agreement with the United States military.”

“That they did,” Mary nodded, sounding very self-satisfied. “And if you notice, all of their payments are in the form of assets. And I just wonder _what_ sorts of assets they’re paying with?”

A shell company. So, this put a whole new light onto why XCOM was interested. “We need to shut this place down,” Cerian said. “We need to get everything this company has.”

“How do you want to do that?” Mary asked, biting her lip. “I mean, it’s going to be hard to prove this without evidence, and while these records _do_ show highly suspicious activity, I don’t think it’s enough for a conviction.”

“Then don’t do it officially,” Cerian ordered. “Send it to the Russians. I think they’d be very interested in knowing a weapon smuggling ring is thriving in their country. If they act, the UN can then ask to become involved officially.”

“What about Patrick?” Olivia asked.

“I’ll update him too,” Cerian nodded. “But the UN can’t act and move without Russian approval. Shutting this place down will go quicker if the Russians do it on their own.”

“Will do,” Mary nodded. “It’ll be done soon.”

“Excellent work,” he complemented. “All of you. I think we all deserve a short break.”

There was a chorus of agreement and they all settled in for the night, proud they had achieved at least something of a victory.

***

_Three Days Later_

“The tracker we managed to place on the outgoing trucks matches up with the records we’ve received from the transmitter,” Ruth updated for Zhang who watched from Akello’s computer screen. “If I had to guess, I’d think this is EXALT storage area of some kind. You’ll have to use the satellites to be sure.”

Zhang gave a brief nod. _“Good. I will inform the Commander. Are you continuing to receive information from the transmitter?”_

“Yes, Director,” Akello confirmed. “We’re getting more every day. Much of what we recovered has other leads we can follow up on. Kalonymous is going through them now.”

“Most of them are in Russian,” Abby added. “I’ve been working on the ones in English.”

 _“Anything of note?”_ Zhang inquired, looking down at something in his hand.

“There are heavy financial ties to Solaris Industries,” Abby continued. That particular bit of information had come as a surprise to her, and also kind of made her sad. She didn’t care much for the corporation itself, but she respected Matthew, the man who ran it. He seemed the standard for what people in business should be. She might not agree with all of his positions, but at least she could respect him from how he treated others.

She wondered how far up it went. Matthew didn’t seem the type to be involved in something like this, but it _had_ to be someone pretty high up given the amount of money being spent. Well, that was for Zhang and the Commander to decide what to do with this information.

Zhang didn’t react much to the new, though that seemed to be standard for him. _“A concerning piece of intel,”_ he mused, actually _sounding_ concerned for once. _“Especially since Solaris Industries is slowly becoming the largest weapons manufacturer in the United States, both financially and politically. Is there any indication Mr. Solaris himself could be involved?”_

“I didn’t find any names,” Abby answered with a sigh. “Personally, Matthew doesn’t seem the type to do this. But with the amount of money being spent…I don’t know. It has to be someone _very_ high up in the company.”

 _“I’ll keep that in mind,”_ Zhang promised. _“Your work is done here. I want you to converge on this EXALT facility and scope out the area before our attack.”_

Ruth frowned. “An attack? So soon? We might be able to get more-“

 _“We have enough information to begin investigating other leads,”_ Zhang interrupted coldly. _“Aside from that, this attack will send a message to EXALT. One of retaliation.”_

Abby frowned, a wave of cold swept over her. That didn’t sound good at all. “What happened?”

 _“We made contact with EXALT military forces,”_ Zhang answered grimly. _“They ambushed us and drove us away. We lost three soldiers and the Commander feels that a retaliation strike would serve as an excellent start to our counter-attack.”_

“Damn,” Ruth muttered. “In that case, we’ll have something by the end of the day. They still don’t know we’re here, so I wouldn’t expect much resistance.”

 _“We’ll be waiting,”_ Zhang finished and ended the call.

Ruth strode over to where Kalonymous was sitting down. “All right, we’re heading out now. Do your reading on the way.”

“Yes, miss Shira,” he responded in a patronizing tone as he reluctantly got to his feet.

Within a half hour, they’d packed up all their gear and were in the car and driving in the direction of the EXALT facility. At first Abby had found the scenery rather beautiful, but now it didn’t grab her attention like before. It was just another hill, tree or valley.

“Everyone wave goodbye as we pass,” Kalonymous joked as they went past the factory for, hopefully, the last time. The smile on his face slowly faded and his hand lowered. “The hell?”

Abby looked over in the direction of the factory and blinked. The area was swarming with Russian soldiers. At least a couple dozen with military trucks and cars parked in the lots.

“Oh, that’s not good.” She breathed. Well, there went any chance of the upcoming raid being easy. EXALT would be a high alert now, and would cut any kind of intel to the factory, effectively removing any chance to learn more from their files.

“Really, Russia?” Akello asked to no one in particular. “You had to pick _now_ of all times to move on the company?”

“If this wasn’t going to negatively impact them, I’d almost wonder if they were doing this on purpose,” Kalonymous commented as he drove past. “Seriously, this is going to make things _much_ more difficult.”

“How did they even know?” Abby wondered.

“My guess is that they’ve been watching for a while,” Ruth answered, pursing her lips. “And it’s just our bad luck that they decided to move now.”

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” Kalonymous said with a sigh. “Zhang is just going to love this.”

“On the bright side, at least there’ll be more EXALT soldiers to kill,” Ruth suggested. “Let’s hope everyone’s up to the task.”

On that happy note, Abby settled in for the long drive over. Half-nervous, half in anticipation for the fight ahead.

***

Supplementary Material

XCOM Operative Alien Handbook: _“Thin Man”_

OVERVIEW: The alien that soldiers within XCOM have referred to as the “Thin man,” was first encountered early in the invasion during a mission into China. True to its name, the initial incarnation of the alien was unnatural thin and disproportionate to human standards of physical appearance. While the aliens have continued to improve upon this particular species, their overall role has not changed, which is primarily infiltration and espionage.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION AND CAPABILITIES: Thin Men are currently classified as one of three types. The first of them is referred to as a Generation I Thin Man (Gen-1), the second as a Generation II (Gen-2) Thin Man and the final as a Generation III (Gen-3) Thin Man.

 _Generation I Thin Man:_ These exist as the alien’s first attempt to create human doppelgangers to infiltrate our species. While the disguise could pass from a distance, even regular civilians would be able to spot obvious clues as to this creatures extraterrestrial origins.

Generation I Thin Men stand exactly 1.95 meters and have unusually thin arms, legs and torsos. They resemble a typical Caucasian with short black hair. They tend to walk jerkily, as if the body they wear is unusual to them. Their heads have clearly larger skulls than the average human and are disproportionate to the face itself, spots of some kind also adorn its neck, making it easy to spot. The eyes are also reptilian, a clear clue that the aliens have not been able to remove. The aliens attempted to negate the obvious physical differences by having these Gen-1 Thin Men wear various hats, sunglasses and high –collared clothing.

To date, there has not been a recorded instance of a Gen-1 Thin Man communicating with other humans in a recognizable human language. They have been observed communication via shrieks and wails. It is unknown if this is their primary method of communicating. To date, all encountered Gen-1 Thin Men have been male and are almost identical in appearance. Genetic observation performed by Dr. Moira Vahlen has confirmed that these are not clones like the Sectoid species, but rather, a complete, intrusive and total genetic modification.

Gen-1 Thin Men are capable of wielding all types of weaponry and are particularly good shots. They also have the ability to spit a lethal toxin at soldiers. It is unknown how often they can utilize this ability. Gen-1 Thin Men are exceptionally agile and can leap great distances and survive falls that would kill most humans. Due to their lack of armor, only one or two shots are needed to kill them. It should be noted that upon death, some Gen-1 Thin Men emit the toxin they shoot around their corpse, rendering the immediate area toxic.

 _Note 1_ : Gen-1 Thin Men are most likely to be encountered in combat situations. The reason for this is unknown.

 _Generation II Thin Men:_ These exist as the second, and more refined version of this species. While the alien does tend to stay around a height of 1.8 meters, there is a far greater range of diversity between the bodies recovered. Based on the bodies recovered, the aliens seemingly have the ability to modify skin color, hair color, essentially every factor of appearance with the exception of the eyes, which still retain their reptilian look.

Gen-2 Thin Men are far better proportioned, though a careful analysis will note some lingering thinness in their arms and legs, though the aliens have negated this physical abnormality by having the thin men wear clothing that covers the arms and legs. The head has also been improved, and is nearly indistinguishable from an actual human. The spots that adorned the neck of Gen-1 Thin Men have been removed, improving the alien’s ability to infiltrate.

A curious characteristic of the Gen-2 Thin Man is that this is the only recorded alien communicating in a human language. They appear to have the ability to adopt languages and accents to solidify their cover and allow for a deadlier ambush. They are capable to posing as male and female humans and retain the abilities of Gen-1 Thin Men in terms of combat and agility.

 _Generation III Thin Men:_ To date, there has never been a documented encounter of a Gen-3 Thin Man. This entry is merely theoretical, hypothesizing the next evolution of this alien species. A Gen-3 Thin man would be identical to a human in every way, and be capable of independent interaction and high-profile infiltration and espionage.

It follows that the Gen-3 Thin Man would retain the agility and abilities of Gen-2 Thin Men, if not improve upon them. What this would entail is theoretical and impossible to predict due to the high genetic mutability of this alien. It is not implausible for the aliens to use a Gen-3 Thin Man to replace a prominent human figure, political or military leader.

 _Note 2_ : Please note again that this section is theoretical. There has not been any indication that the aliens have, or are developing, Gen-3 Thin Men.

 _Note 3_ : While rare, a variation on the Gen-1 Thin Man has been spotted in several missions. This Thin Man appears to have been created for the purposes of long-range combat. These “Thin Man Snipers” wield plasma sniper rifles and have had cybernetic enhancements to their eyes and head, presumably to improve coordination and aim. It is also worth noting that these Thin Men are often slightly more armored than usual.

STRENGTHS:

  1. Plasma Weaponry: Despite advances in XCOM technology, plasma weapons are still more dangerous than any firearm developed on Earth. The damages this weapon can cause are extensive and often fatal.



 

 _Counter:_ While not the strongest variant of plasma weaponry the aliens utilize, the plasma carbine that Thin Men of both generations wield is dangerous in any situation and lethal at close range. While XCOM had made strides in armor to render a single shot non-lethal, it is not recommended you test the armor for repeated shots.

 

  1. Agility: The Thin Men of both generations are exceptionally agile and are able to leap distances of up to ten feet or more (That have been recorded). They have also been observed leaping from four story buildings without injuring themselves, offering them a massive tactical advantage in a prolonged battle.



 

 _Counter:_ It is advised that soldiers wielding laser weaponry use sustained beams in horizontal cuts by the legs to make it difficult for the thin man to dodge conventionally. Usage of flash-bangs has also been observed to be effective in limiting their agility.

 

  1. Infiltration (Gen-2 Only): Due to the alien’s improvement and genetic manipulation, these thin men are able to blend into crowds with greater ease, rendering the chance for a surprise attack extremely, especially in crowded areas.



 

 _Counter:_ Despite advances in appearance, Gen-2 Thin Men do retain some of the jerky walk that plagued the Gen-1 Thin Men. While much more subtle, it is consistent and should be easy to spot. As the aliens have not been able to fix the eyes, watch for eyewear that covers the pupil, especially in odd places or times such as at night, a cloudy day, or indoors.

 

  1. Toxin: The Thin Man has the ability to spit toxin at a small area. The toxin acts as both a poison and an acid and is lethal to unarmored individuals caught in it’s radius. It is also theorized that because of this ability, Thin Men are immune to poisons and toxic gases.



 

 _Counter:_ Step away from the field as quickly as possible and quickly spray all wounds with a med-kit which is capable of neutralizing the toxin quickly and safely. Alternatively, kill the Thin Man before he has a chance to spit at you in the first place.

 

WEAKNESSES:

  1. Unarmored: The Thin Man wears little to no armor due to it’s primary role as an infiltration and espionage unit. The most protection is various civilian clothing. Laser weaponry is effective and will cut into them will virtually no resistance. They are also vulnerable to environmental hazards such as fire and electricity.
  2. Support Grenades: Thin Men are vulnerable to the flash-bang, as it will disrupt their ability to focus and move as quickly. Offensively used smoke grenades are also effective for disrupting a group of Thin Men.



 

TACTICS:

  1. Laser Trap: Due to the Thin Men lacking much armor or protection, a laser traps is particularly effective. Simply sustain lasers for no more than five seconds and aim as directed by the Squad Overseer. Use in open or uncovered spaces for maximum effectiveness.
  2. Flank: Have two to three soldiers suppress a group of Thin Men in cover. As they do this, a second team will move around the side (Determined by the Squad Overseer), and open fire on the exposed aliens. Use on contained or clustered groups for maximum effectiveness.
  3. Offensive Smoke Grenade: Throw a smoke grenade into the midst of a group of Thin Men. Ensure that the HUD is set to filter out smoke, allowing a clear view of the exposed sectoids. If they are exposed, fire. If not, use this opportunity to advance into a better position. Use on contained or clustered groups for maximum effectiveness.
  4. Flash-Bang: Throw a flash-bang to negate agility and cause disorientation. Additionally, this opportunity may be used to advance to a better position. Use on thin men in superior cover or who are contained or clustered.



 

PSIONICS: To date, there have been no recorded instances of Thin Men of any generation utilizing psionic abilities.

  

 

 


	14. EXALT Raid: Russia

 

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

“ _Progress on the alien metals and weapons is proceeding well,”_ Diguon updated, his hands clasped behind his back as he updated Saudia. _“Thanks to the XCOM gear Zara recovered, we should begin to match XCOM within weeks.”_

Zara snorted, causing her hologram to shimmer for a moment. _“You better. I lost a lot of good soldiers to them. We barely managed to make it out before that airstrike. Speaking of which, that might have been helpful to know beforehand.”_

“We didn’t know XCOM would raze the area,” Saudia defended, pursing her lips. “Had we known that, you would have as well.”

Diguon glanced at Zara, dispassionately as ever. _“But you did make it out. How close it was doesn’t matter. Aside from that, the barricades worked exactly as expected.”_

“Yes, excellent job on that,” Saudia commended, inclining her head towards him. “Both of you performed exceptionally and handed XCOM a resounding defeat.”

 _“As is our job, Director **,** ”_ Diguon acknowledged, lowering his head.

Zara wasn’t quite as thrilled, at least from her posture. Her crossed arms and intense, almost angry gaze didn’t exactly scream _pleased_. “ _I wouldn’t celebrate too soon, Mercado,”_ she warned, jabbing a finger at Diguon. _“We might have won that battle, but only because they weren’t expecting us. Five of them managed to kill more of my soldiers in one battle than in the past five years combined.”_

“I thought there were six soldiers?” Saudia recalled from the report.

 _“I’m not counting the one that was blown up by our rocketeers,”_ Zara clarified, taking a step back.

Fair enough. Saudia could understand that, but for this particular engagement, it was less about the soldiers lost and more about defeating XCOM. She did mourn for their loss, but they had died for the cause, and she would never forget that. “Our next attack will go much smoother,” Saudia reassured Zara, raising her hands as if placating her. “Especially when Diguon and Darian develop more equipment from the alien tech.”

 _“Assuming of course that we dictate when the next conflict is,”_ Zara contested, taking a step toward Saudia, who fixed her with a glare. _“You really think XCOM is just going to ignore what we did? They’ll be hunting us now, especially now that we’ve given them a reason to do so.”_

“As if our previous encounters weren’t incentive enough? I’m well aware XCOM will seek retaliation for this,” Saudia answered calmly, her cold eyes boring into Zara’s intense ones. “But the fact is that they will not be able to instigate a fight without us knowing about it. They do not have our reach or resources. XCOM cannot effectively fight a war on two fronts. Elizabeth has assured me that her people have not found any evidence of XCOM or the United Nations espionage of us, let alone tampering with our equipment. All operations are proceeding normally.”

Diguon pursed his lips. _“That…is not quite accurate, Director. One of our Russian companies has recently come under investigation from the Russian government.”_

Saudia frowned, _that_ news was new to her. “ _How_?”

 _“Elizabeth and I are working on that question now,”_ Diguon answered grimly, as he stroked his chin. _“But I wouldn’t ascribe this to XCOM right away. While unlikely, it’s possible that the Russians have been watching it for some time and have decided to act now.”_

 _“Right after we hand XCOM a defeat?”_ Zara demanded sarcastically, crossing her arms again. _“Pretty interesting coincidence.”_

“If it is XCOM, then they should be ashamed of revealing their hand so early,” Saudia commented, shaking her head. “Because now we know _someone_ is investigating. And we can prepare for that.”

 _“That we can,”_ Diguon agreed, picking up a tablet from an off-screen table. _“All our Russian outposts are on high alert in case someone does show up at any of them.”_

“Good to know. Now, as for the company, how much was compromised?” Saudia demanded. “I presume all the protocols were followed?”

 _“To the letter,”_ Diguon assumed her with a sharp nod. _“All our sensitive documents were purged and replaced with dummy ledgers. The Russians, and anyone else, will find nothing incriminating, let alone information that would trace them to us.”_

“Do you know what tipped them off in the first place?”

 _“Our sources within the administration have told me that FIS acquired documents,”_ Diguon answered, referring to Russia’s Intelligence branch. _“Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly what they contain. But I do know that the source was anonymous.”_

That was good, it made things much easier. “Good to hear,” she nodded, reassured that things would be brought under control. “The Russians will find everything in order and assume the documents were forged.”

 _“Most likely, at least officially,”_ Diguon nodded warily. _“Although, this might not go away as quickly as we hope. Elizabeth told me that the President has apparently taken an interest in this investigation.”_

That, on the other hand, was _not_ good. Even if the investigation itself was closed. “Tell Elizabeth I want this confirmed,” Saudia ordered, beginning to pace as she considered possible responses. “The last thing I want is the Russians interfering.”

 _“Why would he take an interest?”_ Zara asked, looking confused. _“Unless…”_

 _“He knows something about us, or at least suspects,”_ Diguon finished as he set the tablet down on a table. _“A possibility. But one I’m not concerned with at the moment. The President is overly paranoid and if he’d ever suspected us, I’d think we’d been receiving much more interference.”_

“The Russians will be dealt with in time, and I trust Elizabeth and you will keep this contained,” Saudia said as she laid her hands on the wooden table in the middle of the room. “We have more immediate matters to deal with. Returning to the subject of XCOM, they need to be distracted now. I’m going to be speaking with our alien allies in a short time and begin our first coordinated attacks on North America.”

 _“And what is the focus going to be?”_ Zara asked. _“Tactics or terror?”_

“I have some locations that will accomplish both,” Saudia answered. “It involves the chryssalids.”

Zara shuddered at that, and even Diguon looked disconcerted. _“We want to wound North America, not destroy her,”_ Diguon pointed out. _“If you suggest that aliens use the chryssalids, you might unleash a plague that could interfere with our future plans.”_

“I’m well aware of that,” Saudia answered. “Which is why the locations will not be in major city centers. North America will not be damaged irrevocably. But this will help spread terror and influence the coming election in the USA.”

 _“And if XCOM interferes?”_ Zara demanded.

Saudia’s lips curled into a smile. “XCOM cannot be _everywhere_.”

 _“Better if we ‘accidentally’ leak one of the attack locations,”_ Diguon suggested. _“They’ll be focused on that and fail to look for more disturbances.”_

“Exactly,” Saudia nodded. “And now for something that should increase our own research advances, I’m going to approach this Richard Tygan and recruit him for our cause.”

 _“You sure he’s worth the risk?”_ Zara asked, cocking her head. _“I don’t feel comfortable allowing an untested and unscreened man into our organization, much less a scientist.”_

“The science and our goals for the aliens will be enough to bring him in,” Saudia answered. “He’s young and wants to help. How better to help humanity than turn their tech against them?”

 _“If Matthew thinks he’d work, that’s good enough,”_ Diguon nodded. _“Still, sudden recruitments aren’t done for a reason.”_

Saudia sighed. “Unfortunately, we have little choice if we want to gain a time advantage. Should he prove troublesome, he will be disposed of. The world will not miss one geneticist.”

 _“Keep me informed,”_ Zara said as she stepped back. _“I’ll let you have your conversation with our alien allies now. Until next time, Director.”_

Her hologram faded and a few seconds later, Diguon’s did as well. That meeting concluded, it was time to being the next one. A few minutes later, the image of the Speaker appeared, looking as smug and collected as ever.

That little smirk on his face aggravated her for some reason. It screamed of _superiority_ over everyone else. She wouldn’t mind removing it in various ways, but that wasn’t the goal for today.

 _“Greetings, Director,”_ the Speaker inclined his head in her direction, the words rolling smoothly off his alien tongue. _“On behalf of the Elders, I would like to congratulate you on your victory over XCOM.”_

“Thank you, Speaker,” She answered courteously **;** falsely. “XCOM put up a good fight, but in the end they succumbed to us.”

 _“One of their more admirable traits,”_ the Speaker agreed, giving his eerie smile. _“They are excellent soldiers, if nothing else. We are pleased to see our alliance is being…rewarded.”_

 _For now, for now._ That would change soon. But now, they still needed the aliens on their side. “If I might make a suggestion,” Saudia began. “I have an idea for a potential attack that would strike a blow against North America.”

The Speaker cocked his head in clear interest. _“A continent composed of several influential nations, curious. Please continue.”_

“That it is,” Saudia agreed. “Now, as for my plan. Have you heard of the island of Newfoundland?”

***

_The Bastion, Subject Cells_

It was slow going, but she was getting better at it every day. Annette had been able to replicate her brief mind control over the guard several times, but wasn’t able to maintain it for very long when doing so. She still didn’t know the finer details of it either, such as how to make sense of the rush of images, sensations, words and feelings that rushed through the mind.

Annette knelt on the floor and started breathing deeply. This had become a habitual position for her whenever she attempted to use the mental powers at her disposal. Her preliminary plan at the moment was simple: extract every piece of information she could from the guards, or anyone else who came her way. Then, once she had it, plan an escape and execute it by controlling the guards.

The only roadblocks she was having were actually finding _memories_ or anything specific, really. She wasn’t quite sure how she could ever make sense of it, but she knew that it was her only chance of escape. Following and reading current thoughts were easy now, ever since she’d listened to the voices, it hadn’t taken long to figure out that they were the current _thoughts_ of people.

She’d assumed that they were trying to communicate with her when that wasn’t the case; all she was doing was simply hearing them. Distance also seemed to affect how strong or weak they were; she could follow a conversation between the two guards in front of her cell as if she was there, but she had to strain if she wanted to listen to some guy a couple stories above her.

The flood of information had been overwhelming at first, and in fact, still was. At best she could only pay attention to only two streams of thought. Conversations were easiest, but individual streams were also possible, albeit those caused her more awful headaches. But a useful side effect was that she’d learned how to block out most of the voices instinctually, allowing her to sleep _moderately_ well for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Another benefit of listening to the voices was that now, it was if some barrier had been broken, allowing her to access her power in a more physical manner. She was getting better at summoning the energy at will, though was deliberately keeping it as contained as possible. EXALT were watching, after all.

EXALT. That word had been used in such strange contexts by various people’s thoughts until she’d finally figured out that it wasn’t being used as a word, it was a _name_. A name that was responsible for her capture. A name that meant nothing, but at least she had a name for her enemy.

XCOM. That was another word she’d noted being used more recently. Apparently, EXALT had won some battle against them, and she wasn’t sure what that meant. Were there new wars breaking out? Which countries did these organizations belong to? Oddly enough, she couldn’t tell just from the streams of thought alone.

Most of it was in English, but she’d noted streams in Chinese and Russian, which implied EXALT was a multinational, or at least multilingual, organization. Maybe. She still wasn’t entirely sure. But one thing that was incredibly odd was the constant references to ‘aliens.’ If she didn’t know that was impossible, she’d have guessed there was actually an invasion happening.

“Alien” must be some slang for an illegal immigrant, they were sometimes called that in America and she’d heard it occasionally in France as well. So…did it mean that this was some kind of alt-right anti-immigrant organization? It _did_ sort of work, the name EXALT could appeal to some kind of nationalist pride.

But that didn’t explain why they were conducting experiments on her and others. What purpose could that ever serve? She hadn’t been able to figure out where she was yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone’s thoughts wandered and let something slip. The only issue was that she’d have to be listening.

As her breathing became steady she closed her eyes and let everything wash over her. The easiest way to envision a black void and then it would begin to fill with ‘signals.’ Distance was important here, but did not translate into the real world. Nothing was linear here and the minds of the two men guarding her could be in random places in the void.

Based on the strength of the signals, she could also determine how many people were in her general area. She detected twelve right now, most of the guards, but there was one who she was fairly certain was another prisoner like herself. She’d considered trying to….contact him or her or do _something_ but she wasn’t sure if it was a trap or not. Or how they’d react to someone else entering their mind without their permission. They might know some kind of defense and could hurt her in a way she couldn’t stop.

She had to get more adapt at this mind reading skill before attempting to contact another potential psionic. In the meantime-

She gasped. There was someone new, someone whose mind was…cold, closed, _focused_. Her eyes snapped open and she quickly shook her head. She’d never felt that sensation before, everything usually _flowed_ and was _smooth_. Not whoever this person was. She felt the familiar call of the power within her as the familiar feeling of fear entered her.

Almost instinctually, a faint purple pulse traveled down her left arm and her hand stiffened as purple sparks jumped from her fingers. She consciously relaxed and began breathing deeply again. Releasing the power was tempting, but she didn’t want to do anything until this person was gone. Slowly, her hand relaxed and she looked down at it, observing the tears in her flesh already beginning to heal.

It was interesting how it no longer hurt as much. She supposed that repeated usage had led to her becoming desensitized to it. Something she wasn’t too sad about. With a squeak the door opened and in walked a man flanked by her two guards.

She’d never seen him before, that she was certain. Short brown hair and a stern face that was impenetrable. Something seemed wrong with one of his eyes, almost like it was…fake? No, it was moving and blinking and the pupils seemed to work. An artificial one? Did that exist?

“Subject Four,” He said with a deep, yet neutral voice. “Please turn around.”

She swallowed. She could hear the voices and one that sounded remarkably like his among them, but she was too nervous to concentrate. “What are you going to do?” She asked, her voice cracked as she recalled she hadn’t actually spoken to anyone in…days, or was it weeks? The only usage it had received was when she screamed.

“That is not your concern,” he answered, fixing her with a cold stare. “You are not to be executed if that is what you’re wondering.”

In fact, that _had_ been what she was wondering. But she was sick of taking orders. “No,” she spat, crossing her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He didn’t even look annoyed. “Suit yourself.” He said and one of the guards pressed a button on his wrist. She screamed as the electrical current ran through her body, the white hot pain forcing her to the ground and causing her vision to flicker. It stopped a few seconds later and she was blearily aware of the man behind her forcing her arms behind her back and restraining them.

With what seemed like no effort, he hauled her to her feet. Once she was up, she took a few shaky steps to get reoriented, her mind still swimming. Disoriented, she stumbled forward when he grabbed her left arm and lead her out of the cell. She should have just come instead of trying to be defiant, especially since this would have been a perfect time to try and notice details about the building for when she could escape.

Unfortunately, now she was too dizzy to make any sort or observations, only stumble forward as they led her around corners, up elevators and down stairs. After a while she was mostly recovered, though she still feigned weakness so they wouldn’t be suspicious. They were approaching another glass chamber, though this one seemed…different.

It was a massive square enclosed by floor-to-ceiling glass. Objects, boxes and other things were scattered around inside, along with three other people who looked as exhausted, wounded and beaten as her. Other prisoners? Were they also psionic?

The men opened the glass door and tossed her inside. Giving him a hateful glance, she turned her attention to the others now with her. Two men and one woman. One of the men was light-skinned and has short brown hair. He was pretty large, towering over the other two. He might have been former military, probably from America or the EU perhaps?

The other two were clearly related in some way, though she couldn’t tell if they were siblings or a couple. Their brown skin seemed to indicate they had Middle Eastern origins. The man was tall, though not nearly as much as the other man. He had short black hair and a oddly neat beard. EXALT must have provided some kind of shaving or cutting tools for the men. Oddly considerate.

The woman looked the weakest out of all of them. Annette was certain she was taller and she looked physically frail. Petite. Annette was somewhat surprised she was still alive. She wouldn’t have pegged her as one to make it through. Her black hair fell just beyond her shoulders, but was very untidy.

She began to walk toward them and stopped. EXALT were undoubtable listening and she didn’t want anyone to hear the questions she was going to ask. But there _was_ a way that might be possible. She closed her eyes and focused on the closest voices to her. Yep, they were all definitely different from the regular voices. Much more defined and easy to locate.

She focused on one of the men. She’d never tried communicating before, so she figured a greeting might be a good start. _Hey,_ she projected towards the man, trying to draw as much attention as possible. She knew what made the voices stand out to her, but wasn’t sure if it was universal or not. _Can you hear me?_

There was a fluctuation in his thought stream, a moment where everything stopped. She felt the briefest flicker of surprise. _What is this?_ The voice had an unfamiliar accent, so she was pretty sure she was talking to the Middle Eastern man.

 _I’m the one who just walked in,_ Annette answered, and despite the risk of distraction, she opened her eyes and nodded toward the man who was now looking at her. He cocked his head and gave the briefest of nods. _I figured it was safer to communicate this way,_ Annette explained. _They’re always listening._

The man shifted, bumping into the woman who looked up at him and then her. _So you can do it too,_ he communicated. _Perhaps we all can._

She didn’t bother to hide her confusion, and closed her eyes as she felt the connection wavering. _What?_

_Hear people’s thoughts, influence them. I can’t really contact as you’re doing, but I can respond._

_What is your name?_ A new, female voice entered her mind. It must be the woman.

 _Annette._ She answered

 _Fatima,_ the woman communicated. _I think you’re communicating with my husband._

Annette instinctively nodded, trying to focus on both minds. _Yes, what’s his name?_

 _Said,_ she responded. _Tell him I say hello, so he’ll know we’re communicating._

 _Ok._ Annette focused on Said’s thought stream. _Your wife says hello._

 _Fast of her,_ he commented, she thought she detected some faint trace of amusement. _Good to meet you…Annette. I wondered if we were the only ones left._

 _I think we are,_ Annette answered. _But I don’t know. Who’s the other man next to you?_

 _Matthew,_ was the answer. _He’s not as good at communicating. Not as talented as us in that respect._

“Would you stop that?” A new voice said aloud. Annette scowled and opened her eyes as she looked at Matthew who she assumed was the one who’d spoken. “It’s nice you can do that,” he continued in a softer voice. “But it’s going to look odd if we just stand here looked silently at each other.”

He did have a point. The last thing she wanted was to have EXALT figure out their mental abilities. Because then they might decide it was safer to just kill them. “Fine. Did they stun and drag you here as well?”

 _“Sedated,”_ Matthew corrected smugly. “They don’t come physically into my cell anymore.”

“Why is that?” Annette asked.

“I killed them,” he answered simply. “They didn’t like that. Would have probably escaped if not for this damn chip.”

“You could probably say that for all of us,” Said muttered. “Or the fact that the guards would shoot us instantly. Or that there is no way to get out of here.”

“Sure there is,” Annette contested, frowning. “It might take some running-“

“Annette dear, we’re in _Antarctica,”_ Fatima chided softly. “We’d die if we left here.”

Annette froze. If that were true…how could she _ever_ escape unnoticed? “You sure?” She asked softly, not quite willing to give up yet.

“One of the guards let it slip,” Fatima told her. “I’m sure.”

Annette leaned against the wall as best she could with her bound hands. “Damn it.”

“Hey, but at least we get to listen to interesting conversations,” Matthew shrugged wearily. “Some of the stuff they talk about is interesting. You know what the call us?”

“Subject _insert name here_?” Annette guessed sarcastically. “Or just _test subject_?”

“Maybe to you, and only officially,” Matthew answered, the faintest smile on his face. “But no. At least to themselves the name is something a little more creative.”

“Get to the point.” Annette growled.

“Pushy,” Matthew chided lightly, appearing to enjoy this exchange. “Fine. They call us the Furies.”

Annette’s eyebrows furrowed. “I assume that means something beyond the obvious?”

“Quite,” Fatima agreed softly. “It’s rather symbolic of them, actually. The Furies were demons of Greek mythology. They were the punishers of Hades and were feared and hated by all. But they were extremely powerful and terrified their enemies.”

“Not terribly subtle,” Matthew muttered. “I’m terrible with this sort of stuff and they might as well be hanging a banner over it.”

“We are assuming that there is some actual symbolic meaning behind this,” Said commented as he moved up by Fatima who rested her head on his shoulder as comfortably as she could manage with the restraints. “I’m more curious as to which soldier started it. If it was an American, I’d wager he came up with it because it ‘sounded cool.’ That is the term, yes?”

He shot a questioning glance at her. She shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m not American. But I’d ascribe that more to younger people into the games, comics and movies today.”

“You look pretty young yourself,” Matthew commented. “You sure you want to make that assumption.”

“I’m twenty-five,” she scowled at him. “Old enough to be out of that crowd.”

“Well, the point was I found it interesting,” Matthew continued. “Also interesting, it was apparently you that inspired it. Guess you did something pretty spectacular.”

Annette thought back to some of her previous demonstrates, unwitting and otherwise. “Perhaps,” she muttered. _Furies_. That did seem a fitting name for her, especially once she escaped.

With a click her restraints suddenly fell off and clattered on the ground. She began rubbing her wrists as she looked curiously at the ground. What was this? A light shimmered above her and then materialized into the hologram of a man in a lab suit. He held a tablet and appraised them coldly.

 _“Test subjects,”_ he began. _“Please step behind the yellow line. Should you refuse to comply, we will utilize the chip.”_ Annette looked behind her and did indeed see a yellow line at the end of the room. She sighed. Rebelling would accomplish nothing and she wanted to know what they were doing this time. Apparently, all of them felt the same way and walked behind the yellow line.

 _“Subject Seven, remain outside,”_ the scientist ordered and Matthew stopped and turned around.

Once the three of them were inside, new glass walls fell from the ceiling, directly on the yellow lines, pinning them in. _“You four have been observed over the past few weeks as we made notes on the manifestation of your abilities,”_ the scientist continued. _“Today you will put those abilities to the test. Failure to comply will be painful.”_

Annette swallowed. Wonderful, at least this might give her an idea of how much EXALT actually know about psionics. Matthew rolled his shoulder and walked out into the middle of the room. Annette noticed that quite a few were watching them, they mostly looked like soldiers with odd colored bandannas and a surprising amount of ethnicities. Several scientists and other distinctly dressed people were also in the crowd.

A small turret-like machine descended from the ceiling and aimed at Matthew. Although upon closer inspection, it didn’t look like a weapon. The barrel was much larger and tubular than a gun, more like something that would launch a grenade. It looked just large enough to fit a baseball inside.

 _“Catch the ball.”_ The scientist ordered and the turret spat out a white ball directly at Matthew. It hit him square in the head and he took a step back. So it must not be that hard. He glanced up at the turret and sighed.

“Really? This is the best you could come up with?”

No one responded, but the turret shot another ball at him. Instantly, the air around Matthew’s right arm became distorted, as if seen through a heat wave. It was an extremely faint purple that shimmered in the bright light that grew more distinct with each second. His eyes had a faint purple overlay, but otherwise were normal.

He extended his hand and the ball suddenly stopped and hovered about a meter from his hand. A faint, purple field had enveloped the ball, seemingly keeping it in place. Matthew twisted his hand over and the ball moved right over it. The field keeping the ball suspended disappeared and it fell into his hand.

Annette blinked. So, telekinesis was possible. She’d never actually considered that possibility, accepting that her more _destructive_ powers were all that she was able to do. Apparently the range of abilities was much greater than she’d initially thought. Did that mean _she_ could learn how to do that?

 _“Good,”_ the scientist said. _“Now for something a bit harder.”_

Two more turrets descended, forming something of a triangle with the first turret, effectively flanking Matthew in the center. Still enveloped in shimmering psionic energy, he nodded as he prepared for the next wave. The turrets fired and he raised a hand and the balls immediately slowed and were gently lowered to the floor.

Matthew looked almost bored as he did so. So much so that he failed to hear a sharp metallic sound cutting through the air. He stumbled back and clutched his arm, looking in disbelief at the cut on it. It wasn’t deep, but he barely jumped aside as another blade flew through the air from a new turret that had dropped from the ceiling.

He snarled and extended his hand again and the blade stopped. With a flick of his wrist he sent it flying towards one of the windows and Annette got a small amount of enjoyment at seeing those closest flinch as it bounced off. Two more of those turrets dropped down and began firing.

But now Matthew didn’t seem so worried. With his right hand up in the direction of the turrets, he was managing to direct them away, if not catch them outright. She had no idea how he was managing any of it, but whatever he was doing was working. The purple shimmer around him deepened in color and his eyes were now fully purple, glowing with a dangerous intensity.

He extended his hand towards one of the crates that was in the room and flung it up towards the turrets. The crate leapt from the ground and flew at them with deadly force. Unfortunately, the turrets simply pulled back up and the crate hit a flat ceiling.

 _“Clever,”_ the scientist commented. _“And proficient.”_

“ _Shut up_ ,” Matthew snarled, his voice layered. _“Are you satisfied?”_

 _“Almost.”_ Yet another turret descended from the ceiling, but unlike the others, this one actually looked lethal. It took her a second to realize she was looking at some kind of rocket launcher. Would they really-?

It fired at him and Matthew barely raised his hands in time to stop it. Bracing himself and with his hands extended, he barely seemed to be keeping the rocket at bay. With a shout, he crossed his arms and the rocket went flying upwards and hit the ceiling and sputtered out as it fell to the floor.

Annette stared at it. So it hadn’t even been armed. So they really weren’t planning on killing them, at least not yet. Matthew has fallen to one knee and the aura around them had faded. Now he just looked tired.

 _“Well done,”_ the scientist complemented. _“You may rejoin the others.”_ The glass wall containing them raised and he stumbled in and collapsed to the floor. _“Subject Four, Subject Twelve please step out.”_

Swallowing, she stepping into the larger room and didn’t look behind as she heard the glass wall close behind her. Time to see what they had in store for her. Said also joined her, looking somewhat apprehensive. Given that they were both out, Annette had an uncomfortable feeling about where this was going.

“Don’t worry about me,” Said told her, not looking down. “Whatever they do, just play along. And don’t hold back, they’ll know if you do.”

Before she could ask what that meant a burst of static interrupted her. _“Subjects Four and Twelve, you are to fight psionically until only one is standing.”_

Damn it.

She began to retort that, no, she wasn’t going to do that. But then Said’s words made sense. _Just play along._ Alright, sure. Play along, for now. She wasn’t going to kill him, no matter what they ordered her to do, but she could put up a show for them.

His thought stream was fairly unique and she was able to pick it up quickly again. _You sure you think this is best?_ He walked over to the far corner, to buy more time as he formulated a response.

 _Think of it as a training exercise._ He thought back at her. _And you’ll have to try very hard to actually hurt me._

She still wasn’t happy about this, but as a training exercise…if this did help her, and him for that matter, it might actually be a benefit. She fixed him with a stare. She sincerely hoped that he was as confident in his abilities, otherwise she might accidentally kill him on her first try.

But at the very least, she had a good pool of emotion to draw upon. Hate. For this situation, at EXALT, at these people who kept toying with them, pitting them against each other for their amusement. She focused on the feeling, feeding it until it reached a point where she could hold it in no longer.

She took a firm stance and let loose the power contained. Immediately her vision was tinted purple as bands of energy ran up and down the length of her arm; the familiar pain of her skin tearing and melting only feeding into the loop. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window and realized just how consumed by the power she looked. It was if she was encased in a swirling armor of energy.

Said’s manifestation of power was far more subtle. All that appeared different was that his eyes turned to a glowing purple like hers. Albeit far less intense. He’d better be ready, cause she wasn’t waiting any longer. She gathered a purple ball of energy in her hand in thrust it toward him. Instantly he raised a hand and a shimmering purple field appeared in front of him, absorbing the ball of energy.

The field vanished instantly after and he gave her a small smile. So, psionics could also protect as well as attack. His confidence made much more sense now. Glaring at him, she circled around as she gathered energy for a push. He simply watched as waited, never breaking eye contact.

She quickly planted her foot in front of her and thrust out both hands, sending a purple-tinged shockwave of energy his way. Said quickly raised his hands and a shimmering field materialized, but the sheer force of the shockwave forced him several steps back.

Annette didn’t relent. She threw more bursts of energy his way. He managed to block them, but was losing his calm demeanor. She got an idea; why did the power always have to converge around her? Could it manifest elsewhere?

She raised her right hand and directed the energy towards forming a psionic ball of energy over him. It materialized and she brought her hand down and the ball followed suit, slamming into the ground and emitting a massive shockwave which threw him into the glass.

She winced. It’d worked a little too well. He didn’t appear pleased with that as she advanced on him, looking to win this to get it over with. He raised both hands in her direction, energy rippling around his wrists, and she gathered power of her own until she just…stopped. She couldn’t move.

Said still had his hands extended towards her, his hands encased in transparent gloves of energy. He must have frozen her somehow. And from the looks of things, he could keep this up indefinitely. But there was one advantage she had. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on his thought stream. Once she found it, she hesitated and then focused everything she had into one, single word.

_STOP_

It wasn’t even a command. Just a word backed by strong emotion. A distraction, nothing more. But it worked and he winced, giving her the opportunity to break free. A shockwave burst from her, shattering the shield holding her like glass. Without wasting an instant, she thrust her arms forward at him, unleashing a continuous stream of psionic energy and gas.

He raised his hands and a field appeared in front of him, absorbing and deflecting the worst of it. Annette didn’t care and kept walking, more energy pouring out of her. The stream of power forced him to the ground, beads of sweat fell down his face as she slowly overwhelmed him.

The shield flickered once, then collapsed and the energy hit him and threw his back against the glass that he hit with a crunch. She immediately ceased the stream when she realized what she’d done. Was he- no, he was fine. He was trying to get up, and as she approached, he raised a hand.

“You win,” he told her, slumping to the ground, panting heavily. She took a deep breath and let all the power within her fade until her vision was normal again.

“Oh, no-“ she swayed as a wave of exhaustion, hunger and thirst swept over her and she collapsed to the ground. Without the power to keep her sustained, she had nothing else left. She’d overexerted herself again, hopefully it wouldn’t kill her. But then again, this time they might decide it would be better to let her die.

With that, she blacked out, the last thing she saw were the bright lights of the ceiling.

***

_The Citadel, Herman’s Room_

Time for an official update to the Council. He’d been here long enough to give some general impressions and to give them updates on some of the projects taking place here. Ultimately, he’d decided to speak with Tamara as he felt she’d take a more level-headed approach to stuff like the virus and the necessity of an Intelligence branch.

He set up his laptop and waited for it to connect as he sent out the call. Everything was in full swing following the defeat. The Commander was conducting a massive operation to find EXALT and seemed to be heavily working with Van Doorn and Bradford to find them. The impressions he’d gotten from the soldiers were almost universal. They were angry and they wanted revenge.

An understandable reaction, and as long as they were pointed _only_ in the direction of the aliens and EXALT, then he was fine with it. Hopefully the Commander would be targeted in his reprisal; knowing him, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack if EXALT ended up being in the middle of a city or something.

The screen flashed and the face of Tamara appeared. Her face brightened as she saw him. _“Ah, Herman. Good to see you!”_

He nodded. “You as well, Councilor. I figured it was past due for an update.”

 _“I agree,”_ she nodded, growing more serious. _“But I’m glad you choose to report to me. The last thing we need is things blown out of proportion.”_

“Agreed,” Herman answered. They began with what he’d seen of the entire XCOM operation and that, for the moment, nothing seemed illegal or out of place. He didn’t spend too long on that subject since there were far more important ones. He then told her about the EXALT encounter and subsequent defeat.

“Have you ever heard of this organization before?” Herman asked after he had finished describing the issue.

She pursed her lips. _“Yes, of course. And unlike many, I do think that they do exist in some form. But not nearly on such a scale as you describe.”_

“Well, I would request anything you have on them,” Herman said. “Whoever they actually are, they’re acting against XCOM and pose a legitimate threat. Both I and the Commander would prefer to remove them as soon as possible.”

 _“I couldn’t agree more,”_ Tamara answered. _“Though the Council might not have much on them. It is largely considered a conspiracy theory.”_

“Maybe telling the Council that XCOM suspects EXALT is working with the aliens might incentivize them,” Herman suggested. “Or would that not matter?”

 _“Unnecessary,”_ Tamara shook her head. _“The Council wants the aliens gone and sees XCOM as the best chance for that. The split is over the Commander, not the organization itself. We protect our investments.”_

Hmm. Time to see how well that held up with his next request. “I’m glad you think so,” he said smoothly. “Now, I do have something that I would like the Council to seriously consider authorizing.”

Tamara cocked her head, but otherwise her expression remained neutral. _“Go ahead.”_

He took a breath. “Regardless of what EXALT actually is, it’s apparent that they primarily act through subterfuge and secrecy. Both areas in which XCOM is currently ill-equipped to handle. The Commander has reportedly run some covert operations on the side, but does not have access to a legitimate intelligence branch.”

 _“You want an Intelligence division?”_ She asked, actually sounding surprised.

“Not exactly,” Herman clarified. “Only authorization to create an Intelligence branch. The Commander would be more than happy to put one together. If it matters, I personally think this needs to be done if we want EXALT to be removed quicker. Not to mention some of the dangers of the Commander doing this part time might be increased stress and reduced efficiency. Most of all, if he’s stretched too thin, he’ll make mistakes and people will die. Something that benefits no one.”

Tamara leaned back in her chair, looking somewhat conflicted. _“I can tell you right now that this isn’t going to go over well with some people. The last thing they want is to give him more power and giving him command of an intelligence branch is probably high on their list of greatest fears,”_ she sighed. _“Look, I agree of the necessity, but realistically, the Council won’t approve it, no matter how hard I push”_

“But would my recommendation be enough?” Herman asked. “To be fair, Councilor, I do have a better grasp of the situation than anyone on the Council.”

 _“That’s not how this works,”_ Tamara growled, though it didn’t seem to be directed at him. _“They don’t care about that. They only want to know about stuff if it reinforces their position and gives them a reason to dismiss the Commander. That’s the only reason they want you there; not to help XCOM and certainly not to help the Commander.”_

Herman pinched the bridge of his nose. “So essentially, anything I say is essentially pointless unless it fits one agenda or another?”

 _“Pretty much,”_ Tamara agreed grimly, not even bothering to exclude herself from the implication. _“And nothing gets done anyway because all the sides do everything they can to block and impede each other. Which is why your first focus shouldn’t be on enforcing rules, it should be actually helping the Commander win the war.”_

“It might be a better use of time,” Herman agreed. “But I’m not going to forget the reasons I was asked here in the first place, regardless if you think they’re unnecessary or not.”

 _“Fair enough,”_ she nodded. _“Well, anything else?”_

Ah, right. “XCOM is developing a biological weapon to use against the aliens,” Herman explained carefully. “It targets the alien known as the sectoids. If used correctly, it could effectively wipe out the entire species.”

Tamara’s eyes widened. _“The entire species? If a virus like that gets out of control-“_

“XCOM’s chief scientist has assured me it will not,” Herman clarified. “Take that for what you will. But what gives her some credibility is that the sectoids are all genetic clones and she’s made the virus target the sectoids on a genetic level. That supposedly will make the virus harmless to anything else.”

 _“I see,”_ she nodded, the corner of her lip curling up. _“Interesting. It seems Vahlen’s abilities were not exaggerated, and she would be one to come up with such a thing. How does it work?”_

“I’m not sure how the Commander is planning to deploy it,” Herman answered. “But once he does, there will be an incubation period of a few weeks to spread the virus as much as possible. Then once it does, it will slowly….decompose them, for lack of a better word. Vahlen told be that it would effectively reduce them to mush.”

 _“Painful, but effective,”_ Tamara nodded, not appearing to be disconcerted. _“How long will it take to actually kill them?”_

“At the moment, a week or two,” Herman answered. “The Commander and Vahlen both seem to believe that the process will terrify and demoralize the aliens. I’ve convinced the Commander to speed up the rate of mortality after the first deployment.”

 _“Yes, that sounds like him,”_ Tamara commented, almost amused. _“Him and his terror tactics. But if it kills the aliens, I have no issue with it.”_

Herman was tempted to drop it, but did have to ask. “And the rest of the Council?”

 _“I think it would be best if this particular development was kept under wraps,”_ she suggested neutrally. _“Ennor would pitch a fit for obvious reasons and several others who are as not as knowledgeable or mistrustful of the sciences would misguidedly believe that this virus might pose a risk to us. Revealing this to the Council at large would only cause more problems.”_

That seemed to be the case with the Council. No matter what happened there would always be more problems. Well, he’d done his duty and reported to the Council. What they did with it was not his concern, even if it was kind of a cop-out for him. But he had no desire to get any more involved in Council politics than he already was.

“That is all I have to report at this time,” he told her.

She inclined her head. _“You’ve done well. Keep it up and we’ll win this war. I’ll take your suggestion to the rest of the Council, but I would not hold out hope.”_

“Understood, Councilor,” he responded wearily. “A good day to you.”

 _“You as well.”_ With that she cut the feed. Herman sighed and closed the laptop. And thus, he was in a situation where he was effectively useless, exactly what he _didn’t_ want. He essentially had two options, work with Ennor who had a misguided personal vendetta against the Commander and Tamara who would likely overlook _everything_ as long as it helped win the war.

Neither extreme was particularly appealing to him, but at the moment, Tamara was the one who would cause the least damage. It seemed that his best chance of influencing anything while still keeping the organization intact was trying to reason with the Commander and temper his more _radical_ ideas. At least the Commander _was_ open to discussion, he just had to be very careful how he approached him.

Well, he might as well get good at it.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

“He usually doesn’t call us up,” Patricia commented as she geared up. “What do you think’s different?”

Creed shrugged as placed the breastplate over his chest. “Don’t know. But I’d guess it has something to do with this EXALT group. A major reprisal seems fitting.”

She hoped it was, for his sake. Even if he hadn’t shown it, Patricia was able to feel just how defeated and guilty he felt over the defeat. She’d known to back off for a couple days and let him figure it out on his own. Now when she focused on him, he felt… _sharp_ , focused and determined.

As much as Patricia wanted to begin honing her abilities further, she knew doing so after that defeat was _not_ a good idea. Should this mission deal with EXALT _and_ they emerged victories, she would feel better about bringing it up. Though over the past few days she’d gotten much better at honing in on specific people. It was almost instinctual, she’d look at someone and her brain would catch up and she’d be able to get a sense of what they were feeling.

Although as a side effect, the headaches were worsening, though she could deal with that pretty easily. It was still annoying, but a few pills and she’d be good for a while. She didn’t want to become reliant on them, but for missions she’d made an exception. It wouldn’t do any good to be plagued by a headache during a firefight.

“Here, let me tighten that,” she walked over and tightened the straps on his breastplate until the armor was secured. “That good?”

“Seems solid,” he answered with a nod. “Let me check yours.” She turned around and let him fiddle with the straps on her own armor. “All set.” He finished, stepping back and grabbing his gauntlets.

She rolled her shoulders, testing the tightness. Satisfied, she nodded at him and pulled on her own gauntlets until they were smug. Every part of her armor on, minus the helmet, she went over to the weapons locker and pulled out her autolaser and secured it to the back of her armor. Grabbing her helmet, she turned to face Creed who had likewise slung his laser battle rifle over his shoulder and had his helmet tucked under his arm.

“Let’s go,” he said, motioning to the door. Taking the lead, she walked out with him to her right. They stepped into the elevator and Creed thumbed the button to the floor where the Commander was located.

“I haven’t forgotten, you know,” Creed said after a minute of silence. “Don’t think I have.”

She glanced over at him, not following. “Sorry?”

He motioned at her. “Helping with your…abilities. I’m pretty sure you wanted to get started before now.”

He was actually feeling _guilty_ about this, she realized as she focused on him again. Which in turn made _her_ feel bad. “Hey,” she turned to him sternly. “Don’t you feel bad about that at all. I knew it was better to leave you alone for a few days. Please don’t feel guilty about it otherwise it’ll just make me feel like a terrible person.”

He cracked a smile. “Are you doing it now?”

She scowled. “Yes.”

“Sorry, can’t help it,” he shrugged. “I don’t like not following through.”

Patricia gave a loud sigh. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Would you want me to feel guilty if the roles were reversed?”

“Good point,” he answered as the elevator came to a stop. “We’ll discuss this after the mission ends, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed, and they stepped off the elevator together. It was only a short distance to the Commander’s office and they arrived a few minutes later. The door slid open automatically and they both walked inside.

She immediately recognized Carmelita and Marten who both nodded in their direction. Carmelita was toying with one of her blades, twirling the weapon in her fingers absentmindedly, while Marten was just leaning against the wall. It appeared the Commander hadn’t arrived yet.

The last man was one she hadn’t met before. A rather lithe man, he was just taller than her and had an oddly scarred face. He was Israeli, judging from the flag on the collar of his armor and he definitely looked it. His brown skin was darker than normal, at least compared to Galia and his black hair was neatly trimmed back. A crisscross of scars ran down the right side of his face, probably knife wounds. She wondered if Carmelita had noticed.

He also had one of the laser sniper rifles attached to his armor. Interesting. She’d noticed that snipers were somewhat lacking and that had no doubt been a reason why he’d been recruited. She wondered what unit he was from. He turned to her as she walked up. “I don’t think we’ve met. Patricia Trask,” She extended a hand.

He inclined his head towards her as he took her hand and gave one firm shake. “Mordecai Korhn, Israeli Unit 669 sniper.”

Well then. Definitely a professional. Unit 669 was considered one of the best special forces units in the world. They were an interesting unit because a large part were medics and surgeons, and every single one were proficient paratroopers, divers and climbers. As far as she knew, they were primarily hostage rescue and counter-terrorism, though mostly the former since terrorism was widely down these days.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she answered. “The stories I’ve heard of your Unit are impressive.”

He gave a faint grin. “The tip of the iceberg, Mrs. Trask. I can assure you I have far more interesting ones. Though I have certainly heard a lot about you. I’m curious to see if you live up to the stories about you.”

She did a double take at that. About _her_? “What stories?” She demanded.

He actually felt _amused_. “A poor choice of words, perhaps,” he amended quickly. “But anyone who is mentioned with as much respect and trust as you is certainly worth keeping an eye on.”

She hadn’t had a clue that was even something that was going on. Sure, she tried to be as good a leader to her subordinates as possible, but hadn’t really expected much in return. She didn’t consider it anything special. If anything, she was only doing the bare minimum. Still, it felt good to hear, and since she didn’t feel any falsity within Mordecai, she assumed he was telling the truth.

She was about to say something else when an unexpected coldness hit her. She involuntarily tensed and goosebumps rose on her skin. This was far stronger than anything she’d felt before. It was icy fury and determination, no less intense than unbridled rage. If anything, more frightening.

“Apologies for keeping you,” the Commander greeted, walking out into the room, tightening his own gauntlet. To her surprise, she realized he was wearing his armor as well, the dull silver paint distinct from the rest of their colored and cameoed armor. Was he coming on this mission?

All of them immediately snapped to attention as he walked in front of them. He frowned at set his helmet down on the desk. “At ease. For once, we don’t have a strict timetable here and since this mission will be slightly different, I felt it would be better to give the briefing here than on the skyranger.”

Patricia relaxed and waited for him to continue. As he adjusted his gauntlet, Carmelita spoke up. “Will you be accompanying us on the mission, Commander?”

“No,” the Commander responded dryly, the biting sarcasm bringing a grin to her lips. “I just decided to get suited up for the hell of it,” he gave a dramatic sigh. _“Yes_ , I’m going to be coming. Far past time, I feel.”

Patricia couldn’t help but feel a little worried at that. On one hand, it struck her an incredibly noble of him to come along and share in the risk. But on the other, if something happened…No, surely he had to know that. Besides, he’d accompanied them into battle before, albeit with the odds somewhat in their favor.

She considered speaking up about it, but the Commander had probably heard the exact same arguments from his Inner Circle and wouldn’t want to hear them again from her, or anyone else. Well, she immediately felt a little better knowing he was coming. Hopefully this went as well as last time.

Everyone else seemed to get the same idea and no one questioned him coming along. The Commander finished adjusting his armor and once he was done, stood in front of them, arms clasped behind his back. “XCOM Intelligence has located what we believe to be an EXALT facility of some kind. What exactly that entails, we don’t know for sure. That is what we’ll be finding out today.”

“Where?” Creed asked.

“An isolated location in the Russian wilderness,” the Commander answered, beginning to pace in front of them. “If I had to guess what’s stored there, I’d think weapons. We recently finished conducting an operation where EXALT was using a farming company as a way to smuggle weapons into the country. They loaded them onto trucks and left. We tracked those trucks to the location we’re assaulting today and cross-referencing with some files we recovered, are certain that EXALT is using the facility for something.”

“What sort of defenses should we expect?” Patricia asked. “Do they know we’re coming?”

The Commander pursed his lips. “They do not know we’re coming, no. At least that’s what XCOM Intelligence believes. But expect them to be on high alert. That shell company they were operating out of was recently taken over by Russian forces. They’re likely to be on edge, even if they’re not expecting us.”

He shook his head. “But to answer your original question, we don’t know for sure. Our agents on the ground report at least ten soldiers. They aren’t as heavily armored as the soldiers encountered in Mexico, but they are assumed to be at least as skilled. There is no sign of any automated defenses or gunning stations. We have no intel on the inside of the facility.”

“So how are we going to execute this,” Mordecai asked, cocking his head at the Commander. “Frontal assault or as silent as possible?”

“This is not an intel retrieval mission,” the Commander emphasized harshly, though it wasn’t directed at Mordecai. “If we get something from their computers, excellent. But this is first and foremost a response to EXALT for the soldiers we lost. I would prefer we take some prisoners, but I want this to be a message and warning to EXALT.”

She felt a burst of approval from Creed and the feeling was also present in the other soldiers as well. “Besides,” the Commander added, a trace of humor in his voice. “I think it will be difficult to have an infiltration with Myra present.”

Patricia cocked her head and appraised the Commander, surprised. Myra? She’d had expected her to be discharged and gone. Sure, the when she’d visited she’d seemed to be doing alright, but to recover so quickly _and_ be ready for combat?

Carmelita apparently had the same idea. “Myra’s still active? _And_ recovered?”

“In a manner or speaking, yes,” the Commander nodded. “But she isn’t the same woman you knew. Not physically at any rate, probably not mentally as well. We’re still observing the side effects.”

“Of what?” Marten asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Myra volunteered for an experimental program,” the Commander answered. “It allowed her to remain with XCOM but not without a price.” He grabbed his helmet. “Come. It’ll be easier to show you and I’ve said all that I need to about the assault. Follow me.”

With that he walked out of his office towards the hanger, the rest of the soldiers following behind.

***

_The Citadel, Hanger_

The first thing she noticed was oddly enough, _not_ the giant robotic suit standing by the skyranger. No, it was the aircraft also parked by the skyranger. It was clearly inspired by the familiar aircraft, but it was as if someone had cut out the back two-thirds of the aircraft and just put some sheets of metal over the sides. She could see odd hooks and gears inside, so it must be for transporting something mechanical. If it was being used at all.

“Wow,” Creed muttered, surprise and awe in his voice. “What is that?”

“Some kind of transport, perhaps?” She guessed. “I don’t know what-“

“No, Patricia,” Creed interrupted. “Not that _plane_. Look at the giant mechanical suit.”

Patricia immediately became conscious of the massive suit and wondered how she could have missed it. It was massive, first of all, it had to be at least ten or twelve feet with equally proportioned arms and legs. The chest was open, though it didn’t look like any pilot was supposed to fit into there without becoming seriously hurt.

There were some kind of tanks attached to the back, along with the largest laser weapon she’d ever seen. It was a least as large as Creed and probably heavier, it also looked like a larger version of her autolaser. Attachments with nozzles and barrels were on the arms, adding some bulk to the already large machine. More guns? Missiles?

“This is a MEC,” the Commander said, stopping in front of the machine. “XCOM Engineering’s most advanced experimental warfare project. Mobile, armored and lethal. Simulations place it as a piece of machinery without equal. Today will be the first field test.”

“Is it automated?” Marten asked, eyeing the machine. “It seems rather robotic.”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “No artificial intelligence exists that would be competent in a battlefield scenario. Furthermore, I wouldn’t trust it if it were. A computer will not be able to respond to the stresses and ever-changing landscape of a battle. The MECs have human pilots.”

“How?” Patricia asked, inclining her head at the open chest area. “I don’t see how they could fit into that. Let alone control it as well as you say.”

“They can’t,” a voice answered from a figure that walked toward them from behind the MEC. The voice sounded familiar, but there was an electronic tinge to it, slightly artificial. But it only took her a second to realize the woman walking towards them.

“Myra?” Creed asked, eyes widening. Patricia echoed the shock and surprise he felt.

Myra’s limbs had been replaced by skeletal prosthetics, the limbs angular and hinge-like. They were oddly thin and the only complexity seemed to be on the hands which looked robust and normal. But in general, the prosthetics looked…basic.

It wasn’t the only thing that had changed about her. Her chest seemed covered in a sheet of metal, though that might just be armor of some kind, but it gave the illusion that the only human part of her was the head. And even that seemed different. There were some kind of implants above her eyes and neck.

But when Patricia looked into her eyes she saw…nothing. Just plain detachment and apathy. It was disconcerting to her. There should be _something_. She tried to get a sense of what she was feeling and came away with…nothing. Again. Myra was there…but not much more. It didn’t even feel intentional, just…Myra wasn’t feeling anything.

“What happened to you?” Patricia asked.

Myra gave her a smile, but it didn’t look like a genuine one. “I volunteered. They told me what was required and I agreed to it. I’m doing fine, Patricia, no need to worry.”

Maybe physically, but something seemed off about her. She seemed too…calm about this. And she said those words with the same odd detachment, not helped by the robotic tint to her voice.

“Is that…necessary?” Mordecai asked, eyeing Myra warily. “Amputating all the limbs?”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. “They are required for Myra to properly sync with the suit. A suit without direct neural interfacing would be slow, cumbersome and ultimately little more than a massive target. It’s an enormous sacrifice, but a necessary one for the MEC program.”

Well, at least the Commander made sure Myra wanted to do it before cutting her limbs off. And Myra had done what probably all of them would do, which was agree. She certainly would have, even knowing the possible outcomes so she really couldn’t fault her for that. They’d have to talk later.

“Have you…tested it?” Carmelita asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Myra’s tone almost turned wistful with longing, and Patricia actually felt a twinge of… _something_ from her. That alone gave her some hope Myra wasn’t all gone. “It’s an amazing feeling. EXALT will be unable to stop me.”

“Suit up,” the Commander ordered and waved the rest of them to following him into the skyranger. “We’re heading out now.”

As they followed, Patricia took a glance behind her and saw Myra getting into the MEC. Various clamps and sockets attached themselves to her arms and legs and Patricia was fairly certain she saw several rods go into her neck and head as well. With a hiss, the MEC suit closed the chest piece and a helmet came together around her head.

Unfortunately, that was the last thing she saw as they boarded the skyranger. She hoped that the MEC was as powerful as the Commander promised. Guess she’d find out soon. Once they strapped in, the skyranger lifted off and took them to enact the first of hopefully many strikes against EXALT.

***

_Russia, EXALT Facility_

The skyranger set down in an open field that seemingly didn’t have any civilization nearby. At least that’s what Patricia thought when the Commander gave the order to deploy. The wind whipped the tall grass around her legs and the trees in the distance groaned and rustled.

The starry night was beautiful and reminded her how much she missed being outside. The Citadel wasn’t a bad place to live, but being underground all the time did deny her some things that everyone else experienced every day. It didn’t even cross her mind that much, until times like now.

 _“We’ll be initiating Eagle Protocol,”_ Fallen Sky said in their earpieces. _“Good luck, Commander.”_ With a blast of air, the skyranger took off behind them and flew off into the sky. The Commander, wielding his sniper rifle took a quick look at the wood above.

“Gray Sky, you almost here?” The Commander asked as he glanced up at the sky, talking to the new pilot who was piloting the MEC transport.

 _“Almost here, don’t worry,”_ he replied. _“Approaching drop point now.”_

A few seconds later, the transport came hovering over, settling just a bit above them. Patricia heard several clicks and the MEC dropped from the transport and hit the ground with a thud. Myra didn’t seem affected and began walking over to them, the movement much smoother than she was expecting.

It wasn’t quiet though, and squeaked and clanked from all the pieces and mechanics working together. Myra reached back and detached her laser weapon from her back and held it in her mechanized hands with surprising familiarity.

 _“Ready to go, Commander,”_ Myra said, he voice sounding even more monotone when the helmet synthesized her voice even more.

He nodded and began walking towards the trees. “We’re to meet up with the agents in here. The hill overlooks the facility and might allow us to ambush them." All of them nodded and followed the Commander into the forest.

The streaks of moonlight that managed to get through the trees gave a foreboding aura to the forest that Patricia was not completely immune to. Anyone looking in would likely be terrified at the sight of a squad of armored soldiers walking through the trees with very little sound.

And it really wasn’t that hard. There weren’t many leaves or brush to accidentally step on and give themselves away. Even Myra was navigating very well and twisting herself to get through some of the tighter spaces. Patricia was beginning to see the point about Myra being “linked” to the suit. She was moving as if it was her actually body; demonstrating a finesse that would be impossible if it were just controlled with crude exoskeletons or manual controls.

The Commander raised a fist and they all froze. Creed fell to one knee and raised his battle rifle while she stood above him, her autolaser at the ready. Marten and Mordecai had also fallen to one knee, their weapons also raised. Carmelita stood by the commander and simply raised her laser shotgun into the distance.

The Commander didn’t appear concerned, though he didn’t tell them to relax. Patricia took an opportunity to close her eyes and get a sense of the area. The majority were a mix of anticipation and eagerness for _something_ to happen in contract to the Commander who felt just as cold and patient as before.

Not just that…she frowned and focused further. Waiting. He was _waiting_ for something, or more likely, someone. Several figures in front of them appeared, snapping Patricia back to reality.

“At ease,” the Commander said quietly. “They’re friendly.”

All of them relaxed and Creed got to his feet and eyed the new arrivals warily. The one woman she hadn’t seen before. She looked middle-eastern, probably one of Zhang’s Kidon agents. But the other woman she recognized right away.

“Abby?” She asked, not expecting to see her _here_ of all places. Though it did make sense; she was in XCOM Intelligence now. She looked much different, wearing black special forces-esque attire, some blast padding, pants, gloves and binoculars hung around her neck. She did kind of stand out though, since her blonde hair was still vibrant and reflected the moonlight above.

“Patricia!” She exclaimed, smiling in response, looking surprised and happy to see her. She began walking forward when the woman beside her moved the back of her hand and lightly touched her chest, stopping her.

“Save the reunion for after,” she said. “We’ve got work to do.”

Abby shot her an apologetic look and refocused her attention on the Commander. But the woman did have a point. There would hopefully be time to catch up later. “We’re ready to move when you are, Commander.” The woman told him. “Follow me to the overlook.”

“Lead the way,” the Commander answered and they followed until Patricia spotted another figure who was lying on the ground looking through a sniper rifle. The woman stopped. “It’s a bit more exposed out here. Keep low.”

All of them fell to their knees and advanced crouching until the more or less all arrived at a sharp overlook of the facility. Though facility seemed like something of an exaggeration. The building itself wasn’t that big and appeared to be little more than a two-story warehouse, at least in height, with some shuttered windows and garage doors.

No, what was interesting were the defenses around it. The perimeter was just a chain fence, but from seeing some sparks jumping off it, Patricia supposed it was electrified. There only appeared to be one entrance that had a barricade set up in front. Within the fence itself were multiple barricades and cover stations, no doubt likely to be used in the case of an attack.

What made it work so well was that it was built in a completely empty field, so any attempt to attack the building would require running out into the open for a very long stretch. She wondered how the Commander was going to solve that problem.

The soldiers themselves were dressed more like security guards than actual soldiers, their uniforms seemed very ornate and professional instead of allowing protection. It honestly looked like they were wearing suits underneath some basic Kevlar. They all wore red bandannas around their faces, different from the orange ones of the other soldiers. Maybe it was a regional thing?

“Very exposed,” the Commander muttered aloud. “Clever.”

“They knew how to plan,” the woman agreed. “But I don’t think they’ll stay with a force like this. Especially with _her_ here.” She gestured at Myra. “I’d bet that they’ll focus their fire on her.”

 _“Let them try,”_ Myra muttered, her voice physically vibrating the air.

“Unfortunately, there is little choice other than a frontal assault,” the Commander said. “But there are ways to mitigate that. Kalonymous, Mordecai, let’s thin them out a bit.”

“With pleasure,” Mordecai answered and dropped to one knee and aimed his rifle down upon the building. The Commander was laying down beside the man with the sniper rifle Patricia guessed was Kalonymous. Both of whom also had their weapons trained on the facility.

“Targets lined up,” the Commander muttered. “Execute on my order.”

“Copy,” Mordecai answered as he adjusted his scope. “I’ve got his friend for a follow-up.”

“Same,” Kalonymous agreed. “I’ll remain here when you move in.”

“Understood,” the Commander nodded. “Myra, once they’re sufficiently frenzied, go in there. They’ll probably retreat into the building, giving the rest of us a chance to move in.”

 _“Understood, Commander,”_ Myra nodded, gears whirring as she took a stance preparing to charge.

“Patricia, lay down some covering fire after we shoot,” the Commander instructed. “See how many you can clip.” Patricia grinned and swung her weapon over the two snipers as she prepared to fire.

“Three…two…one…” The Commander lingered on the last word.

“Fire.”

Three beams of energy shot out and Patricia heard fair shouts of surprise in the distance and saw bodies fall to the floor. A second later they each shot again and several more bodies fell to the floor. As the rest of the EXALT soldiers started scattering, she let loose with her autolaser, spraying red bolts back and forth across the area.

“Now, Myra!” The Commander shouted and Myra charged off the overlook and towards the facility. Now in cover, the EXALT soldiers were beginning to fight back firing ballistic weapons at them. Patricia smirked, they might have had the advantage in Mexico, but this time XCOM controlled the battle.

The three snipers kept firing shots, red beams of light raining down on the area. “They’re in good cover now,” the Commander noted.  “Switch to the suppression method. Take zones and fire when they’re about to take a shot.”

“Left zone mine,” Mordecai called.

“Right is mine,” Kalonymous confirmed.

“Locking down the middle,” the Commander finished. “Patricia, take a forward position! They’ll be focused on Myra and we’ll do what we can.”

“Got it!” She confirmed and waved the rest of the squad to follow her. “Spread out and hold fire till we’re close!”

They all shouted in affirmation and they quickly charged down the field under the starry sky. They almost went completely unnoticed. What little fire that the snipers were not suppressing was directed at Myra who was being utterly merciless in her attacks. Patricia didn’t know the specs on that weapon, but it was melting steel crates like they were nothing and usually killing the soldier hiding behind.

There were sparks from bullets flying off of her armor, but they appeared to be scratches, nothing more. And Myra responded by targeting one specific target at seemingly the exclusion of all others and killing it with mechanical precision.

They were almost at the gate and there was still plenty of cover remaining. “Fire!” Patricia ordered, planting her feet and letting loose a burst of laser fire at a duo of EXALT soldiers hiding behind a barricade. The barrage missed one but slammed directly into the chest of the other, throwing her back onto the ground, a smoking hole in her chest.

“More coming in from the sides!” Marten yelled as he and Creed began laying down fire on the right side of the building. Patricia heard a scream and assumed they’d scored a hit on some of the soldiers. They had nothing to fear from the left as Myra was moving that way, the EXALT soldiers frantically running for cover without even trying to shoot.

“Oтступать! Отступать!” One of the soldiers yelled, the foreign language not enough to hide the fear in his voice.

That call was apparently to retreat, since the remaining EXALT soldiers dropped canisters that immediately emitted smoke disguising their position.

“ _Cease fire!”_ The Commander ordered. _“Let them box themselves in.”_

They all paused firing, not lowering their weapons, but taking time to reload and waiting for the smoke to clear. Patricia heard one of the garage doors close and something faintly like a lock click into place.

“Think they’re calling for help?” Creed asked, quickly glancing over at her.

“I doubt it,” she answered. “They probably think they have a better chance of surviving using choke points.”

He snorted. “This is going to turn into a kill zone for Myra.”

She smiled. “I don’t think they were expecting a twelve-foot robotic suit to attack them.”

“Move forward,” the Commander ordered, coming up behind her, now holding a laser rifle in his hand.

Patricia nodded and took slowly advanced to the garage door, taking a position on the right corner of it. Creed too the other side. The Commander looked around, appraising the area. “Marten, Carmelita. Secure the building. Make sure there’s no other exits.”

“Yes, Commander!” Carmelita nodded and she and Marten jogged off around the right side of the building. The Commander walked up and grabbed the handle and gave an experimental pull.

“Locked,” he muttered, sounding completely unsurprised. “You think you can get this open?” He asked, looking up at Myra.

 _“Eventually,”_ she answered, moving down to take a knee and she tapped the garage door.

 _“Commander, we’ve only located one other entrance,”_ Carmelita updated. _“It’s a locked door, but we can cut through it. Instructions?”_

“Cut the locks and prepare to move in on my order,” the Commander answered. “Myra, give them a scare. Then wipe them out. I think Shen gave you some tools for close combat.”

Patricia could swear Myra sounded amused. _“Acknowledged, Commander. This building will be their tomb.”_ Patricia shivered at that. Myra brought her metal fist back and slammed it into the garage door, seemingly shaking the entire building and leaving a sizable dent.

Curiously, Myra put her laser weapon onto her back again. Then slammed another fist into the garage. Patricia closed her eyes and focused on the area inside.

 _Four people set up behind the barricade. Ten more up above. Not enough. Not Enough. We can’t stop them. We’re going to di-_ She gasped as the stream of thought overwhelmed her with the sheer feeling of terror.

“Fifteen inside,” she warned in a rush. “They’re ready for you. But they’re terrified.”

The Commander glanced at her. “How do you know that?”

“Trust me!”

“Fine,” he nodded. “Myra, show them what you can do.”

 _“With pleasure,”_ Myra grabbed the garage door handle and pulled away, tearing the piece of metal and part of the structure along with it with a crack of stone and groaning and steel. With an indifferent callousness, she tossed it to the side and was immediately assaulted with hundreds of bullets flying her way.

The Commander had taken cover behind another barricade, but none of them were able to even peek out into the storm of lead and steel. Amazingly, the bullets just seemed to flow off Myra like water. Scratches were piling up on her armor, but it didn’t seem to be damaging her. The way she simply observed the soldiers who were firing at her was disconcerting for her and must be terrifying for them.

 _“Systems still operational,”_ Myra updated neutrally. _“Superficial damage only_.”

“Wait for it…” the Commander muttered.

The sounds of assault weapons slowly faded until they stopped as the soldiers realized that nothing was really happening. The attachments on Myra’s arms whirred and moved forward on her arms. Twin nozzles emerged from the metal boxes, revealing tubes that seemed to contain some liquid.

Myra looked around at the soldiers frantically reloading their weapons and raised her arms, a red light glowing from within the barrels.

_“My turn.”_

Cones of flame burst from her wrists, engulfing the soldiers closest to her who likely died instantly. The weapon fire immediately started up again, but now the soldiers were now running away as Myra moved within the open area. She was in no hurry, focusing on the soldiers who become disconnected from the main group.

Patricia winced as she watched Myra incinerate a soldier who was cowering behind several boxes. “Should we help her?”

“I don’t think she needs it,” the Commander answered dispassionately as he watched Myra charge a position held by three soldiers who were frantically firing at her. She simply raised her wrist and swept it across their cover, setting all of them on fire and leaving them writhing on the floor.

By now the fire was catching on the building, everything Myra went passed was charred or currently burning. By now EXALT realized they’d confined themselves in a death box and were dashing for the exits. Several reached the door and were promptly killed by Marten and Carmelita.

Myra was now surrounded by bodies, living and dead that were charred or still burning. The screams and smells of those still alive were haunting, but she didn’t feel the least bit remorseful or bad about watching them burn.

With fire burning around her, the surviving EXALT soldier crawling away in a vain attempt to escape, Myra looked over at the Commander. _“Hostiles eliminated.”_

“Come with me,” the Commander ordered and walked into the burning building, Creed and Patricia beside him. He pointed at a room at the far corner that was close to catching fire. “Creed, get any electronics out of there.”

“Yes, Commander,” he answered and dashed through the flames and bodies.

“Patricia, find a decent prisoner,” the Commander asked, turning to her. “I want one alive.”

Patricia walked over by Myra who was looked at one of the soldiers who was crawling away, leaving a trail of blood and soot behind. His leg was burned beyond repair and his arms were warped and scorched. He’d do. She knelt over him and wrapped her forearm around his neck and held him in a chokehold until he passed out.

With a grunt, she hoisted him over her shoulder. “Package secured,” she said, nodding at the Commander. He also nodded back and motioned for her and Creed to follow him outside.

 “Carmelita, Marten, converge in front,” he ordered as he turned back to Myra. “Burn this place to the ground **,** ” he growled, letting some of his fury live in his voice.

Myra nodded and cones of flame burst from her wrists as she began systematically burning the building down. The Commander, laser rifle in hand, turned around and walked away from the carnage and exited the building.

Once they were outside and reconvened with Marten and Carmelita, they all turned wordlessly toward the building that was slowly turning into an inferno. The Commander clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the fire consume everything inside; the hungry flames reflecting off his helmet’s visor.

Myra emerged from the growing inferno, her suit steaming from the heat. But there was nothing even remotely resembling concern in her voice. _“Objective completed, Commander.”_

“Well done,” the Commander answered, not looking up as he watched the flames. “We sent a message today. One that I think will be received loud and clear.”

“What happens if someone survives?” Marten asked. “I mean, we didn’t make sure all of them were dead, right?”

“Anyone who survives that will never pose a threat to us again,” the Commander answered firmly. “And they will tell the story of their defeat. Perhaps that will put some fear into them.”

They stood together for a while like that, watching the fire until the skyranger came to pick them up.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Vengeful Robot

_Note: Really Bradford? This was the best you could do? – The Commander_

_Personnel:_

Hornet 1 ( _Squad Overseer)_ : The Commander

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Hornet 2: Specialist Patricia Trask

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Hornet 3: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

            **Status:** Online

 **Kills:** 21

Hornet 4: Specialist Carmelita Alba

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Hornet 5: Specialist Anius Creed

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Hornet 6: Specialist Marten El-Amin

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Hornet 7: Specialist Mordecai Korhn

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Tristin Ward – Call sign: “Fallen Sky”

Pilot 2: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

_Artifacts Recovered:_

-1x EXALT Computer

-1x EXALT Captive

\- Assorted electronic equipment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. An Offer of Help

 

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

“Our unofficial alliance is growing, slowly but surely,” Bradford updated, clearly pleased as he and the Commander observed a holographic map of the world. All countries that had at least some kind of relationship with XCOM were highlighted faintly in green. Council nations were in yellow and areas in satellite coverage were marked with blue.

“Van Doorn came through on Turkey,” the Commander noted appreciatively. “You did as well on South America. Excellent job.”

Bradford inclined his head. “Thank you, Commander. They seemed eager to be taken seriously for once.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “We need to begin sending their allotment of alien tech.”

“I agree **.** ” Bradford waved his hand over to another analyst who rushed over.

“Yes, Central?” he asked eagerly.

“Begin allotting the tech for our new allies,” Bradford instructed, handing him a tablet. “Make it proportional, based on their input and size.”

“On it,” he nodded and rushed off to do his task.

“Are our systems secure?” The Commander asked, as he looked back at the holotable. “EXALT may retaliate in a less physical form after our victory.”

“I’ve done everything to ensure our systems are ready for another attack,” Ariel Jackson said as she walked up. “All we can really do at this point is sit and wait.”

“Let’s hope so,” the Commander answered grimly. “I don’t want to lose another batch of research.”

“Hey, no worries,” Ariel answered easily, flipping her hair with a smile. “I put some failsafes in the unlikely event they _do_ get through. Trust me, our research is secure.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“We should consider our next batch of allies,” Bradford suggested, motioning at the holotable. “The additional funding is useful, but won’t supplement the Council completely yet.”

“Have you considered the Scandinavian countries?” Ariel asked, as she bit her lower lip. “They’re a small power that many overlook.”

The Commander glanced over in mind surprise. “You’ve thought about this?”

“Yeah, I did when Bradford asked me to look into contacting the first batch,” Ariel answered with a shrug. “I thought it might be useful if I made some suggestions myself.”

“I’ll consider that,” the Commander promised her.

“Central, call coming in now!” One of the techs called out. “You’re going to want to come over.”

Bradford sighed. “I’ll be back,” he said and then walked over to where the tech was sitting.

The Commander watched him go. “Is that normal? It occurs to me I don’t spend much time here.”

“More or less,” Ariel answered lightly. “He gets called over for all sorts of stuff. Thing with us is that we have to take every possible hit in case it turns out to be aliens. Or EXALT, for that matter. Anyway, then Bradford has to come over to make the final decision and ultimately, send it to you to approve or deny.”

“It sounds stressful,” the Commander commented as he looked around the room with the analysts and techs tapping on their keyboards and looking at screens.

“Not as much as you might think,” Ariel amended as she leaned against the holotable, tucking her hands into her packets. “It’s a lot of staring at screens, which is mostly boring, frankly. But we have to because if we miss something, more people die. So I guess it is in that sense, but…well, we’re rather _detached_ from it all. We look for patterns and signals, but those really don’t convey just how _serious_ the whole event is.”

“Have you made any progress with the alien code?” The Commander asked. “You or Zhang?”

“A bit,” she answered, sighing in frustration. “I’ve never seen anything like that coding before. I’m almost convinced that there’s a more abstract piece we’re missing. Maybe it’s tied to psionics, and _that_ is a problem I haven’t even begun to think about how to solve.”

“We’ll crack it,” the Commander stated, trying to reassure her. “It’s only a matter of time.” He glanced over at some of the screens with various news world news stations on them. “Is something being monitored now?” He asked motioning to the screens. “I assume that’s work related.”

Ariel picked up her tablet and began tapping on it. “Yes and no, we mostly use it as background noise since we do most of our analysis from official statements. But it’s related. I assume then that Central hasn’t updated you about Germany?”

The Commander frowned and glanced over at Bradford, who was speaking urgently into his headset. “No. He hasn’t.”

“Not surprised,” she nodded. “It’s literally developed in the past few hours. Essentially, the dear acting Chancellor is heavily implying that ‘dissidents’ are soon going to cease to be a problem. Given that most of his ‘detractors’ are the press and political rivals, I think you can see some concerns with the wording.”

“I suppose the question is if he could actually do it,” the Commander muttered, walking over beside her to look at the headlines on the tablet. “You consider that to be a viable possibility?”

“He has control and the loyalty of the military and police,” Ariel answered, narrowing her eyes at the tablet. “The acting Chancellor is clever. He’s using the aliens as an excuse for every questionable measure he’s enacted since the attacks. Creating the insinuation that if you question him, you’re indirectly supporting the invasion. Not exactly the most conductive environment for a democracy.”

The Commander pursed his lips. This was one of the largest problems with regime change. Sometimes it led to dilemmas like this. It wasn’t inherently bad, in times like these **;** some freedoms might have to be curtailed, but such measures should only be taken against _actual_ dissidents. Saboteurs, enemy propagandists and petty terrorists were dissidents that could, and should be removed by any means necessary.

But jailing political or press opponents simply because of their views was the wrong way to go about removing them. There were better ways that _didn’t_ make you look like a power-hungry dictator. The Commander didn’t really think, at least what he knew of the man, that acting Chancellor Habicht was a power-hungry dictator. The more likely reason was that he was just sick of being questioned repeatedly by a large group of people.

Despite being in a high position militarily, Habicht had really only interacted with, and was questioned by a small circle of people at, or above him. The shock of having thousands of people openly dislike and question him might have pushed him to take the easiest solution possible, which also looked highly suspect.

“I hope he doesn’t think we’ll still support him if he keeps this up,” the Commander muttered, not directly at Ariel. “I’ll have to speak with him about his methods soon.”

“Preferably before he actually _acts_ on his insinuations,” Ariel added. “But we’re monitoring that situation. I might bring Zhang in on this as well.”

The Commander nodded. “That might not be a bad-“

“Commander, may I speak to you?” Bradford interrupted, striding up, tense as he’d ever seen him. His face was a mask of surprise, but why the Commander couldn’t guess at the moment.

“Yes,” the Commander answered. “What is it?”

“Not here,” Bradford shook his head. “Preferably somewhere private.” The Commander and Ariel exchanged a look. She just shrugged, clearly as confused as him. The Commander followed Bradford until they reached a small enclosed room. It was almost empty and seemed to be mostly used for storing stuff no one knew what to do with. Boxes, damaged chairs and papers were scattered around the room.

“What’s this about, Bradford?” The Commander asked as the flustered Central Officer locked the door. “Has the acting Chancellor already started arrest journalists?”

Bradford blinked. “What? Oh, Ariel told you about that?”

“Yeah, I might have to arrange a meeting soon,” the Commander confirmed.

“Arrange it later,” Bradford answered, shaking his head. “I just received a call from President Savvin.”

Well then. That was _not_ what he’d expected. “And just what did the Russian President want to discuss?” The Commander asked slowly, carefully.

“He wanted to meet with you,” Bradford answered. “That was it. Preferably as soon as possible.”

“And _why_ does he want to meet with me?” The Commander demanded, leaning against the wall.

“I don’t think it’s related to our operations in Russia,” Bradford quickly reassured him. “At least it didn’t seem that way. But if I had to guess…he might want to work directly with XCOM. Russia is one of the more reliable Council members. It makes sense that the President would feel similar.”

A Russian alliance. Combined with the other countries, that alone might help supplement any loss from China. Maybe. If that was _actually_ what the President wanted to discuss. Regardless, he needed to speak to him if for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity. Kirill Savvin did not meet without reason or with just anyone.

“Arrange the meeting,” he ordered Bradford. “Today if possible. But I need to know what he wants.”

“Today?” Bradford eyes widened at that. “Are you sure it’s not too-“

_“Today,_ Bradford,” the Commander repeated emphatically. “EXALT should be quiet for the next few days and I want to take advantage of the lull. I don’t want to put it off only to find out we can’t because things are too busy here.”

“Will do, Commander,” Bradford nodded. “You’ll be informed as soon as the meeting is arranged.”

“Excellent,” the Commander answered and unlocked and opened the door. Things had just gotten a lot more interesting. And potentially dangerous.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

The atmosphere following the routing of EXALT was jubilant. All the soldiers were in high spirits when the squad had returned and had spent most of the remaining night talking and laughing. Noticeably absent was Myra who had gone…somewhere. Patricia hadn’t figured out when, though she resolved to find her later.

She had taken the opportunity to catch up with Abby during the unofficial celebration. She was…different than when they parted and she left for XCOM Intelligence. Much more…focused? Reserved? Something to that effect, probably her mentor rubbing off of her.

That other woman, Ruth, she was the epitome of what people wanted from an agent. Charismatic, manipulative and ruthless. She’d seemed to have mastered the art of expression, especially since during the brief time they’d chatted, she’d put on a very friendly persona which Patricia would have completely bought, had she not decided to try to get a sense of the woman’s emotions.

What she’d sensed was nothing but stark coldness and apathy with some bits of curiosity. The emotions that one would have when observing a potential target or enemy. Completely at odds with the friendly woman she painted herself as. While Abby definitely seemed to respect and admire her, she’d let on that she was more or less aware that Ruth wasn’t exactly a perfect person.

Humph. She’d not wanted to cause trouble that time, but she felt like she had say something. Abby was an intelligent woman, but she could be a bit naïve sometimes. She was a good person, which sharply contrasted with the kind of woman Ruth seemed to be. Still, that could come later. Right now she had other objectives in mind.

Creed was sitting on one of the couches, reading something on a tablet. Everyone else was either sleeping or in their own corners chatting with each other in soft voices. He looked up and immediately set down his tablet as she approached. “You want to do this?”

“If you’re up to it?” She quickly amended. “If you need rest-“

“Nah, don’t worry,” he interrupted, raising a hand to cut her off. “I feel pretty good now, actually. There’s something soothing about watching a building filled with your enemies burning to the ground.”

“Myra certainly held nothing back,” Patricia agreed. “I wonder how the aliens will respond when she comes along.”

“Hopefully flee,” Creed said ironically as he stood. “But I don’t think _retreat_ is in their vocabulary. But Myra will have to be a bit more careful when she does get deployed again. Plasma is slightly more dangerous than bullets.”

“I’m sure both her and the Commander are aware of that,” Patricia said, looking around the barracks. They stood together is silence for a few minutes.

“So…how’s this going to work?” Creed finally asked. “We doing this here?”

Patricia shook her head and tried to think. It occurred to her that there weren’t many good places to go if they wanted some privacy. However…”You think the training area is empty?” She asked, glancing up at him.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Probably, since most of the soldiers are either passed out or sleeping. Lead the way.”

She did and they exited the room with no one seeming to notice or care. The hallways to the training area were mostly deserted as well, and the one or two people they passed didn’t really acknowledge them. The only other constant was the low hum of the generators that permeated throughout the Citadel. Though all of them were so used to it now that it barely registered anymore.

Fortunately, the training area was empty when they walked inside. All the equipment was in its proper place and the room seemed impeccably clean. She didn’t know it’d always been like this or if she was just hyper-noticing everything because she was nervous. She had almost no idea what this was going to be like, if it even worked in the first place. Well, it _did_ work, but whether she could control it or not.

“You never answered my question,” Creed said as he walked past the sparring floor. “How is this going to work? I think of something and you try to read my mind?”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Patricia answered slowly. “But I guess that’s as good a place to start as any.”

Creed visibly swallowed. “Right, let’s do this.” They both walked over to one of the tables and sat down opposite each other. Patricia laced her fingers together and set them on the table as she tried to relax.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous about this too,” she admitted, hoping that would make him a little less anxious. Even without focusing directly on him, she could sense it spiking. Maybe it was the reason for _her_ discomfort?

“That’s reassuring,” he joked lightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Well, I’m ready whenever you are.”

She took a breath and closed her eyes and directly focused on him; easy since he was the only one nearby. He seemed like the equivalent of a storm in a bottle, at least emotionally. Prodding just at the surface, he was _much_ more nervous about this than he let on, but was very careful in keeping it _contained_ and _controlled_.

She wondered…could she help with that? Moving a bit further into his walled maelstrom of emotion, she was immediately assaulted with images.

_A hail of gunfire over his head. Pinned down, not much time; not enough people. They’re going to get away. Screams as a man fell, his body riddled with bullets. Two coming his way. He raised his rifle and shot at them, feeling a brief surge of relief as both fell to the ground._

Patricia gasped as the scene abruptly changed. What was that?

_He gasped as he struggled for air, knowing that it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. A test, this was a test nothing more-nothing more. His head was slammed back into the water as he desperately held what little breath remained and tried not to thrash any more. Necessary, he couldn’t break, couldn’t-_

The scene abruptly shifted once again.

_He stood in front of a mirror, marveling at how different he looked without the uniform. His ravaged body hidden under the sleek black suit. This wasn’t worth the anxiety. He’d faced firefights and more trials than any reasonable person would be expected to. This was just a date, yes, if he could kill several men, why should he be nervous asking a woman out?_

Memories. Not just any memories, but those tied to the emotion he was feeling now. Anxiety, anticipation, some amount of fear. Were these playing in his mind now? Or were they just lurking under his subconscious, fueling it? Alright, she had some idea of what was going on and pulled out just beyond the swirling rush of images and feelings.

Now the big question: Could she do anything about it?

She mentally shrugged. Ok, the most obvious solution was to counteract them…somehow. So, what was the opposite of anxiety? Calm? Well, that would be a good starting point.

She went back into the swirl of Creed’s emotions. It was interesting, since there wasn’t as much visitation as she might have expected. It was just the sheer power of feeling that conjured up images of storms and walls. She felt a new memories appearing but instead she focused on one word.

_Calm_.

_Calm._

She just imagined and visualized everything soothing she could think of. Oceans. Rain. She inadvertently began adding her own experiences. Rubbing the belly of her dog while his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. Reading a book on a hammock as a light breeze washed over her. Paige laughing at her while she overanalyzed some stupid joke and then laughing with her.

She was not expecting the wave of sadness that rushed over her at that. How much different things had been. How different _she’d_ been from what she was now. But whatever she’d done seemed to be working. Creed was calming down within his fortress and things were smoothing out. Calming down…calming down.

Now there were a whole _new_ host of Creed’s memories that threatened to show themselves to her. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be comfortable with it and pulled out with as much speed as possible.

With a gasp she opened her eyes and leaned down on that table, feeling more drained that she had in…days. Her hands were clenched and she her body was tense throughout. Taking another breath she glanced up at Creed who looked just as drained as she did. His face was unnaturally pale, but at the same time seemed…fine.

“What did you do?” He asked, or more accurately, whispered by how quiet he was.

“Are you alright?” She asked, worried that she’d hurt him

He shook his head, seeming to break out of his tense trance. “Actually…I feel fine. Oddly fine…just…tired, if that makes sense.”

“I…guess it does.”

“It just….” He paused. “I just…started thinking of stuff I thought I’d buried a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “That…might have been me.”

“I wondered,” he answered neutrally. “You were tensing up several times.”

“Well, you were clearly anxious about all of this,” Patricia tried explaining. “I thought I might be able to help.”

“Well, I think you succeeded, at least in making me calmer” Creed said, taking a breath. “That’s…really odd. I didn’t notice anything until…stuff started coming back to me.”

“Sorry,” she apologized trying to convey her sincerity. “I didn’t mean-“

“No, it’s fine,” Creed interrupted. “I was just…surprised. It makes more sense when you explained it.”

She appraised him, pursing her lips. “You’re being really calm about this. I just altered how you feel.”

“Well, that might partially be your fault,” Creed answered with a small smile. “You did want me to be calmer, after all. Perhaps I’ll feel differently about this later. It’ll be an interesting thing to document later.”

“Right,” she answered in a small voice, not exactly sure how she felt about it.

“But I knew what I was getting into,” Creed continued. “I’ll be more prepared if you do it again. So, I guess you did figure something out today.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Patricia muttered. “We’ll see how useful it is.”

“Look at it this way,” Creed said, smirking. “After the war you’ll be an excellent psychiatrist.”

“Oh, God,” she muttered. “Please no.”

“Come on,” Creed said, helping her to her feet. “I think we both could use some sleep. Unless of course you want to try again.”

“Later,” she answered with a sigh. “I don’t think I have the energy at this time.”

“Fair enough,” Creed chuckled as they both walked out of the room.

***

_Russia, Moscow_

It had been such a long time since he’d actually been at the capital of Russia. The last time he’d come to kill a president, now he was coming to speak with one. He wondered if President Savvin harbored any hard feelings towards him, although considering that they’d requested a meeting and that he was directly responsible for the new president’s position, he’d be surprised if the President felt that way.

That, and the previous president had been a lying, manipulative, traitorous piece of scum that fully deserved the death he’d administered. And while the Duma had officially declared outrage, he’d gotten the impression that no one was really mourning the loss since he’d been sure to distribute the evidence to the press. And left some on the body, for the investigators.

It had been one of the more satisfying and successful missions he’d carried out. Time to see how the Russians treated him now. As expected, there was a small group of Russian soldiers waiting for him with a black limo behind them. They didn’t stand out _too_ much since the airstrip was filled with soldiers at their posts. At least no civilians would notice the skyranger that’d brought him here. The President at least had the foresight to know that a public meeting would cause trouble.

With the soldiers was a woman he was pretty sure he’d never seen before. Dressed in the black uniform of a CT agent, she looked impeccably professional. Making a good first impression, anyone who was a CT agent automatically gained some respect in his eyes. She appeared roughly his age, with cropped brown hair and an overall stern demeanor. He wondered who she was.

“Commander,” she greeted as the soldiers around her snapped to attention. She extended a hand which he took and gave a firm handshake. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he answered. “I will admit I wasn’t expecting this when I started the day.”

“We’ve been considering reaching out more directly for a while,” the woman explained. “Considering recent events, the President felt now was the best time.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘recent events,’ you mean…?”

She motioned to the limo door and one of the soldiers opened it for him. “That is a matter that the President would like to speak to you about personally.”

He inclined his head. “Very well,” he answered and stepped into the limo and took a seat. He’d actually never ridden in any of these before, and was somewhat surprised just how open it was. The woman also got in and took a seat beside him. He buckled up, then noticed the woman staring at him, amused as the limo started moving.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” she told him, resting her gloved hands on her lap.

“Just a habit,” the Commander answered. “I’ve never ridden in these before.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckled.

Her English was extremely good, very clear even with the distinct accent. “You’re a CT agent I see. May I ask your name?”

“I was, a while ago,” she answered, her lips curling up. “But the President felt my talents of diplomacy were best suited for this kind of work. I am Tamara Vasilisa.”

Ah, now _that_ name he knew. The names Ennor had provided all those months ago were actually becoming useful now. How interesting that _she_ was the one meeting him _and_ was apparently a CT agent. “I didn’t realize I was speaking to the Russian Councilor,” the Commander said. “Otherwise I would have greeted you properly.”

She didn’t appear overly surprised. “Your sources are knowledgeable, I see. I suppose I should not have expected otherwise.”

“I prefer keeping tabs on people,” the Commander leaned back. “Especially when they belong to an organization that seems divided on me at the moment. Very useful to know friends and enemies.”

“I certainly hope you would include me on the former,” Tamara said as she laced her fingers together. “I do my best to keep the more troublesome elements of the Council in check.”

“I do not consider Russia my enemy,” the Commander stated. “I don’t know exactly what happens within the Council, but I do know Russia has more or less been supportive of my leadership, for which I am thankful.”

“The President and I appreciate that,” Tamara answered, inclining her head. “We both understand that the aliens are the true threat.”

“A pity that’s such a controversial stand,” the Commander murmured. “I’m curious. How does Russia stand militarily in regards to the invasion?”

“On high alert,” Tamara answered. “United Russia holds the majority in the Duma and thus the President was able to officially declare war and begin increased production of military equipment.”

“Is he facing any opposition within the Duma?” The Commander asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“Very little, surprisingly,” Tamara answered. “The Liberal Democratic Party has fully approved the increased military spending and improvements, though they seem not to realize that we’re not planning on conquest, only defense for the moment. But their votes are useful. The Communist and Socialist parties are more or less split, not that we need them to pass, but their infighting will only weaken the parties and hopefully split them further. But for now, the votes cast our way are also useful. The public pressure is also a very useful leveraging tool in bringing those parties in line.”

“Good to hear,” the Commander nodded and they rode in silence for a few minutes, then turned his head forward as he felt the limo come to a stop. “I see we’ve arrived.”

“That we have,” Tamara agreed and opened the door and stepped out and the Commander followed suit. Well, well. They were at the Kremlin. The building was as impressive as the last time he’d been inside, and now that he was entering legally, he could admire the architecture and construction.

“Come with me,” Tamara motioned him towards the entrance and they both entered the Kremlin.

It was busy with lots of uniformed men and woman combing the area, performing various tasks. They did go through some checkpoints, but Tamara was able to get them through in seconds. “No guards for me?” he asked as they walked.

She snorted. “You are many things, Commander, but an idiot is not one of them. I trust you to not do anything stupid or go someplace you aren’t authorized.”

“Trusting,” he commented. “Especially considering the last time I was here.”

“True,” Tamara agreed. “But this time you’re here to talk with our President, no? _Not_ kill him.”

“If all goes well,” the Commander agreed and they continued walking a labyrinth of stairs, corridors, hallways and elevators until Tamara finally stopped in front of an ornate wooden door.

“And here we are,” Tamara paused, then wrapped her hand around the brass handle and opened the door and they both walked inside.

The floor was a polished brown wood, with expensive red and blue rugs at various places. A stone fireplace was at the far end with a small controlled fire inside. At the far end was a wall of bookshelves and in front of the bookshelves, a desk that he assumed was the President’s working area. Two flags flanked the chair, the Russian flag and the Russian military one as well.

Kirill Savvin, President of the Russian Federation, stood off in front of one the windows, holding a file in his hand. Dressed in a suit with a blue tie, and black pants, he looked surprisingly normal compared to Tamara and the Commander’s military garb. The President was an older man, around sixty and it showed in stern face and utterly cold hazel eyes. The sunlight reflected off his bald head as he turned to see the new arrivals.

Very slowly and deliberately, he set the file down and walked over to them. “Commander,” he greeted, extending a hand, his accent far more pronounced than Tamara’s. “I’m pleased you could meet so soon.”

“As am I, Mr. President,” the Commander answered, inclining his head. “I felt it best not to delay. It isn’t often this chance presents itself.”

“You and I both see little point in wasting time,” President Savvin commented. “Please sit down **.** ” He gestured to the twin couches in the middle of the room. “We have much to discuss.”

The Commander complied and sat down on one of the brown leather seats. The President sat opposite him and Tamara took a seat beside the Commander. Clasping his hands together, the Commander got right to the point. “Councilor Vasilisa has told me that this meeting was inspired by recent events, but she wanted you to explain exactly what those were.”

“You are aware of the organization known as EXALT, correct?” President Savvin asked, appraising the Commander. “We recently received intel that suggested they were using a Russian company as a front and as of this point, we’re working on recovering the data that was wiped. But I feel you already know some of this, since you’ve been conducting operations within my country for some time now.”

Hmm. Confirm or deny. The President wasn’t an idiot and would likely respect honesty. “We’ve been working to disrupt EXALT, yes.”

“As I suspected,” he nodded. “And judging from the remains of an unmarked facility we investigated, I’d say you’d succeeded.”

“You work fast,” the Commander complimented.

“I take the national security of my country very seriously,” President Savvin stated. “And whether EXALT is as widespread as the rumors would say, it doesn’t matter. I want them purged from my country. So, I must ask: Did you leak the information to me?”

“No,” the Commander answered. “We’re still going through it. We don’t know if they have people in place who might warn others and disrupt what was supposed to be a surprise operation. Simply put, we don’t know who in your government is trustworthy.”

“A reasonable precaution,” he nodded. “An issue I wish to solve as well. I have people I absolutely trust working on this, and I feel it would go better if XCOM and Russia pool their resources. We both want EXALT destroyed, I see no reason to work apart.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. President, but how can I trust you?” the Commander asked bluntly.

“Because I know your identity and could think of several ways to utilize this information, aside from that, the fact that you are still alive **,** ” he answered.

“Decent answers,” the Commander agreed. “Though you could simply be working to gain my trust. Learn more about XCOM.”

“Then I would suggest you use your best judgment then,” President Savvin suggested. “Do you really think I’m an EXALT operative?”

Hmm. No, not really. If that were true, his position would be compromised no matter what happened and he couldn’t imagine not using that information against him. Now, the President had his own agenda, but that he could deal with.

“No, I don’t,” he finally said. “And in the interest of ending EXALT, I can see what I can do to transfer some relevant information to the Kremlin.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” President Savvin nodded. “Now, this leads into a more…permanent topic **.** ” The President laced his fingers together. “The United Nations is weak and will fall sooner or later, be it to the aliens or infighting. The Council will likely suffer the same fate and that might leave XCOM in a difficult position financially. So I have an offer for you, Commander: An official alliance with Russia. We can provide you with funding, resources and the very best from our special forces and military. In return you provide us with some of the alien technology you’ve acquired for our own scientists to begin analyzing.”

He’d actually done it. The Commander had been wondering if the President was actually going to propose an alliance or simply talk about EXALT. While he was extremely pleased and flattered at the consideration, there was one major problem. He sighed. “I’m afraid I will have to decline, Mr. President,” he answered slowly. “But hear me out here. My position with the Council is tenuous enough, as Councilor Vasilisa has no doubt told you, and as Russia is a Council nation, favoritism would not be received well.”

He pursed his lips. “There is only one reason I’ve been able to keep much of the alien tech out of the hands of China, Australia and Mexico. Because I’ve refused to do so with _any_ Council Nation, regardless of their support. Should I open an alliance with Russia, it will open the door to others demanding resources and further refusals will only look selfish and slowly remove whatever goodwill remains.”

“I wondered if you might say that,” President Savvin answered slowly, a grim smile spreading across his face. “And it reflects well on you that you have the political wariness to not accept my offer as-is. I’d have to question your intelligence if that were the case. Fortunately, I have an alternate solution. Tamara?”

Tamara handed him a tablet showing a map of Russia and some bordering countries. “While you wouldn’t be able to open an alliance directly with us and keep technology out of the hands of the more troublesome council members, there is nothing saying that you couldn’t form and alliance with say…Ukraine. Your alliance with Israel and Germany is proof of this.”

The Commander felt a smile growing on his own lips as well as he saw where this was going. “Now that you mention it, Poland and Finland are also countries that might benefit from such as alliance.”

“And should the equipment going to them unfortunately end up on Russian soil-” Tamara began.

“You can stop with the doublespeak,” the Commander interrupted, amused. “You plan on using proxies. I know how this works. A rather clever tactic, I must say.”

“And one you can perform legally,” the President pointed out.

“Correct,” the Commander agreed. “Though I do wonder, how exactly will you handle the funds and alien tech transfers?”

“Leave that to us,” Tamara assured him. “Should you decided to open alliances with these countries, your funding will increase substantially.”

“And I’ll send a squad of CT agents to XCOM as well,” President Savvin promised. “You’ve seen how useful one was for you, six would provide a substantial boost to your forces.”

“More soldiers are always useful,” the Commander agreed. “I will have to confer with my own Council, of course. But if I were you, I’d be keeping an eye on the bordering countries.”

“We will be watching with great interest, Commander,” President Savvin nodded. “Know that Russia will support you, whatever you decided.”

The Commander stood. “I’ll count on it, Mr. President. Good day.”

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

What immediately struck Soran more than anything else after the victory was how everyone appeared to just be focusing on the fact that they’d utterly, and ruthlessly executed that EXALT facility and apparently forgetting that it had been mostly due to a massive mechanical…suit? Exoskeleton?

He really wasn’t sure what the right description was. The suit itself was called a MEC, so he figured he might as well use that, since _robot_ was clearly incorrect. He would have liked to have taken some retribution on EXALT himself, but had understood why the Commander had chosen the most veteran soldiers for the op.

That being said, the footage from the armor cams was…enlightening. For a number of reasons. Instead of celebrating, he’d spent the last few hours just watching the MEC, which was actually piloted by Myra, utterly destroy the EXALT soldiers. He’d only seen displays of power like that a handful times in his life, and none of them _quite_ like this.

This MEC had to have been in production for some time, and since there hadn’t been any malfunctions and Myra seemed to be very much alive, albeit significantly altered, it seemed there’s been some testing beforehand as well. Which begged the question: How long and by what means?

He could see why it would be kept under wraps, especially since the extensive prosthetics and amputations would be controversial for a number or reasons, but also because the only way to ensure the participants safety was to actually test it on human subjects. The Commander wouldn’t risk his soldiers on an experimental program that would result in death, so he had to be finding other means.

He supposed it didn’t matter in the long run. And there was a very high chance no one other than himself would really wonder how the MECs had been made in the first place. As long as they worked and killed aliens, that’s really all most of the soldiers and personnel would care about.

Still, it did make him wonder.

He was very curious to speak with Myra herself, however. Even if she didn’t know _everything_ she would likely be able to at least tell him what it was like. He shut down his laptop and placed it under his bunk. If nothing else, he wanted to at least take a look at the MEC itself and last he knew, it was still in the hanger.

Myra herself had been absent from the main celebration, for what he assumed were obvious reasons. Though he did wonder if she’d be returning to the Barracks or finding a new place to sleep because of her prosthetics.

He got up and walked out of the Barracks into the deserted hallways. It was pretty late, or early, depending, so there were not many people up and about. Fine by him, he enjoyed the silence after the last few celebratory hours.

He did wonder just how public the Commander would make knowledge of the MECs. He could see it becoming public if he just never told anyone that they were piloted by actual humans. That would start attracting attention that the Commander would likely want kept hidden. Or maybe the population wouldn’t care either, especially if they saw footage of the MEC in action.

However…should EXALT learn about what the MECs really were, he could see some rather damning propaganda videos that could be released, real or not. But for that to happen, they’d have to either have sources in the Council or XCOM itself. As far as he knew, there weren’t any in XCOM, but the Council was another matter and he wasn’t quite sure how the Council Representative here was going to tell this to the Council.

Well, that was for the Commander to worry about. He really should get around to speaking with that representative sometime, it might be interesting to hear what a civilian like him thought about XCOM.

The hanger door swished open and he stepped into the largely empty hanger. It really was amazing just how clean and organized everything was. True, there were only three skyrangers and…whatever that MEC transport was, but still, there wasn’t any scrap, tools or waste spread out anywhere.

The limited aircraft also made the entire area feel much larger than it actually was. The slots built into the walls containing the Ravens probably helped with that, which was actually another clever design decision. He saw the deactivated MEC by the transport and began heading over too it.

His footsteps echoed throughout the empty hanger, or so he thought. Because he spotted another figure also by the MEC, either cleaning or repairing it. Hmm. Either an engineer or Myra, and he was betting on the latter at the moment. Well, he had wanted to speak with her, so this worked out perfectly.

She hadn’t bothered covering up her prosthetics, and only had some kind of gray covering over her torso. He could swear it looked armored. The legs looked incredibly basic and modular, though he had to admit that functionality was really all that was needed. But he would have thought that Shen and his team would have come up with _some_ kind of more…natural version.

At least the hands looked expertly made, at least judging by the way Myra was fiddling with a screwdriver on the MECs leg. It didn’t seem impressive, but he knew that the hand had plagued prosthetics creators for decades. He supposed what made him somewhat uncomfortable was that pretty much every part of her had been replaced with something mechanical.

One, or two replacements, he could understand and move along. But _all_ her limbs? Not only that, it also looked like her head and neck had also been extensively modified. Pieces of metal were embedded in her neck and he thought he saw something that looked suspiciously like a jack in the back of her head. Though he couldn’t tell for sure since her shoulder-length hair covered it pretty well.

She must have heard him come up because she glanced over at him and stepped back from the MEC. “Coming to see for yourself?” She asked, a light electronic tint to her voice.

He glanced up at the towering MEC. It’s chest plates were open, so he supposed that was where Myra actually got into the MEC. He had no clue how she retained such control over it since it was so much larger than her body. “I saw the footage,” he answered. “Yes, I wanted to see for myself.”

“Hmm.” She glanced up at the MEC herself. “Yes, there’s nothing even close to it. Soran, right? I’ve seen you around.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’m one of the newer ones. Though I’ve seen you before. I honestly didn’t expect you to still be around after that mission.”

“Neither did I,” she answered, stepping back. “But it all worked out in the end.”

There was silence for a minute or so.

“What was it like?” Soran asked, looking back at her. “Controlling it?”

“Hmm…” She looked down at her prosthetics and curled her metal fingers into a fist. “What’s the strongest you’ve ever felt in your life? Multiply that tenfold. You look around, at the soldiers below you frantically shooting their weapons at you and understand that nothing can hurt you. I was unstoppable. Invincible. Alive….” She trailed off. “Out of the suit everything seems…muted, now. Slower. Weaker.”

“That makes sense,” Soran nodded. “I suppose you’d get used-“

_“No,”_ Myra grimaced and held up a hand. “You don’t understand. The suit was- _is_ part of me.” She brushed her hair apart and he saw that his glimpse had been right. Some kind of jack or plug had been implanted into her skull. It wasn’t large, but it seemed to lead directly into the brain. “These prosthetics aren’t for show,” Myra continued, letting her hands drop. “It’s not the same now after being plugged into a machine.”

“You volunteered for this?” Soran asked, cocking his head. “Why? Couldn’t you have just received a regular prosthetic?”

“Perhaps,” she gave a shrug, her face expressionless. “But the Commander offered this to me. He believed it would change the war in our favor and it seems he was right. At least that’s how it feels.”

“But still…” Soran shook his head. “You didn’t consider what might happen if it went wrong?”

“If I did, I don’t remember why,” she answered neutrally. “I trust the Commander. And this was the logical thing to do. Besides, wouldn’t you do whatever it took to protect those you care about?”

He thought about it. Quite honestly, he’d never seen himself as the sacrificial type. He’d never become invested in causes or ideologies. He preferred to act logically and rationally, and yet, Myra did have a point. “Yes,” he finally said. “I suppose I would.”

“All of us here probably would,” Myra nodded. “After all we’ve seen what the aliens would do to us…” she trailed off, her hands slowly falling to her sides. He waited for her to continue and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her face, with nothing but a vacant expression and sightless eyes.

“Myra?” he asked, taking a step closer. “You alright?”

She was still breathing and keeping her balance, but seemed to be completely unaware. He snapped his fingers. “Myra!”

Still no response. He was seriously considering getting someone when Myra straightened. “Reboot,” she muttered and slowly turned her head towards him, her expression just as vacant. “Sorry, did you say something?”

She sounded completely normal, but whatever _that_ was clearly wasn’t. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked carefully.

“I’m functional,” she answered. “Why?”

“You…” he waved his hand. “Sort of spaced out.”

“Ah, a glitch,” she nodded. “It’s happened from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

He blinked. “You’re _not_ worried about that.”

“Not anymore,” she answered nonchalantly. “I don’t feel as you do anymore. I sometimes get shadows of the more disruptive emotions, but I no longer feel any need to focus on them.”

Soran swallowed. “You don’t feel anything anymore?”

“Not like I used to, no,” she answered, walking in front of him. “I know what did elicit responses from me and what I used to feel, but I find that pointless now. Much more simple this way, not having to worry about anything. Not becoming outraged over trivial things.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Soran demanded, surprised she was so calm. “Just…did you know this might happen?”

“It was a risk, yes,” she answered with a shrug. “But one I accepted. I feel no anger and neither should you.”

The way she said those words almost absentmindedly highlighted something he’d briefly noticed as soon as they started talking. Myra didn’t seem completely…there. She still… _functioned_ as she put it but her words, responses and tone were listless, dull and empty. It was like talking to a sleepwalker.

A more cognizant sleepwalker if that make any sense, but at least like talking with someone continually distracted.

“I see,” he finally said. “I suppose, well, I didn’t think that was a potential side effect. It surprised me. But…” he trailed off as Myra had gone back to working on the MEC, seeming to have blocked him out entirely.

He couldn’t tell if it was intentional or as a side effect of her apparent wandering mind. But at the very least, it meant their conversation was done. Turning on his heel he began walking out of the hanger, considerably less enthused than before.

He wondered how the other soldiers would react when they learned more about Myra’s condition. He didn’t really know her that well, but she was one of the veterans from the very beginning. Knowing the soldiers here, they’d likely applaud her for her sacrifice, even if it cost or compromised her personality.

True, it was war and sacrifices had to be made. Still, he wondered if there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if it gave XCOM an edge. But he supposed as long as there were soldiers willing to volunteer, then these kind of projects would always continue. Those who volunteered had to be admired, and as he’d admitted to Myra, he himself might have done so as well.

He would just hope that someone would make sure he wasn’t used. He could see how some might take advantage once they knew they could effectively create a bunch of soulless mechanical soldiers. He wasn’t convinced the Commander _wouldn’t_ do something like that if the situation demanded it, but as it stood now, he’d probably keep the volunteers limited.

Well, he’d have to do his part to make sure these programs didn’t run completely unchecked.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“I suppose the most important question to ask is if they can actually pull it off.”

Zhang appraised the holotable displaying a map of Asia. “I see no reason for the Russians to lie about this.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” the Commander agreed. “And if they _can_ follow through…”

“Then we can’t really pass this up **,** ” Zhang finished.

“I would be careful about this,” Van Doorn warned, frowning at them. “Russia isn’t doing this out of the kindness of their hearts. They think they can get more out of this than us.”

“Of course,” the Commander nodded. “But whether they get more is debatable. Even half of what they promise would nearly guarantee financial independence from the Council within a few months. Furthermore, they need us more than we need them. They won’t renege on our deal or try to extort us for more.”

“Unless it will benefit them,” Van Doorn added. “The Russians will take advantage if they spot weakness.”

The Commander snorted. “The moment they try something like that they can say goodbye to any more of our tech. The President isn’t stupid, he knows that if he holds up his end, I’ll hold up mine.”

“The hardest part will be setting up alliances with the three countries,” Zhang said, pointing to the map. “That will take time.”

“We should also consider the implications of a technologically advanced Russia,” Van Doorn said, looking at the Commander intently. “Because of all the Council nations, they would be the most likely to use their newfound military strength to expand their borders.”

“Not as long as things stay relatively calm,” the Commander responded, shaking his head. “Even if the UN is toothless, there are other countries who are not and a conquest would not only bring about worldwide condemnation, but also possible reprisal. No one wants that right now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Van Doorn pressed. “If we’re wrong we could be enabling an international incident.”

“President Savvin respects me,” the Commander stated. “He knows that territorial wars are not in anyone’s favor, least of all Russia. I could be wrong, of course, but I sincerely don’t believe he’ll begin a conquest.”

“If nothing else, it’ll keep China in check,” Zhang added, crossing his arms. “Assuming Russia can make enough improvements to gain a technological edge.”

“Agreed,” the Commander glanced over at Zhang. “I’d much rather have an advanced Russia than China. At least Russia is completely focused on the alien threat.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Van Doorn sighed. “And what happens if the Council discovers our subterfuge?”

“The only way that would happen is if one of us talked,” the Commander answered, resting his hands on the holotable. “We’ll set up alliances as normal, deliver the tech and Russia will do the rest. As long as we don’t know the details, we can claim plausible deniability.”

Zhang gave a small grin. “Ah, the Council would _love_ that.”

“I suppose there are some benefits to political-speech,” the Commander chuckled. “Though I’d prefer we didn’t actually have to worry about that.”

“In the meantime, there is something to actually worry about, or at least keep an eye on,” Zhang straightened up and picked up his tablet. After tapping on it a few seconds, he handed it to the Commander. “We finally have some pictures of what Israel is actually doing.”

The first picture was a few soldiers guarding a dusty street that was apparently abandoned. But unlike most of IDF, they were actually wearing some kind of body armor, colored in tans and browns. It wasn’t nearly as refined or complete as XCOM armor, but they were clearly utilizing the alien alloys in an actual physical sense.

The Commander flipped to the second image and this one showed soldiers in regular armor test firing some kind of weapon. It wasn’t laser, but neither did it appear a fully ballistic weapon. “You know what they’re testing?” He asked, looking up.

“They seem to be trying to create some kind of magnetic based weapon, at least from what my source can learn,” Zhang explained. “They’re having trouble keeping the weapon from breaking after a few uses, though.”

“Interesting,” Van Doorn mused. “If they’re actually looking in Gaussian weaponry, it actually might put them on a somewhat even playing field with the aliens.”

“I should talk with Shen to see how possible it actually is,” the Commander said. “Though I suppose the more important question is still what Israel is planning to do.”

“That, we’re still in the dark on,” Zhang admitted. “However, war games have ramped up in abandoned areas and if I had to make a guess, I’d say that Israel is planning to attack another country.”

“Unlikely,” Van Doorn dismissed firmly, shaking his head. “Israel doesn’t have the manpower to hold onto more than a few countries. Not to mention they’d turn most of the world against them.”

“Not necessarily,” Zhang disagreed, leaning back against the wall. “Even if the UN does condemn them, what exactly are they going to do about it? Especially if they _do_ end up developing Gauss weaponry?”

“Good question,” Van Doorn pursed his lips. “Honestly, I doubt they would involve NATO especially since they’d likely be outmatched. I’m more concerned about the ramifications for _XCOM_. Especially since we were the ones who enabled them to become a threat.”

“You have a point,” the Commander muttered. “They’d likely call for me to condemn Israel, or at the very least, end our alliance.”

“Would there really be any doubt on that?” Van Doorn asked, eyeing him warily.

“That would depend on Israel’s reasons,” the Commander answered slowly. “But that decision should be made when we come to it. No point worrying about it now with the aliens and EXALT actively working against us.”

“In this case I’m going to have to disagree with you,” Van Doorn stated firmly. “Should this scenario, however unlikely, actually happen, XCOM _cannot_ be thought to support it in any way. This shouldn’t be a discussion.”

“I don’t make important decisions based on _politics,_ ” the Commander responded coldly, fixing his gaze on Van Doorn. “Should this happen, I will hear Israel’s reasons and should I conclude they are in the wrong, I will condemn them. But I will certainly _not_ do it because the Council _asks_ me too.”

Van Doorn sighed. “I know you view them favorably, but that cannot influence how you treat them elsewhere. At best it will look like indifference, at worst favoritism. They are not always right or infallible.”

“If I really trusted them fully I wouldn’t be having Zhang watching them would I?” The Commander shot back, crossing his arms. “I prefer knowing all the facts before making rash decisions, not reacting based on what others think.”

“Which is admirable,” Van Doorn insisted. “But we’re talking about an unprovoked conquest. Tell me, who _actually_ threatens Israel right now? Honestly? This isn’t during the war on terror when Israel was indeed in real danger. Every single power in the Middle East has been reduced to shadow, _except_ Israel.”

“Who no doubt despise them even more,” the Commander answered. “But you have a good point. Which is one reason that I’m watching them. And if it makes you feel better, this is something I won’t make without the majority of the Inner Council approving of. But it won’t be done until we have _all_ the facts.”

“May I remind you that this is simply based off _my_ opinion,” Zhang reminded them, a sly smile on his lips. “When I offered it, I didn’t exactly expect such a heated discussion on it.”

“It’s heated because it’s plausible,” Van Doorn muttered. “But yes, everything is hypothetical now.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded, taking a breath. “Let’s focus on what’s actually happening.”

“A good idea,” Zhang agreed. “Now, if we’re going to take up Russia’s offer, this is what we’ll have to do.”

***

_The Citadel, Several hours later_

The Commander groaned and rolled over onto his back. Despite a valiant effort, he couldn’t sleep, as usual. After lying in bed several seconds, he sighed and sat up and swung his legs off the side. Well, no point staying here then. Best to be productive.

He dressed and walked out into his office and sat down in front of the computer and pressed the power button after it didn’t turn on. Odd. He didn’t recall turning it off.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again and still nothing. He leaned down to check, and yes, the power _was_ plugged in. Great. Just what he needed now. He pressed the intercom button. “Bradford, something’s wrong with the computer. Can you send someone up to check?”

All that came through was static. Loud static as well. He frowned at the intercom. That wasn’t right. He tried fiddling with the wire and it immediately stopped. He sat back. “You get that, Bradford?”

_“Miss me?”_ The familiar mocking voice of Farida greeted over the intercom. He immediately slammed a finger on the _end_ button. And leaned back in his chair.

Well, so he _had_ been able to fall asleep, so that was something. Now he just had to find Farida, or more likely, she’d find him. He wasn’t quite sure how long he was going to entertain her this time. He really wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at again.

Standing up, he walked to the door and opened it.

And stepped out somewhere completely different.

The cold steel walls of the Citadel were completely gone and replaced by what seemed to be a perfect recreation of the Kremlin. He was just in the lobby, but it was eerily quiet and there wasn’t a soul around.

At least it wasn’t another desert. It was nice to have a change of scenery for once. Though he did wonder what his subconscious had in store for him this time.

“Ah, you made it!” An oddly familiar voice greeted behind him. The Commander turned around to see a familiar thin man giving him that doppelganger’s smile and his hands clasped in front of him.

Well, this was new. Usually the only consistent members of his dreams were Farida, and sometimes members of his team form the War on Terror. Not creations of his mind like that thin man. Who he specifically remembered melting into mush the last time they’d “spoken” and it’d tried to debate him on the Hades Contingency, more or less.

Well, he was back and didn’t appear any different. Still wearing those black clothes and spectacles. Even the hair was exactly as he remembered it. If his subconscious really wanted to change things up, it could have at least brought in an EXALT operative to debate him, because right now he wasn’t quite sure what this was in response too.

“You again **,** ” he stated as the alien approached him. “I didn’t think to see you again.”

“Our last conversation ended….” The alien paused and glanced up knowingly, then back down at him. _“…abruptly.”_

The Commander sighed. “And are you coming back for a repeat? Because I have Farida to deal with in addition to you, so it might be simpler to just end you now.”

“No need to worry about your former wife interrupting us,” the alien answered smoothly, an oily smile on his face. “I’ve ensured she’ll leave us alone for the time being.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Really. How very impressive,” he paused. “You realize that I could just remove you now?”

“I seem to recall that not working the last time,” the alien pointed out. “You ended up having to resort to more _violent_ methods. You surprised me last time. It will not work again.”

He was not talking like any normal projection. By now he would have gotten to the point, but instead he was actually talking to him as if he was real. Which was…odd. More than odd, _disturbing_. Especially since he was getting the impression he was missing something pretty obvious.

“Leave **,** ” he ordered, not wanting to deal with this now.

The alien simply stood and shook his head. “Come now, Commander. Do you really think that would work?”

“Then would you prefer I return to the more ‘violent methods **’**?” The Commander demanded icily.

“You really are an interesting human,” the alien commented. “Had this been anyone else they would have figured it out already. But these dreams are normal for you. I suppose a demonstration is in order.”

The Commander opened his mouth to question that and was suddenly hit with what felt like a concussive blast of wind and was thrown back into the concrete wall. Metal immediately burst from the walls and wrapped themselves around his waist, wrists and ankles, effectively securing them.

The alien slowly walked over to him. “You are not the only one with power over dreams, _Commander_. Your talent, while impressive, isn’t a match for mine.”

 The Commander felt flesh creeping over his lips and imagined that had this been real, he would be terrified. But as it stood, he was almost indifferent. _Cheeky_ _little alien_. He thought, no doubt inflicted upon him as some kind of revenge.

The alien cocked his head. “Not so much fun being on the other side, is it?” He asked, somehow managing not to sound smug. Just like stating a fact.

The Commander furrowed his brow and a few seconds of concentration later, was able to open his mouth. The metal suddenly became as weak as paper and he broke out with no problem. Eyeing the alien warily, he answered. “Perhaps, but this is still _my_ dream. Not yours.”

“True,” the alien nodded. “Which is why you’ll always be able to fight back, no matter how powerful I allow myself to be.”

They stood in silence for several seconds.

“You’re real **,** ” The Commander finally said.

“And it only took you several tries to figure it out,” the alien agreed, with a slight grin. “I would have expected the revelation quicker, but your circumstances _are_ a bit more unusual.”

The Commander frowned. “So the last time…”

“Yes, that was me as well,” the alien confirmed. “Not quite the way I wanted to end our talk.”

The Commander crossed his arms, eyeing the alien skeptically. “Really. If that was really you, how was able to dispel you so easily?”

The alien glanced up. “Ah, that,” he looked back down and continued without any change in tone. “Simply put, I underestimated you. I didn’t think you to be completely cognizant of what was going on, let alone being able to dispose me in that manner.”

“You seem more prepared now,” the Commander noted.

“Because I am,” the alien inclined his head. “Last time I only devoted a small amount of energy to projecting myself here and in my arrogance, didn’t think to give myself protection as well. It has been decades since one of us has been defeated, mentally or otherwise. But now I am prepared for whatever you might do.”

So, if the alien was in his head…Fuck. That was utterly compromising no matter how he put it. He wasn’t sure if the alien could _read_ his mind, per-se. But if it could... “So why are you here?” He asked, circling the alien. “Come to see what you can learn from me?”

The alien sniffed, as if offended he would even ask that question. “I cannot read your mind in this state, Commander. Perhaps if I devoted more of my power, but I see that as a feat that would cost too much for too little reward.”

Well, that was good. Assuming of course the alien was telling the truth. “You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded him. “Why are you here?”

“To talk,” the alien answered simply. “Along with a more personal curiosity.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“You will have no choice until I leave.”

The Commander reached down by his waist and un-holstered the laser pistol that had materialized and pressed the barrel to his head. “Try again. That’s not how this works. There are only two ways I can leave: Farida dies, or I die.”

The alien didn’t look the least bit worried. “Normally, yes. But as long as I’m here, all you will accomplish by ending your ‘life’ is putting yourself into a coma or worse. And you wouldn’t want to deprive XCOM of your leadership _now_ , would you?”

“You’re bluffing **,** ” The Commander stated.

“Perhaps,” the alien mused, walking beside him and turning his head with a knowing smile. “But can you really take that chance.”

No, not yet at least. And he had no intention of leaving quite yet anyway, but he was curious to see how the alien would react. Perhaps he could learn something from him as well. Because he didn’t think that the alien came here _just_ to ‘talk.’

“I’ll concede that point,” he said, putting the weapon down and turning to the alien. “But enlighten me, what could we _possibly_ have to talk about?”

“A great many things,” the alien responded. “Perhaps I wanted to see if you really think you can win this war.”

“At our current pace, certainly,” the Commander answered. “I would say we have more victories than defeats against your kind.”

“Hmm,” the alien pursed his lips. “You do understand this is not reflective of an _actual_ war, correct? Several of our spacecraft landing and you sending in your soldiers is _not_ a war.”

The Commander gave a humorless smile. “Well, it seems to be the only one you’re willing to wage.”

“Do you honestly believe that _you_ are the most important issue we have to deal with?” The alien demanded, pacing. “You are confined to one planet. We oversee dozens.”

“We tend to take the survival of our species _very_ seriously,” the Commander pointed out. “I could not care less about what _other_ issues you are supposedly dealing with.”

The alien paused pacing. “I’m curious. You still seem to think our ultimate objective is the eradication or enslavement of your species. What exactly do you have to prove this?”

The Commander sighed. “Didn’t we have a similar conversation last time? Do you _honestly_ not see? You attacked us, then attacked our cities to slaughter the population, you kidnap humans for whatever experiments you run and have killed my soldiers throughout this entire campaign. And yet you wonder why I want your kind dead?”

“We did not start this war, Commander,” the alien told him with a knowing grin. “Tell me, who initiated the first military strike? Because it wasn’t us.”

The Commander scowled. “You abducted an entire town filled with hundreds of humans. That’s as good a declaration of war as any.”

“A fair point, I can understand the reasoning,” the alien nodded, surprising him. “But no human is used in vain. All serve a greater purpose, which in your case, will be the _survival_ of your species.”

The Commander chuckled. “You _cannot_ be serious.”

“You would not understand,” the alien shrugged, answering calmly. “And I don’t see why us using humans is worse than you using the corpses and bodies of our soldiers.”

“Because our survival depends on it,” the Commander answered. “Despite what you say, I find it hard to believe that you’re gaining anything useful from the thousands of human corpses other than ways to kill us.”

“Oh, I assure you, we’re gaining _much_ more,” the alien answered. “But I believe I’m getting off topic here. Who is this war currently serving, Commander? Because I don’t think you believe you can win against us anymore than I do.”

“Better for us to die than live under you,” the Commander answered coldly. “You might win, but I’ll ensure many of you will die in the process.”

“How violent,” the alien actually sounded _sad_. “Your species has proven themselves resilient. We don’t need to continue this conflict anymore. Surrender to us and I promise your species will be treated as if this war had never taken place. Imagine how much greater you could be working _with_ us instead of trying to kill us.”

It was odd, but the Commander got the impression that the alien was actually being genuine. It still changed nothing, but it was interesting. “While I appreciate the _very_ generous offer, I’m going to have to decline,” he answered, crossing his arms. “We don’t need you to advance. We’ll forge our own path without your help. We will not be dependent to you, nor will we be subservient. Humanity will not capitulate until there is no choice, and most of us not even then,”

He paused. “So I have a counter-offer for you, assuming you _really_ want this war to end. Leave. Leave us and return in fifty years or so, and come _peacefully_. I believe humanity would be willing to work as equals, not as yet another species under your…collective.”

The alien started ahead. “That is simply not possible,” he said, something in his voice changing. “Fifty years may be long for your species, but it is but a moment for us. And we need to use every second we can.”

“Then we are still at war,” the Commander stated firmly. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“I am not surprised,” the alien sighed. “But I cannot fault you for feeling that way, as misguided and egotistical as it is.”

“Then are we done here?” The Commander asked wearily.

The alien looked at him, that eerie smile still on it’s face. “Almost. I did come for another reason. A personal experiment of mine, simply to see if it would work. And by the sounds of things, I think it did.”

The Commander frowned. “What are you talking about? And how do you know?”

“Because we’re speaking,” the alien chuckled, a broken and hollow imitation of the real thing. “Perhaps it worked a little _too_ well.”

“Why do you feel the need to be so cryptic?” The Commander demanded. “That doesn’t help.”

“Write out the first words that come to your mind,” the alien suggested, pointing at him. The Commander looked down at the pad of paper and pen that had materialized in his hands. Let’s see…first things that came to his mind. _End the dream_. Fine, that would do. Glaring at the alien, he wrote on the paper.

“Done,” he said, lowering his hands to his side.

“Look at it,” the alien suggested.

He sighed and looked down at the paper. His eyes widened when he saw what he’d written. It wasn’t English, or anything close to a recognizable language. It was in the flowing, hieroglyphic language he’d seen from the alien tech they’d recovered. Glyphs and symbols that the scientists were still trying to figure out.

And he could understand it perfectly.

He took a deep breath and looked over at the alien calmly observing him. “[What did you do to me?]” He asked, aware they were now speaking in the alien language.

“[I wanted to see if I could transfer something,]” the alien answered nonchalantly. “[As I said, an experiment. Perhaps a test for you as well.]”

“Why _this_?” The Commander demanded, switching back to English. “You _do_ understand what you’ve just given me?”

“I do, and I’m interested to see how you utilize it,” the alien answered with a smile. “It will not affect the outcome of this war, so I see no reason to withhold this simply because of traditional wartime rules.”

Oh, Vahlen was just going to _love_ this. He imagined that all of them would be torn between concern and amazement that the alien would _actually_ give something like this up. It made no sense. At all. “Thank you?” He asked, not really sure how else to respond. “And is there some catch I should be aware of?”

“If there was, would I tell you?” The alien asked, amused. “But no. Until next time, Commander.” With that he vanished, leaving him alone.

What the hell had happened? For one, he was starting to get the suspicious that this _was_ just a dream because there was just no way their enemy would just _give_ them one of the keys to understanding their technology. And if they were _still_ that confident of their victory, even after that…it didn’t bode well, no matter how he looked at it. Especially if they controlled dozens of planets as the alien had claimed.

“About time,” the voice of Farida called behind him. “Are you that weak that you couldn’t get rid of something inside your own head?”

He gritted his teeth and concentrate on her voice. He was far beyond putting up with her insults now. He raised his wrist and twisted sharply and the sound of her neck snapping echoed throughout the abandoned Kremlin. He wished his subconscious would shut up, sometimes. But he only had to ponder that for a moment.

Then he woke up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Council Mission: Newfoundland

 

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

Oh, boy. How the hell was he going to explain _any_ of this?

_So I was having one of my dreams and I had a conversation with one of the aliens. Yes, really. No I’m not crazy. We had a nice chat and he also did something to me and now I can understand the alien language. No, I’m not making this up, stop laughing._

In all seriousness, how _was_ he going to explain it? It didn’t appear that the alien was still in his head, so on that front he was _probably_ safe. Maybe. He’d have Zhang and Van Doorn watch him closely for erratic behavior for a while. But since this apparently wasn’t their first meeting and the last time he’d come away fine, he didn’t think he had to worry too much now.

Still, precautions were necessary.

Now, assuming the alien had been telling the truth throughout that entire exchange, there was a lot of interesting details to work out. He suspected Vahlen would be more fascinated than worried by the event, especially since he could now understand the alien language. The rest of them? _Probably_ not as enthused.

At the very least they were going to make some progress on the alien code, assuming of course that the alien hadn’t played a joke on him by giving him the knowledge to understand some dialect that was dead. Wouldn’t that be funny. Humph. Well, that appeal to surrender had certainly been endearing, if a little odd.

For a species that apparently wanted peace, they sure didn’t know how best to express that desire. The alien didn’t strike him as entirely unreasonable, or an idiot, so he wondered if that conversation had really been endorsed by this alien collective as a whole. The alien had pretty much admitted he’d wanted to speak on his own and labeled the whole transferring language process as an “experiment.” It seemed far too informal to be anything other than a personal interest, if that.

That being said, if the alien somehow _had_ convinced him to surrender, he had no doubt his superiors would complain. Though he doubted they’d be quite as benevolent as the alien let on. Too bad hadn’t thought to ask for a name, assuming these aliens _had_ names. Referring to this clearly powerful alien in such a generic term seemed…insulting, not to mention inaccurate.

However, the fact that the alien had even reached out indicated that XCOM was making enough problems for them to be concerned, despite what the alien had claimed. Armies that were winning didn’t usually offer such good surrender terms, let alone ones that was clearly more advanced than their opponent.

He was beginning to suspect that there might be some truth to their reasoning when the alien had said something to the effect of “We have more important matters,” since it would explain why this whole invasion was being managed so poorly. There was no denying it, they should have won this “war” in a matter of weeks. Frankly, they probably still could, but not without significantly more casualties.

But by not putting their best forward, they’d given humanity a chance to advance and now that they had MECs, laser weaponry, alloy armoring, soon to be genetically modified soldiers and the alien code, XCOM and humanity stood a very real chance of putting up a fight. Especially if tech kept advancing.

He scowled. This had brought up questions he’d put aside since he’d been so busy, but was now being forced to reconsider. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any better answers now either. Well, this whole incident had shot his plans for the day, which had been primarily to interrogate that EXALT operative they’d recovered.

He would still get around to that, but not for a least a days as at the moment, there were more important things to worry about. He suspected Herman was going to come by at some point about the MEC and that would be an interesting chat. Fortunately, the representative was not being as disruptive as he’d expected. He was clearly in support of the Council, but was smart enough to think for himself. He wondered if Herman had asked about an Intelligence branch. Most likely he’d been shot down, but it was the thought that counted, at least in this case.

A light on his desk blinked, indicating someone approaching. Vahlen. He hadn’t requested anyone else. Sure enough, the doors swished open revealed Vahlen dressed in her typical XCOM scientist garb. He wondered if she _had_ any other cloths, since it occurred to him that he’d only seen her in those.

What _was_ different was that her hair was loose, falling just to her shoulders. He realized he’d never seen it like that, since Vahlen kept it tied up when she was working. It was rather attractive, he had to admit. He wondered what had prompted it, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Still, it didn’t completely distract him from more serious matters.

“You wanted to see me?” Vahlen asked, stopping in front of his desk.

He stood and rubbed his forehead. “Yes. I figured I’d tell you first.”

Vahlen frowned. “Tell me what first?”

The Commander glance up at the ceiling. “Remember when I told you about the dreams I have?”

She nodded. “Yes, I do. Are you doing alright?”

“No worse than usual, I think,” he answered, flattered that she was concerned. “But well, this time it was different.” He paused. Better to just get it out right away. “I think one of the aliens made contact with me through them.”

Vahlen blinked. “It…talked with you?” She said almost in disbelief. “… _How?_ ”

“Are you asking how it made contact in the first place, or how it talked with me?” The Commander asked, crossing his arms **,** as he sighed

“Both would be useful, I think,” Vahlen answered, somewhat rhetorically. “Are you sure-“

“Do you really think I would bring this up if I wasn’t?” The Commander interrupted, not wanting to waste time. “I don’t know how, but I would assume that the contact was initiated psionically. I know we still don’t know much, but psionics is the only explanation I can think up at this point.”

“Psionic abilities have been documented to influence the mind,” Vahlen recalled slowly. “Something like this is theoretically possible…but would indicate that the one responsible for the contact is either very powerful or skillful.”

“I got that impression,” the Commander agreed. “It didn’t sound like I was speaking with a subordinate. Though he still appeared to me as a thin man.”

“So would this mean that the master alien species is one we haven’t encountered?” Vahlen asked, mostly to herself. “Or just something to throw us off?”

“No idea,” the Commander shrugged. “It could appear as anything. I suspect it choose a thin man to normalize our conversation, but it could be a sectoid for all I know.”

“Then why wouldn’t it appear as such?” Vahlen asked. “We already know what those look like.”

“But we don’t know who the master species is,” the Commander pointed out. “Something that the aliens wisely want to keep hidden.”

“I…assume that they didn’t learn anything,” Vahlen wondered slowly. “I don’t like to ask but…”

“I’m well aware I could be compromised,” the Commander agreed, giving a small smile. “No need to worry about offending me. But…I don’t think this alien really wanted to learn anything from me. It said it wanted to talk and…that’s pretty much what we did,” he pursed his lips. “The alien said that he probably _could_ take information from me if he wanted…but I don’t know if he was telling the truth or not.”

He leaned on the table and looked at Vahlen. “I don’t _think_ the alien learned anything from our exchange, since he’d actually appeared a few months back. Except back then I didn’t know he was an alien and assumed he was another projection. Since they don’t appear to have used any kind information they shouldn’t have, I doubt that this time is different.” He shrugged. “But again, I don’t know for sure.”

“Alright,” Vahlen tapped a finger on her chin. “So, what did you talk about? Did you learn anything?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” the Commander muttered, grabbing a pad of paper he’d set on the table and began writing. “Our conversation mostly boiled down to him trying to convince me to surrender unsuccessfully, but I’ll tell you specifics later if you’re interested. No, _this_ is the most important thing I got out of it.”

He handed Vahlen the pad. On it was a line of symbols and glyphs. Her mouth parted slightly as she took it, eyes widening as she analyzed the page. “Commander, what is _this_?”

“Your name,” he answered simply. “As best as I was able to translate. Their language is not the best at direct translations, I think Ariel was right in that it is complemented by some kind of psionic component, something is clearly missing. I need to experiment some more.”

“How…?” She whispered, then swallowed. “How do you know this?”

“The alien gave it to me,” the Commander sighed. “An ‘experiment’ or so he says. Don’t ask me why he did it, but I now have the entirety of the alien language in my head.”

“This is incredible!” Vahlen exclaimed, her face lighting up. “We can use this to break the alien code! Not to mention translating all the markings on their equipment.”

“Provided that there isn’t multiple dialects,” the Commander cautioned. “But yes, if the aliens have the audacity to give us this advantage, we’re going to take full advantage of it.”

“I assume you’re going to tell the others about it,” Vahlen said. “They have to know where you got it.”

“Definitely,” the Commander agreed. “Best if everyone knows what’s going on. Though I think we need to reopen some research on psionics. Perhaps you could examine Patricia again, see if anything’s changed.”

“Yes, Commander,” Vahlen nodded. “I-“

The intercom beeped and the Commander pressed the answer button. “Yes, Bradford?”

_“We have a message coming in from the Council,”_ he answered. _“You can answer when you’re ready.”_

Hmm. Well that was unexpected, though it had been a while since they’d last spoken. Something must have come up or they had some new grievance to bring against him. This definitely wasn’t going to be a normal chat.

Not that it had really _ever_ been. But tensions had been a lot lower in the beginning. He turned to the screen behind him and prepared to receive the call. “I’ll let you take the call,” Vahlen said as she made to leave.

“You don’t have to,” the Commander told her, glancing back. “I have no issue with you participating.”

Her lips twitched. “I didn’t come prepared for a Council meeting.”

He gave a sniff then smiled. “If you’re worried about how you look, I can assure you that you look good. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

She brushed a few strands behind her ears. “Well, thank you. I’m glad you think so. But I didn’t really _do_ anything to it.”

Ah, there she was taking him literally again. “The point is you look fine,” he waved her over by him. “Come on, let’s see what the Council has to say to us.”

He several buttons on the table and moved to stand in front of the screen, Vahlen to his right. It flashed on and the harsh blue lighting that accompanied the Speaker greeted him, the silhouette as familiar as ever. “Speaker,” he greeted, inclining his head. “A pleasure to see you again. It’s been some time.”

_“That it has,”_ the deep synthesized voice of the Speaker answered, who also briefly inclined his head towards the Commander. _“Much has happened since we spoke that, though I am pleased to see you well.”_

Well, how nice of him. Regardless of his opinions of the Council, the Speaker had proven to be the most reasonable person he’d met on the Council. He didn’t know whether the man was really like that or just _that_ dedicated to impartiality. Whatever the case, he was someone who deserved respect.

“Same to you as well, Speaker,” he answered. “I presume the state of the Council hasn’t changed?”

_“Tensions have lowered after our representative was sent,”_ the Speaker answered. _“Though the sides have not changed. You have done nothing new to provoke the ones opposed to you, though they most likely suspect you’re not being honest to begin with.”_

The Commander had to smirk at that, regardless of its truth. “Even with your representative here? I suspect nothing will please them then.”

_“Representative Diederick was not a unanimous decision, nor one especially liked by the nations opposed to you,”_ the Speaker clarified. _“In the end, very few were happy with the final candidate, though Russia was able to push the measure through.”_

Well, well. That would explain why the representative they’d sent was much more reasonable than he’d assumed. So Tamara was the one behind it, though if Russia held enough influence to ensure this passed, he wondered why they didn’t strike sending someone at all. Perhaps she’d done the best she could, but he still wondered.

“I see,” he finally said. “I wasn’t aware _your_ representative was the cause of so much controversy.”

_“The Council would prefer to keep their internal disputes quiet, as you would no doubt understand,”_ the Speaker answered. _“Regardless, Representative Diederick has not reported anything suspicious to the Council, and is not the purpose of this call.”_

The Commander clasped his hands behind his back. “And may I ask what the purpose _is_?”

_“Twofold, Commander,”_ the Speaker answered, clasping his hands together. _“The first of which concerns your…allies not affiliated with the Council. We were hoping you would enlighten us on what is happening within Germany and Israel. A growing number of councilors are becoming…concerned.”_

Hmm. How much to tell. There really wasn’t anything _that_ damaging he could really report. At least with Germany. The weapon tests Israel was conducting didn’t have to, nor should be, be mentioned. “Israel has not shared its future plans with XCOM,” the Commander answered honestly. “Though I wouldn’t expect them too anyway. International affairs are not XCOM’s concern, as the Council has made _quite_ clear.”

That was rather satisfying to say, and he just realized that he now had an out whenever they wanted information about other countries. He could just use their own words against them, creating deniability even if both of them knew it wasn’t plausible. Their own fault, unfortunately.

“As for Germany, we’re still watching the situation,” the Commander continued. “I can assure the Council that if the Chancellor continues his crackdown, then I will personally deal with it.”

_“While I have no doubt your assurance is genuine, the Council would formally request that you sever ties with these countries until we know more about Israel’s future plans and Germany restores civil freedoms,”_ the Speaker said, almost straining to sound neutral. _“Knowingly or not, XCOM is providing these countries with alien technology that might enable them to continue their plans unchallenged. I would assume that XCOM would not want to become associated with deeds these countries may commit.”_

He felt Vahlen stiffen in indignation and had to agree. Really, did they honestly expect that to work? And they must not have heard about the recent alliances with the South American countries otherwise they would have included some ridiculous reason to sever those as well. There was absolutely no way he was going to be solely reliant on the Council nations again.

“While I _deeply_ appreciate the Council’s concern for XCOM’s…image,” the Commander answered, trying not to sound too sarcastic. “I will not sever ties until I have all the facts. Israel has not provided any reason to distrust them and as I said, the German situation is still developing. I will have to speak with both the Prime Minister and Chancellor before even considering severing ties.”

_“Very well,”_ the Speaker conceded. _“Though know that the Council will not support you should the situations worsen.”_

Oh dear. However could he continue? Knowing that the Council _wouldn’t support him._ He couldn’t keep a smile off his face. The Council hated the idea of his alliances since the beginning. Literally nothing had changed; the Council just wanted to say it to him again.

“With that settled, may I ask what the second topic is?” The Commander asked, ready to move on.

_“Yes,”_ the Speaker nodded. _“We have acquired information that shows a fishing port in Newfoundland has gone dark several hours ago. We suspect alien activity.”_

“That was fast,” the Commander commented.

_“The port is one of the largest seafood distributors in North America,”_ the Speaker explained. _“It’s estimated that around thirty percent of seafood for the continent goes through them. Which raises suspicions that this was not a random strike.”_

“Perhaps they’re getting smarter,” the Commander muttered. “Targeting the food is a good move.”

_“Since the port is a much higher profile than the normal targets, we were able to determine they’d gone dark far quicker than usual,”_ the Speaker said. _“We don’t know how the attacks were carried out, but if you send a team soon, you might stop them before they cause too much damage.”_

“We’ll do that,” the Commander promised. “Thanks for the intel.”

_“Put it to good use, Commander,_ ” the Speaker answered. _“Good luck. We will be watching.”_

With that he ended the call. “Alright. Time to get to work.”

He turned to Vahlen. “Can you tell Bradford to get Van Doorn and Herman and meet me in the Situation Room while I compile a squad?”

Vahlen nodded. “I’ll do that,” she promised. “That seemed to go well.”

“Better than normal,” the Commander agreed as he sat down. “The Council actually came in useful for once. Let’s hope we can salvage this before the aliens destroy the port.”

“I’ll tell Bradford now,” she said and turned to leave. “Good luck, Commander.”

He gave her a smile. “Thanks, Moira. We’ll get everything sorted out with my head after the mission. I know you’re probably wanting to run some tests.”

She simply gave a smile and walked out and he focused on his computer screen. Time to get to work.

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

“We barely managed to pass the Florida phase,” Samuel finished as he took a sip of water. “I still despise that state and it’s horribly humid weather.”

“That’s a bit more intense than what I went through,” Soran answered appreciatively, shaking his head. “Though it’s smart to actually put soldiers through simulations like that.”

“Agree on that,” Samuel agreed. “Even if I despised it at the time, I definitely put those skills to use later. Still is nothing compared to what the SEALs go through.”

Soran grimaced. He was well aware of the mental and physical torture the SEALs went through to be part of the unit. He suspected prisoners were treated better than SEAL trainees were. After doing research into the group, he now had a newfound respect for what they went through. But it was definitely _not_ for him. “I doubt that anything can really compare to Hell Week.”

“True,” Samuel chuckled and cocked his head. “You knew about that?”

“Yes,” Soran confirmed with a nod as he ate some more of the soup. “I wanted to learn more after hearing about their…reputation.”

“Makes sense,” Samuel agreed as he rested his arms on the table. “They’re probably the only special forces unit that has worldwide recognition. You’d be hard pressed to find someone who _doesn’t_ know who they are.”

“Unless of course they have no knowledge at all,” Soran pointed out. “Not all civilians really care about the military.”

Samuel smirked. “You clearly haven’t been to America then. Even if people don’t like the military, they at least have some basic knowledge.”

“I suppose it’s different in Japan,” Soran shrugged. “They’re a more…pacifistic society. The military is officially only supposed to be used for self-defense.”

“And unofficially?” Samuel asked.

“As I understand it, that’s why we exist,” Soran explained, referring to himself. “As long as it can be shown that Japan has been damaged in some way, there can be _some_ kind of retaliation. Though I suspect that is mostly to appease the civilian population. I would not be surprised if operations were being conducted in secret.”

“And you’re alright with that?” Samuel asked curiously.

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?” Soran asked, frowning. “All governments conduct operations outside civilian view. Why should I expect anything different from Japan?”

“Awfully pessimistic,” Samuel said wryly. “But I see your point.”

That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to convey. “That’s not pessimism,” he corrected, slightly confused. “It’s just how things have always worked, stretching back centuries. I don’t view it as pessimism, nor do I feel particularly strongly about the matter. Governments keep secrets, and as long as they don’t manage to wreck the country in the process, I trust that they’ll be worked out.”

“I wish I had your faith in the government,” Samuel commented, taking another sip of water. “But not much I can do except cast my vote.”

“Ah, right,” Soran recalled. “A presidential election is coming up, correct?”

“Correct,” Samuel sighed. “And I’m going to be happy to be away from it all. It’s not going to be pretty.”

Soran frowned. “Why?”

“Because there is quite a bit of tension in the country now,” Samuel answered. “Combined with an alien invasion, I suspect there’s going to be a lot of demonizing the other side without much compromise or common ground. Not that it’s really been different.”

“So you don’t know who you’re going to vote for?” Soran asked to clarify.

“America is going to become involved in the war officially, one way or another,” Samuel answered. “So I’d rather have someone I at least somewhat trust. I’ll probably vote for Kamili, at least in the primaries.”

That name sounded familiar. “Have I heard of her?” Soran asked as he tried to recall. “I think I recognize the name.”

“Possibly,” Samuel nodded. “She was a diplomat, a rather prolific one at that, mostly focusing on third world countries. An all-around exceptional woman, not much political experience, but I don’t necessarily see that as a bad thing.”

“Isn’t that dangerous though?” Soran asked, lacing his fingers together. “I would think that you’d want a candidate to have _some_ kind of political experience. Especially if they’re looking to run a country.”

“A good point,” Samuel agreed. “Though she would be one to surround herself with excellent advisors. Furthermore, she does offer something I haven’t seen in a long time; unity. I do believe that she’d manage to heal the rifts and at least try to fix the issues plaguing it. And while I know she doesn’t approve of war, she’d do her best to end it quickly.”

Soran eyed him skeptically. “I highly doubt this war is going to be ended _quickly_.”

“Probably not,” Samuel agreed. “I’d imagine this will be more or less decided before it even gets that to the actual election. A lot can happen in a year.”

“That it can,” Soran noted softly. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only disruption coming when a woman came up beside him.

“May I sit?” She asked him, her voice moderately accented. He glanced up and got a good look at her. She was clearly Asian, and as he was the only Japanese operative here, he supposed she was either Chinese or Korean. Unlike most of the soldiers here, her black hair was fairly long, falling a few inches below her shoulders, framing her oval face. She looked rather friendly and had a pleasant smile, though her green eyes were decidedly less so.

Interesting. Who could this be? “Of course,” he motioned to the seat beside him. “Take a seat.”

“Appreciated,” she answered and did sit beside him and began eating.

After a few minutes, Samuel spoke. “I don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am.”

“Apologies,” she said, glancing up with a small smile. “Shun Anwei, Ministry of State Security agent.”

Well, well, wasn’t that interesting. The MSS were one of the most highly regarded intelligence organizations in the world, and counted among the most dangerous as it was a Chinese organization. While he had little issue with the MSS, or Chinese for that matter, others weren’t so forgiving. Samuel might be one, judging by how he pursed his lips after she spoke.

“Soran Kakusa, 1st Airborne Brigade,” he answered, inclining his head towards her.

“A respectable position,” Shun nodded, then focused on Samuel. “And may I ask who you are?”

His voice was a bit tighter, though not much. “Samuel Roche. Army Ranger.”

“Ah, so have a SEAL _and_ a Ranger,” Shun chuckled. “Interesting.”

Samuel appraised her. “Not quite as interesting as an intelligence agent working directly in combat missions **,** ” he noted flatly.

“Not all of us are the cloak and dagger type,” Shun responded neutrally. “I would consider it a flawed organization if intelligence groups _didn’t_ have some kind of combat-trained personnel. Which I believe I am _adequate_ at.”

“I suppose we’ll see,” Soran said. “Though I doubt you will let us down. XCOM only recruits from the best.”

“That they do,” Shun agreed. “Though Samuel here does have a point. I do know there was some discussion on whether I was the best candidate to send instead of our more…traditional soldiers.”

“I would have thought China kept a closer lid on their discussions,” Samuel commented. “For you to hear that sounds odd.”

She snorted and gave him a smug grin. “Don’t believe everything you hear from American propaganda. I was well aware who else was being considered and they told me it was a close decision. But they felt that I was best choice in the end.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” Samuel asked, his voice growing _very_ rhetorical.

“Because I have a long record of successful mission and likely have a kill count as long as yours,” Shun answered, not completely taking the bait. “Do you want me to provide a certificate of approval?”

He gave a humorless smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

Soran blinked as he felt his wristband vibrating. Another mission. “Duty calls,” he shrugged at Samuel, not really wanting to leave the situation quite like this. Though it turned out he didn’t have too since Shun also stood.

“It appears I’ll be coming along as well,” she said, glancing up at him. “Perhaps you’ll see what I can do.”

“Good luck,” Samuel told him. “Kill some aliens for me.”

Soran gave a mock salute. “Will do **.** ” Then he left the Mess Hall with Shun at his side.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. “I don’t think your friend trusts me,” Shun commented, sounding more resigned than anything. “Probably thinks I’m here to spy on him by order of the Chinese.”

“Don’t blame him,” Soran told her. “It’s not entirely his fault that he’s been taught to think of the Chinese as wrong at best or evil at worst. It’s no different than you being taught that America is a capitalist dystopia.”

She snorted. “Come now, I know that isn’t true. Though I do see your point. Chinese propaganda doesn’t paint America in the best light. But still, at least I don’t treat every American as a potential spy.”

“You’re in intelligence, he’s in special forces,” Soran pointed out. “Of the two, I’d guess that intelligence operatives are more open to viewing the other side a little more neutrally.”

She glanced up at him suspiciously. “You’re one to talk. Japan doesn’t exactly view us favorably either.”

“The views of the Japanese majority are not my own,” he answered neutrally, looking ahead. “I don’t view China as much better or worse than Japan. We have our own long list of mistakes, which I think sometimes gets forgotten when dealing with other countries.”

“That’s an…interesting perspective,” she commented slowly. “I didn’t really expect it.”

“I don’t see a reason to view your position differently than a Russian or American with the same,” he continued. “The MSS functions in the same role as the CIA, MI6 and the CT agents of Russia. I don’t see why yours should be demonized while it performs the same operations as those organizations.”

“Because they view us as a threat,” Shun sighed, sounding torn between anger and frustration. “And for some reason don’t realize that they pose as much a threat to us as we do to them. And yet we always end up the bad guys.” She sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, this isn’t a conversation to have before a mission.”

“It’s understandable,” he empathized. “But prove yourself and you’ll do fine here. The soldiers here respect deeds and after you prove yourself, your nation won’t be an issue.”

“I hope you’re right,” she sighed. “But it’s good to know that some people will give me a chance.”

“Everyone deserves one,” Soran agreed. “No matter where they come from.”

“If only more thought like you,” Shun chuckled as they reached the barracks. “Alright, let’s go hunt some aliens.”

***

_Skyranger, En route to Abduction Zone_

As usual, no one had told them anything when they’d arrived in the hanger, though the fact that Patricia was in charge likely meant that it was a fairly high-profile operation. Shun was the only legitimate “rookie” on this mission, since the rest of the soldiers were veterans to an extent.

Pete Chandler was one of the few South Americans in XCOM, part of the Venezuelan Marines. He seemed like a decent guy, from the few minutes of conversation they’d had. Definitely one of the more easygoing soldiers he’d encountered.

Karl Lulling was one of the KSK agents that had joined after the Hamburg attack, and Soran was happy that they’d finally have a sniper on a mission. A quiet man, but he was clearly skilled at his job. Patricia had said he’d participated in raiding an alien transport that had crashed and had acquitted himself well.

He’d actually chatted with Eden Rayna’s sister quite a bit, and Eden seemed more or less like the exact same kind of personality. Very energetic and friendly. However, unlike her sister she was now wielding a laser shotgun instead of a rifle. Hopefully her engineering experience would come in handy, provided that SOER operatives understood _engineering_ in the traditional sense.

“Do we have any information on the area?” Shun asked, resting her hands on her knees.

“That will be given to us when the Commander deems it fit,” Patricia answered, glancing over at her. “I expect it will be shortly.”

“I see,” Shun nodded, apparently satisfied. Interesting; he wondered if that was instinctual. Most people would ask more questions, but she apparently just accepted the word of her superior.

“XCOM responds to most of alien sightings or abductions,” he explained for her benefit. “As soon as one is spotted, a squad is formed and immediately sent off. That’s why information is distributed so late.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Thank you, Soran.”

“One of the new ones, I see,” Eden commented cheerfully. “Welcome to XCOM, if no one has before. I’m Eden.”

“Shun Anwei,” she answered cautiously. “And thank you.”

“So what unit are you from?” Karl asked, resting his laser sniper rifle against his knee. “Military or special forces?”

“An MSS agent,” Shun answered slowly.

“Huh, never heard of it,” Pete commented. “Well, can’t know all of them. Welcome anyway.”

“Same,” Eden affirmed.

Despite the semi-warm welcomes from them, Soran didn’t fail to note Karl and Patricia eyeing the young Chinese agent after that. Even if Pete and Eden didn’t know or care, a KSK agent and…what was Patricia anyway? Regardless, both clearly knew what the MSS stood for, especially when the Chinese flag was emblazoned on Shun’s collar.

Fortunately, they didn’t feel the need to comment or question it. It was definitely interesting to observe how military and intelligence personnel were treated differently by soldiers. There were already several Chinese soldiers in XCOM and they seemed to have assimilated quite well at least from what he’d seen.

And yet here came a woman from an intelligence agency and suddenly that was suspicious. She was fighting against several stereotypes here, but the biggest one was clearly her nation. Especially when contrasting with a now-deceased XCOM operative who’d _also_ come from an intelligence background: Mira Vauner.

She was now something of a hero in XCOM, although pretty much everyone who’d died in the Dreadnought mission was considered as such. But in reading and listing about her, she’d come from a branch that, at least originally, was designed for the sole purpose of assassination. To him, it seemed far worse to be associated with something like that than a regular intelligence agency like the MSS.

But of course, the reason was that Israel was normally regarded as a ‘good’ country, and thus its soldiers would be assumed to be such as well. China did not share that same courtesy. He didn’t consider it fair or right, but it was interesting to watch all the same. Hopefully they’d stop worrying it about it soon.

_“This is the Commander to Raptor Team,”_ the voice of the Commander came through their helmets. _“You’re en route to Newfoundland. Intel from the Council has shown that one of the ports responsible for a large part of seafood distribution in North America has gone silent. Your objective is to go secure the area and wipe out any aliens as quickly as possible.”_

“Do we have anything on numbers or forces?” Patricia asked.

_“No, but I would expect a force of at least fifteen to twenty. Also be aware that this might be another trap by EXALT.”_

Soran grimaced. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? But at least this time they’d be somewhat prepared. They also wouldn’t box themselves in. Patricia learned from the mistakes of previous missions, if there was anyone who wouldn’t repeat such a mistake, it would be her.

“Should we expect civilian contact?” Karl asked, leaning back.

_“Possible, but that doesn’t affect your mission parameters,”_ the Commander answered. _“From previous abductions, I would be surprised if the aliens leave any civilians alive. This is not a rescue mission and will not be treated as such.”_

“Understood, Commander,” Karl nodded.

_“It would be preferable not to cause too much destruction to the equipment there,”_ the Commander advised. _“The production is going to take a hit regardless, but damaged equipment isn’t going to help. But not at the expense of your lives. Got it?”_

“Yes, Commander,” Patricia answered with a sharp nod.

_“Then good luck. Citadel Command, out.”_

A few seconds went by. _“This is Big Sky to Raptor Team. We’re approaching the landing zone in two minutes. Prepare for landing and deployment.”_

A ground deployment, well it’d been awhile since that’d happened. “Understood Big Sky,” Patricia confirmed. “We’ll be ready.”

The lights flashed to a solid red and Patricia stood and walked to the end in preparation for the landing. Eden took her side and Karl and Pete stood behind her. Soran and Shun stood behind them. Shun fiddled with her weapon, a prototype from engineering that seemed to be some kind of hybrid of a sniper rifle and regular rifle. A Strike Rifle, it was officially called.

The weapon seemed rather unwieldy, but then again, he wasn’t trained to use it. More power to her if she could use it. He’d stick with his laser rifle now. The skyranger shook as it landed and the ramp opened with a hiss and then a crack as it hit concrete.

“Deploy!” Patricia ordered and they charged out to reclaim the port.

***

_Canada, Newfoundland_

The silence was even more pronounced than usual. Soran wasn’t sure, but he thought that the gentle lapping of the waves hitting the docks probably had something to do with it. It seemed to draw attention to the fact that the place was a ghost town.

“We’re on the ground,” Patricia informed Citadel Command. “Preparing to move forward.”

_“Copy that,”_ the voice of Bradford confirmed. _“We have satellite footage over the area. We’ll notify you if we see anything.”_

“Understood,” Patricia answered, raising her autolaser as she prepared to march forward. “Karl, take the roof and begin overwatch.”

“Understood, Overseer,” Karl nodded and began climbing one of the shipping crates and used that to leap onto the roof. Taking a knee, he raised his laser sniper rifle and began scanning the area.

The whole shipping port was highly claustrophobic and contained. If they got caught in the wrong place, it would be a death trap. There were so many places to hide and set an ambush it wasn’t even funny. The majority of the buildings weren’t large, mostly smaller warehouses and a couple dilapidated-looking offices.

That was mostly to the left and in front of them. Several shipping containers also sat out in the open. _“Overseer, just past this warehouse is a marketplace area,”_ Karl informed. _“Nothing spotted yet, but it would be a good place to defend. Several of the stands have roofs that we could use as sniper nests.”_

“Awfully convenient,” Pete muttered. Soran had to agree.

“We could get trapped in here easily,” he warned Patricia, raising his rifle in anticipation.

“I know,” she answered, sounding oddly distracted. “But we have to move forward.”

Soran looked to the right, where the water and docks were. Crates of seafood and sailing supplies lined the docks, some haphazardly tipped over. Several ships were docked as well, nothing large, just the ones specializing in fishing. Although he _did_ see a barge at the far end, but it appeared likewise abandoned.

“We’ll have a better chance of surviving an ambush if we take the docks,” Soran said. “There are too many choke points here.”

“I’m not convinced it isn’t _too_ appealing,” Patricia murmured. “We’ll take our time and advance _slowly_.” She motioned towards the docks. “Eden, Pete, move alongside the docks. Soran, Shun and I will begin clearing the warehouses.”

Eden nodded. “Understood, Overseer. We’ll wait before advancing further.”

 “Excellent,” Patricia nodded. “Everything clear, Karl?”

_“Clear for the moment, Overseer.”_

“Soran, Shun, take the left side,” Patricia ordered as she moved to the right side of the warehouse door. While he steadied himself on the corner of the door, Shun took the opposite corner and raised her weapon as she watched the side. Patricia had let her autolaser rest on the ground by the barrel as she’d placed her forearm on the wall for some reason.

He frowned and considered asking if she was fine when she apparently snapped out of it and knelt down and hooked her fingers under the door and gave an experimental lift **.** It wasn’t locked, so she motioned for him to do the same. He did, and began counting down. Three…two…one.

They lifted at exactly the same time and raised their weapons to…

Nothing.

The warehouse was empty, only a few crates and fishing nets occupied the floor. “As I thought,” Patricia muttered, raising her autolaser. “Advance **,** ” she muttered and they went through the warehouse. As they walked Soran suddenly froze as a thought occurred to him.

Patricia hadn’t given him any signal she was counting down…and yet they’d acted in perfect harmony. So if she hadn’t given him a signal…how…? And what did _that_ mean? _Just like I thought._

She expected nothing? And she was _right_?

“Take position,” Patricia ordered as she took the right of the warehouse entrance. Soran took the left and Shun knelt behind a crate and aimed her weapon towards the middle of the door, in case anything was directly on the other side.

Patricia knelt down again and hooked her fingers under the door and Soran copied her again, trying not to think about what he was doing. As if by instinct, he and Patricia lifted in perfect harmony, again revealing nothing.

“Anything, Eden?” Patricia asked, as she swept the immediate area with her autolaser.

_“Negative, Overseer,”_ Eden answered. _“Hey Karl, take a look at that barge over there.”_

_“On it,”_ he answered.

Soran looked forwards and understood what Karl had meant about a marketplace. There were around six stands, each with various seafood he assumed was being sold. Some had some wrinkled steel walls, and some were just posts that secured the roof. And as he took a look at the roofs, he understood why they had short walls. They were clearly used as another means of storage.

Fortunately, the area was fairly open, allowing plenty of maneuverability. Patricia pointed forward and they moved towards one of the stands. Shun started climbing onto the roof and he and Patricia stayed put until she was in position.

_“This area is clear,”_ she confirmed.

_“Overseer, they definitely did something to that barge,”_ Karl updated from the warehouse roof. _“Part of the hull is busted open.”_

Soran and Patricia exchanged a look. “Were they after something else?” Soran wondered, curious.

“Central, you know if there was anything unusual being brought in?” Patricia asked.

_“Checking the import lists now,”_ Bradford answered tensely. _“The only barge that was supposed to come in today was just a whaling vessel. Nothing of import.”_

“Then I guess we should check it out,” Soran suggested. “We might find something.”

“Possible,” she muttered. “Something seems off here. We should have encountered _something_ by now.”

“Maybe they left?” Soran suggested.

“Perhaps,” she sounded unconvinced. “But that would be a first. They usually at least leave some kind of token force for us to fight.”

_“Maybe they don’t want to waste their forces anymore,”_ Shun suggested. _“If the result is usually a loss, it makes sense not to keep it up, right.”_

“The thing is that aliens haven’t really used that kind of logic,” Patricia pointed out. “But perhaps you’re right. Still, Soran’s idea is good, we should check the barge.”

_“There’s two stalls that overlook the docks area,”_ Karl pointed out. _“Shun and I can keep an eye out while you move in.”_

“Good idea,” Patricia agreed. “Move there and Soran and I will regroup with Pete and Eden.”

_“Copy that_ ,” Eden confirmed. _“Holding position until you arrive.”_

Karl lowered himself from the roof and Shun slid down the ladder to join him. Both of them went over to the right row of stalls and Karl took the middle one while Shun took the furthest one down.

_“In position, area clear.”_ Karl confirmed as he scanned the area, sniper rifle raised.

_“Copy,”_ Shun agreed as she did the same.

“Keep watch,” Patricia ordered. “We’ll be advancing shortly.” She turned towards the right and took the path that led down to the docks. Soran followed close behind, keeping his back to her to make sure no one came from behind. Once they’d descended down the small flight of steps, he turned around as they approached Pete and Eden.

“Forward,” Patricia muttered. _“Slowly.”_

They advanced at a methodical pace, their fingers on the triggers just waiting for _something_ to happen. The wood creaked under their boots as they walked under the slick wood. They were approaching the last fishing ship before the barge, and now Soran could clearly see the gaping hole big enough for a truck that was torn into its side.

It wasn’t clean or symmetrical in any way. It was if some animal had torn into it, or ripped into it with all the delicacy of a bull. Inside was pitch black, a black hole that showed him nothing.

“You know, I didn’t know shark hunting was so popular here,” Eden muttered as they passed a post. Soran only now just noticed that the corpses of sharks were hanging off of them. In fact, there were several more at random places around the docks. “In fact, isn’t that illegal?”

“Depends on the part of the world,” Soran shrugged. “I know it’s illegal in Japan, but apparently not here.”

“Kinda sad,” Pete commented, as he stared up at one of the carcasses. “I rather like sharks.”

“Quiet!” Patricia hissed as she raised a fist. “You hear that?”

Everyone went silent and Soran concentrated hard. Yes, there was definitely something coming from within the barge. Something tapping on metal and wood, what sounded like a faint clicking.

“That’s not good,” he breathed.

“ _Hold!_ ” Patricia snarled and swung her rifle around. “There’s something else here.”

Before any of them could begin to ask what, Patricia unloaded a barrage of laser fire into the shark carcass. The hissing of the laser breaking the silence spectacularly. Soran heard a faint screech and watched in fascination as the embryo of a chryssalid fell onto the ground.

The alien animal wasn’t fully formed yet, it was still curled into a fetal position, though it appeared to have it’s claws and jaws. A white sap covered it, but it was clear that it was growing at an incredible rate.

“Chryssalids,” Soran hissed. “And if there’s one…”

“I think you just let them know we’re here.” Eden murmured as the sound of chryssalid screeches began filling the air, coming from the barge.

Patricia turned her autolaser and blasted another shark corpse. “Get ready!” She snarled. “They’re coming!”

Sure enough, six chryssalids charged out of the hole, hopping out of the jagged metal. Snarling with saliva dripping from their jaws, they charged the four. “Laser field!” Patricia ordered, firing into the group.

The three of them fired sustained lasers at the group, moving their weapons in different directions and were rewarded with the screams of pain from the aliens as they collapsed to the ground, missing bodies and limbs.

Streaks of red light rained down from Karl and Shun, who put the surviving chryssalids out of commission. Not a few seconds later, several more charged out, ignoring their fallen brethren and charged across the docks to them.

Two were taken out by Karl and Shun, while Soran severed the head of the final one and it fell to the ground unceremoniously. He eyed the hole where more were probably going to come out as he reloaded. “Let’s hope it stays like this,” Pete muttered as he reloaded.

Another four jumped out and charged their position. Pete sniped one, while two were blasted back by Patricia. Two thin beams rained down on the last one, hitting its leg and head. Soran glanced up to see Shun had fired the shots. She was definitely an excellent shot.

_“Behind you!”_ Shun yelled and Soran whipped his head back around to see chryssalids leaping up from behind Karl. Shun desperately shot at the encroaching aliens, and managed to kill two, but not before another chryssalid sank its jaws into Karl’s throat and ripped it out. Shun sniped it, but more were already coming towards her.

“Fall back!” Patricia ordered, as more chryssalids came pouring out of the barge. “Regroup!”

Shun leapt down, the chryssalids in hot pursuit of her. Soran shot one that leapt at her and severed the front legs of another, leaving it screaming in agony.

“They just keep coming!” Pete shouted as more kept coming out. They were going to get overwhelmed. Even altogether, they couldn’t stand up against an onslaught of at least twelve chryssalids.

Patricia swung her autolaser in a wide arc, letting loose a barrage of laser fire. “Focus!” She snarled. Soran wasn’t sure if that was addressed to him or not. But he raised his rifle, focused in on the approaching chryssalids and fired. Without thinking he moved to the next one and did the same.

Blinking as he looked at the pile of corpses in front of them, he realized that they’d killed all the charging chryssalids within a few seconds. What the…? He glancing over at Patricia and his eyes widened as he saw an almost transparent distortion around her. Was that…?

Not the time. More were coming. A roar that seemed to shake the ground echoed throughout the area. Soran watched in disbelief as the largest chryssalid he’d ever seen stepped out of the barge.

Almost as tall as the damned barge, the massive chryssalid was a deeper shade of purple than its smaller brethren, and seemed to have a more developed head. Its eyes were not the pure yellow orbs, but instead pure white. It’s clattering of teeth echoed loudly across the docks as it looked at the tiny humans before it.

“Citadel Command, institute the Zeus Contingency,” Patricia stated, sounding oddly calm. “This area is compromised.”

_“Copy that,”_ the Commander affirmed. _“Get out of there.”_

More chryssalids, this time at least fifteen leapt out and converged under the massive chryssalid. Was this some kind of breeder? Did chryssalids even need them? More were coming along the sides, leaping off the warehouse roofs and were promptly shot down as the squad retreated.

Soran blasted two more in the face, and hissed as two more chryssalids charged in from the front. Faced with overwhelming numbers on two fronts, it was inevitable that some would slip through the cracks.

“Pete!” He shouted as he tried getting a bead on the aliens.

Pete leapt back as a chryssalid claw barely missed him. Said chryssalid was promptly shot by Shun, who gave him a quick nod and Soran took care of the other one. The skyranger roared overhead as it approached the landing zone. Eden shot two more that were approaching, but Soran’s heart sank as he looked to the barge and saw the creatures _still coming out_.

Where the hell were they coming from?

He turned around as a scream grabbed his attention. Pete had caught his leg in a fishing net and had fallen to the ground. Despite all of them concentrating fire, they weren’t able to kill all the encroaching chryssalids before one stabbed its claws into his arms and ripped out his throat, screeching in triumph.

_“Hold_.” Patricia growled, though again it didn’t seem directed at them. For whatever reason, all the nearby chryssalids stopped and stared at Patricia who held their gaze while the rest of them gunned down the aliens.

“Run!” Patricia ordered. “To the landing zone! Now!” They took off for the last leg of the route. Patricia occasionally turning around to offer strafing fire at the chryssalids that were still approaching. The Queen Chryssalid was also coming, though much slower. As they charged up the ramp to where the skyranger was waiting, the Queen Chryssalid roared and began moving much more earnestly.

The massive claws of the Queen wreaked havoc as they were accompanied by the sounds of splintering wood and shattering crates as she charged as fast as possible, as if knowing they were escaping. All of them charged into the skyranger, still shooting at the chryssalids converging upon them.

As the skyranger took off and the chryssalids screeched as their prey left, Soran dearly hoped that the creatures felt as much pain as possible when the rockets hit. No one deserved to die like that. He wasn’t sure if anything remained inside the soon-to-be reanimated corpses of Karl and Pete, but he hoped they wouldn’t have to suffer too long.

All of them sat in silence as the skyranger sped back to the Citadel, all reflecting on what had happened.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Crystal Giant

_Personnel_

Raptor 1 _(Squad Overseer)_ : Specialist Patricia Trask

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 14

Raptor 2: Specialist Eden Rayna

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 9

Raptor 3: Specialist Karl Lulling

            **Status:** Deceased

**Kills:** 6

Raptor 4: Specialist Pete Chandler

            **Status:** Deceased

**Kills:** 10

Raptor 5: Specialist Soran Kakusa

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 14

Raptor 6: Specialist Shun Anwei

            **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 12

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Jason Olgard – Call sign: “Big Sky”

_Artifacts Recovered:_

None

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Failed Experiments

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

Herman watched as the Commander shut off the video from the armor cams of the soldiers. Despite the retreat, he wasn’t sure if he, or the Commander, would really count this as a _defeat_. True, they’d had to pull out but that had clearly been some kind of chryssalid breeding ground the aliens had set up. There was no way that would be taken out conventionally with only six soldiers, even XCOM ones.

Well, maybe if the Commander had a few more of those MECs, the outcome might be different. Speaking of which, _that_ particular project needed to be discussed. Though not at the moment.

“We’re going to have to find some new soldiers,” Bradford sighed sadly. “At this rate losing one or two per mission isn’t helping our roster.”

“I have some lined up,” the Commander answered absentmindedly. “We’ll have more shortly.”

Herman rested his hands on the holotable. “I assume this is the first time they’ve set up a breeding ground like this?” He looked around questioningly. “At least I assumed that’s what it was.”

“It couldn’t have been anything else,” Van Doorn agreed. “Not with how many were attacking.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded, turning back to the holotable. “Though I wonder if these chryssalids differed from the ones we’ve fought before. Vahlen said that chryssalids have a genetic timer that kills them after an hour or so, and I highly doubt all of those were newborns.”

“That…Queen was probably the source,” Van Doorn suggested. “Perhaps the aliens had a few in captivity to use for such a purpose. It would follow that the offspring would retain the same lifespan.”

“Makes sense,” Herman agreed. “Hopefully they don’t have too many of those.”

“I’m sure they have as many as they need,” the Commander noted with a resigned glance towards the holotable. “They might be able to just clone another one. But at least we’ve prevented an outbreak.”

“Yes…” Herman agreed slowly. “Though I don’t think the Council is going to be happy with you razing the port.”

“Not if they’re smart,” the Commander shrugged noncommittally. “There was no other solution. Overwhelming force was the only other alternative and hundreds would die before that nest was destroyed. Much safer and more efficient with an airstrike.”

“I agree,” Herman nodded. “But I’m warning you that the Council may not see it that way.”

The Commander looked predictably displeased at that notion, though not entirely unsurprised. “Then that is their own fault.”

Herman could guarantee that sentiment was not going to win any favors. In this case though, the Commander was right. Razing the port was the best solution and two soldiers had died to ensure that the surrounding regions were safe. True, it wasn’t an ideal outcome, but it was far better than the alternative.

“A shame we couldn’t have gotten a visual on the nest itself,” the Commander muttered, more of as an afterthought. “It might shed some more light on how they reproduce naturally.”

“Vahlen would be very interested in that,” Bradford agreed. “But we’d have to find some safe way of non-explosive neutralization.”

Chemical weapons was the obvious choice, and that was probably going to be the Commander’s first answer. Perhaps the most effective, but not the safest or even best means. “Perhaps an air-dispensed sedative?” Herman suggested quickly, glancing over at the Commander. “Has that been tested?”

“No,” the Commander answered, giving him a nod of approval. “I’ll speak to Vahlen about the viability of implementing that. Though I’d prefer we test it in a controlled environment. Not in the field.”

“Perhaps if Vahlen has a breakthrough on her chryssalid project?” Van Doorn suggested off-handedly. “Provided it’s successful, we could test it on her grown-“

“ _What_ chryssalid project?” Herman demanded incredulously. It was clearly a slip-up by Van Doorn, but if they were actually _growing_ these things…

“Don’t get too upset,” the Commander interrupted wearily, clearly anticipating his completely justified reaction. “Vahlen’s conducting research on chryssalid reproduction. Provided it’s successful, we might develop a way to counteract or kill the egg implanted in the body. And yes, this _will_ most likely involve growing a chryssalid in some fashion.”

Well, that was better. “And just _how_ are you going to grow a chryssalid?” Herman asked. “Why do you even need to in the first place? Couldn’t you just experiment on the egg itself and test ways to kill it _without_ risking an outbreak?”

“In a vat, of course,” the Commander answered neutrally, eyeing him oddly calmly. “Ideally, I’d prefer testing on a human subject. A prisoner if that makes you feel any better. But since the UN and you would likely have… _issues_ …with that line of research, vat grown will suffice. As for why? You’d have to ask Vahlen that, she could answer better than I.”

Herman furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you certain it’s really necessary? Because I wouldn’t put it past Vahlen to perform a procedure like this just to prove it can be done.”

“She most certainly would,” the Commander agreed immediately. “But she wouldn’t do anything to impede XCOM’s progress or risk our lives. And if that _is_ her motive? I have no issue with it, provided it doesn’t interfere with more important matters.”

Which was exactly what he was afraid of. No wonder the Commander retained such loyalty if he let his subordinates do whatever they wanted. The thing was, he didn’t know if this was some tactic the Commander used to gain their loyalty, or if he genuinely believed it. He could see it go either way, and it was likely a combination of the two.

Hmm. How best to illustrate that letting Vahlen do whatever she wanted was probably _not_ a good idea? Because taking the obvious path of “ _Look at what she’s done before!”_ would probably backfire, as the Commander was likely aware of Vahlen’s past works. He might even support it. Playing to efficiency was probably a safer bet.

“While I respect the autonomy you allow her,” Herman finally said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible. “Wouldn’t it be better for XCOM if she was solely focused on approved projects and her side activities lessened until the war is over?”

“Except that all her work _does_ relate to the alien threat in some way,” Bradford pointed out slowly. “She’s not going off on random tangents or unrelated theoretical studies. Even if we can’t see it now, her unofficial work might come in handy later.”

“Exactly,” the Commander nodded. “The Sectoid virus is a result of one of her side activities. I think we’d all agree that something practical came out of that line of research.”

Of course it was, and that was the problem. Because Vahlen didn’t stop once she reached a certain point; should something capture her interest, she would take it as far as she was allowed. His main fear of Vahlen continuing her chryssalid experiments, was that the next step was growing chryssalid soldiers to use against the aliens. As ludicrous as that idea was, Vahlen might be able to make it happen, and then would probably want to actually _use_ them. There was no conceivable way that could end well.

Well, he had to hope if something like that ever _did_ get brought up that everyone would do the sensible thing and kill that idea before it got any legs. In the meantime, the only thing he could really do is offer his perspective, as outnumbered as he was here.

Bradford had his hand up to his ear, clearly listening to someone on his headset. With a nod, he lowered it and turned to the Commander. “We have an incoming call from the Council.”

The Commander cocked his head at Bradford. “That was fast.”

“I don’t think they were expecting us to blow the port,” Bradford suggested with a shrug. “Should I have them patched through now?”

“Might as well,” the Commander answered, pursing his lips. “Best to get this over with.”

Ah, this was going to definitely be a productive meeting. In all seriousness, Herman was interested to see how things played out from the perspective of the Commander. Having spoken with councilors and the Speaker, he suspected that the Council would retain the secrecy it showed when dealing with the Commander.

The Commander stood in front of the screen, Bradford and Van Doorn flanking him while Herman sort of stood behind Van Doorn, feeling like in an unwelcome accessory. But the fact that the Commander was letting him listen in meant he was slowing gaining ground. Best to take the victories when you could.

The screen flashed and revealed a silhouetted bald man, shadowed in cold blue light. Well, it was a lot more dramatic than he’d expected. He’d thought that the Council would like to keep itself anonymous, but not the Speaker. And _certainly_ not by using a painfully stereotypical poorly lit room. Even still, something about it _did_ seem to just…work.

“Speaker,” the Commander greeted, inclining his head. “I presume the Council wants an update.”

 _“Correct, Commander,”_ the Speaker answered, his voice almost the same except for some synthesizing. It definitely added to the dramatic presentation. _“The Council was not expecting the port to be…destroyed. They would like an…explanation, to put it lightly.”_

“Of course,” the Commander nodded. “We deployed a squad to the port thanks to the information the Council provided. Unfortunately, the port was overrun with chryssalids, we believe the aliens had established a nest which was guarded by…let’s say a much larger chryssalid. We lost two soldiers and simply didn’t have the forces to take on potentially hundreds of aliens. The only responsible solution was to leave and raze the area to prevent an outbreak,” the Commander paused. “As I’m sure the Council agrees, a chryssalid outbreak would be nothing short of a disaster. Far more so than the destruction of a shipping port.”

Interesting. The Commander was being rather cordial, which in retrospect, wasn’t that surprising. The Commander was a professional, and likely wouldn’t get too emotional when dealing directly with the Council. Still, he could detect nothing really hostile in the Commander’s tone, although that last line was definitely loaded. But it didn’t seem directed at the Speaker himself.

 _“I see,”_ the Speaker nodded, as he clasped his hands together. _“While you no doubt did what you believed was prudent…the Council would prefer that you refrain from such drastic measures in the future without consulting them first.”_ It was interesting that the Speaker didn’t sound entirely…pleased? With what he said. His tone was still as neutral of ever, but Herman got the distinct impression he wasn’t happy.

Neither was he, for that matter. Still, he wanted to hear the Commander respond before making a comment. “There wasn’t time,” the Commander explained calmly, his lips twitching. “Had I waited for your approval, the chryssalids could have dispersed and spread, rendering the strike useless. It was an unnecessary risk.”

“ _But a majority of the Council does believe protocols should be followed,”_ the Speaker answered. _“And they consider ordering airstrikes as something that permission should be required for, regardless of the circumstances. They would like to remind you that XCOM, and you, ultimately answer to them.”_

“Of course, how could I forget?” The Commander answered, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Speaker, had I not ordered the airstrike and an outbreak had occurred, the Council would no doubt also pin that failure on me as well. I would also like to remind the Council that they are not dictating the course of this war, _I_ am. That is why you installed me, is it not?”

That was blunter than Herman would have put it, but he couldn’t really fault the Commander in this instance. Whatever councilors were behind this were acting like children just looking for a fight. “Speaker, I stand by the Commander’s decision in this case,” he said, stepping forward. “An airstrike was militarily the only responsible course of action. For anyone to say otherwise would mean they are ignoring the facts, knowingly or otherwise.”

“There is a consensus,” Van Doorn agreed. “I would advise the Council to consult their own military advisors for what they would have done in this situation.”

“The area was clear of civilians,” the Commander added. “The only casualties were alien.”

The Speaker was silent for a few moments. _“The Council sees your…point…Commander. This will be…overlooked…this time. But the Council cannot guarantee the same should there be a repeat. There may be consequences in the future.”_

“Duly noted,” the Commander answered coldly. “Though I am curious, just how many councilors feel this way?”

While he could understand the motivation, Herman doubted the Speaker would answer in a satisfactory way. _“Ten countries,”_ the Speaker answered. _“This issue spearheaded by the councilor of Canada.”_

Herman blinked. That…was a lot more specific than he’d expected. While he knew the Speaker was supposed to be neutral and answer questions on both sides, he expected such questions that dealt with the Council directly to be avoided at best or refused at worst. Very interesting, and going off how none of them seemed surprised, he figured that the Speaker’s candor wasn’t unprecedented.

“Thank you, Speaker,” the Commander answered, some of the ice in his voice thawing. “Please convey to Councilor Meredith of Canada that I did not intend to damage a vital part of the Canadian economy. That being said, please also convey that I will not blindly follow the orders of a man who has never served in the military a day in his life. You may also convey that point to the rest of the Council.”

The Commander nodded at Bradford who ended the call.

Herman blinked, the last few seconds still processing through his mind. Oddly enough, the second most prominent thought in his mind was that the Commander also seemed to have a knack for the dramatic, since that ending couldn’t have been better timed.

The most prominent being that the Commander knew the name of a Councilor, and if he knew one…

“How did you know his name?” Herman demanded.

“Councilor Ali Ennor,” the Commander answered, deadpan. “We had a nice chat and he told me all the names of the countries that have been causing trouble.”

Herman scowled. “It was a serious question, Commander. I’d ask that you answer as such.”

“Fine,” the Commander turned directly to face him. “What you just saw was more or less what I’ve had to deal with ever since I’ve started. Instead of sitting back and taking it, I decided to find out exactly who I was dealing with. Thanks to some mutual friends, I know everyone on the Council, and will be updated of any changes should they panic and replace everyone **.** ” His eyes bored humorlessly into Herman’s, the Commander’s tone growing much harder. “ _How_ I acquired these names is none of your concern, suffice to say that I broke none of your laws to see it accomplished.”

He hadn’t expected the Commander to give a detailed answer, but he wasn’t walking away from this without something. “Leave out names if you want,” Herman conceded. “But if you could learn the names, others could. This poses a security risk, not just to the Council, but to XCOM as well. Because if someone could get to the Council, they could also learn the identities of certain people within XCOM.”

The insinuation was clear, but surprisingly, the Commander gave a wry smile. “Have no fear, Representative. The method of acquisition will not be replicated by anyone else. You have my assurance on that.”

Herman pursed his lips. “Then I hope the Council feels the same way, since I am obligated to report this.”

“Go right ahead,” the Commander nodded. “Ennor will believe you at least.”

That seemed an odd endorsement, but he’d sort it out later. “I’ll leave you to your work,” he finally said. “But after I speak with the Council, we have some…other matters to discuss.”

“That we do,” the Commander agreed, turning to the holotable. “Give your report to the Council. We’ll speak after.”

With that, Herman turned away, wondering just how best to handle this situation.

***

“I wouldn’t have been quite as blunt,” Van Doorn stated once Herman had left. “Antagonizing him is not going to help, regardless of how justified it is.”

The Commander snorted. “That was not _antagonizing_ , he asked and I answered. Just not to his satisfaction.”

“I agree,” Bradford nodded. “I doubt this will change his opinion overmuch. I’m more concerned about you revealing your knowledge of the councilors names. Was that really a wise move?”

“It’ll distract them,” the Commander explained as he picked up his tablet and began typing. “Aside from that, it’ll make them more wary about what we actually know. The ones against me will no doubt blame the other side who will push back against that. The immediate outcome is that the Council will be focused internally and _not_ on us.”

“Unless Ennor decides to reveal your meeting,” Van Doorn pointed out.

“That would help us more than him,” the Commander answered noncommittally as he kept typing. “He has no proof, not to mention he’s made his opposition to me _very_ public. “Revealing” our meeting would not only look fabricated, but desperate as well.”

Bradford rested his hands on the holotable. “Let’s hope things play out smoothly then. We also need to decide our plans for Russia soon too.”

“Vahlen, Shen and Zhang are on their way up now,” the Commander informed, setting the tablet down. “There are some things we need to discuss, Russia being among them.”

Van Doorn glancing over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something else has come up?”

The Commander’s lips twitched. “You could say that, but I don’t want to explain it twice.”

“Should we be optimistic or worried?” Bradford asked consciously as he adjusted his headset.

“More optimistic,” the Commander suggested. “But being cautious in this case doesn’t hurt.”

“In the meantime, we should decide what we’re going to do with our EXALT friend,” Van Doorn said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I would prefer we use this opportunity to influence the Council and turn him over, since there’s little I believe we can learn from him.”

“Jackson’s still working on the computer,” Bradford added, picking up his own tablet. “Though as we suspected, it was wiped and she’s trying to salvage what she can.”

“So we probably won’t gain anything,” the Commander sighed. “Van Doorn, we still don’t know much about EXALT except that they’re powerful and widespread. Even something as simple as names can be useful.”

“Let’s hope he talks,” Van Doorn muttered. “It’ll get messy otherwise.”

“Zhang has Ruth working on him,” the Commander reminded him. “We’ll know how susceptible to pain he is when I go down there. Which I plan to do today.”

“Perhaps we can press him on the Solaris connection,” Bradford suggested, glancing at the Commander. “Although, we really don’t have anything to incentivize him to cooperate with us.”

“Which is a problem,” the Commander admitted. “This will be one of more challenging ones if he’s resistant to pain.”

“What do you plan to do if that’s the case?” Van Doorn asked.

“If we can’t get anything, I’ll give him to Vahlen as another test subject,” the Commander answered neutrally. “At the rate she’s going through them, it might actually be more beneficial that way.”

“Speaking of that, I would check up on her progress,” Bradford suggested slowly, his tone becoming concerned. “I spoke with one of the scientists. It seems Vahlen isn’t exactly being…how should I put this… _considerate_ with the test subjects.”

The Commander gave him the most unimpressed look he could muster. “ _Really_. And this should be concerning _why_? If I wanted them to be comfortable, I wouldn’t have put them with Vahlen, would I?”

“I’m saying that you should check up on her,” Bradford defended. “There is a line between uncomfortable and sadistic. And Vahlen might not recognize when that line is crossed.”

He debated contesting why he should care further, as he had a few thoughts on that particular subject. But it would really accomplish nothing except an unnecessary debate. He fully intended to go down and see Vahlen any, and if anything, he was more curious what she’d done in the weeks since he’d had her start.

The doors hissed open and Zhang and Shen walked through, and both quickly took their place opposite him at the holotable. “Anything new with our prisoner?” The Commander asked Zhang.

“Ruth and Abby are working him now,” Zhang answered emotionlessly as clasped his hands behind his back. “Initial testing seems to indicate that he’s trained in at least some interrogation resistance. However, how extensive it is has yet to be determined.”

That was good, wearing a subject down was possible, and once he spoke with the soldier in question, he’d know how best to extract the information. “Why do you have Abby working on him?” He asked, more out of curiosity.

“So we know how far he can be pushed, should it come to torture,” Zhang answered neutrally. “Aside from that, she will also prescribe drugs that might be effective to break down his mental barriers. I would suggest we use this opportunity to refine our interrogation methods, since all indications are that this is a fairly low-level operative.”

“Noted,” the Commander nodded. “Though I’d prefer we at least try to interrogate him before using him as a test subject for various techniques. Speaking of which, you might have to compete with Vahlen as she’d no doubt want him for her own work.”

“I’ll discuss it with her, should the interrogation fail,” Zhang agreed. “In the meantime, I presume you requested us up here for a reason.”

“Yes, and once Vahlen arrives we’ll begin,” the Commander answered setting his tablet on the holotable since he wasn’t using it. “I expect she’ll be here shortly.”

“How is Myra doing?” Bradford asked Shen, focusing on the elder engineer.

“She’s coping,” Shen answered with a sigh. “I don’t think she minds, or is bothered by the procedure. But unfortunately, I think some of the possible side effects are manifesting. Namely, emotional and personality degradation outside the suit. She also appears to be suffering some kind of blackouts on occasion, resulting in a low-level manifestation of retrograde amnesia.”

“Can this ever be corrected?” Van Doorn asked quietly, pursing his lips.

“With Myra, unlikely,” Shen admitted. “We’re still trying to determine what areas were affected that strongly by the procedure. I’m not sure we will ever come up with a foolproof solution.”

“At least she isn’t in pain,” Zhang noted grimly. “And also as self-aware as ever. There are worse fates.”

“She understood the risks,” the Commander sighed, feeling a little sad that things hadn’t worked out. But at the very least, Myra’s sacrifice would never be forgotten and might make the procedure safer for future participants. “But I suppose we have no choice but to move on and utilize her as best we can.”

“I’d also be careful who she interacts with,” Shen cautioned, frowning. “One thing that’s been noted with both Myra and our other test subject is that both are highly suggestable to outside suggestion. To some extent, their pasts do influence who they trust and interact with, but they seem to lack the critical thinking skills to see through obvious lies. Someone could go up to Myra with fabricated orders from you and she’d likely believe them.”

“Isn’t that only because they’re disconnected from the suit?” Bradford asked, shifting as he recalled what he knew about the MECs. “Would reconnecting restore their higher brain functions?”

“We’re still working that out,” Shen continued. “But in the meantime, as much as I hate to suggest this, isolation might be the safest thing, security-wise.”

The Commander frowned, not quite sure what to do. He was against the idea on principle, as Myra _was_ still a soldier who still retained some portion of her individuality, and quarantining her simply because she _might_ pose a security risk didn’t sit right with him. The last thing he wanted to do was ostracize her further, even if she didn’t care.

But Shen did have a point, but the main flaw he saw with that argument was that the Citadel was an isolated location, the only people here were XCOM and none would abuse Myra that way. Had XCOM personnel been mixing with various armies, that would be a different story, but just among XCOM? No, no reason to limit her freedom, whatever of it she retained anyway.

“Keep observing her,” the Commander instructed, crossing his arms. “But don’t quarantine her unless there is proof of abuse. I doubt we have much to worry about here.”

Shen actually looked relieved at that. “A good point, Commander. But I though you should be aware.”

“I appreciate that,” the Commander answered sincerely. The door behind Shen hissed open and Vahlen finally walked through, a tablet in her hand.

“Apologies for the wait,” she said hurriedly as she rushed over to take her place beside the Commander. Her hair was put back up, officially signaling she was in her Head Scientist mode. “There were some issues with one of the test subjects.”

“I assume it was resolved?” Van Doorn asked.

“Of course,” she answered, almost sounding offended by the insinuation that it _wasn’t_ resolved.

“How is your genetic modification projects proceeding?” Bradford asked.

Vahlen gave a radiant smile. “Quite well! I’d imagine more practical application could take place within weeks. We’re simply ironing out some minor issues at the moment.”

“I’ll check on that later,” the Commander said, not wanting to begin a long discussion on Vahlen’s work just yet. “In the meantime, we have a few things to discuss.”

“I think we should hear this new development first,” Van Doorn suggested, as he leaned against the wall. “Then move onto Russia.”

“I’m in favor of that,” Bradford agreed. “You’ve kept us in suspense long enough.”

The Commander took a breath. Right, time to do this again. At least he would be able to prove it had happened. “The short version is that I was…contacted…by one of the aliens.”

Zhang frowned, more emotion than usual for him; Shen blinked in surprise while Bradford and Van Doorn both exchanged a look, the faces bearing surprise and concern. “ _How_?” Van Doorn demanded incredulously. “And when?”

“Last night when I was…dreaming,” the Commander continued, not happy with how ludicrous this sounded. “A kind of lucid dreaming if you would.” He raised a hand. “Yes, I know how it sounds, but this did happen. I can prove it.”

Van Doorn eyed him with concern. “Please do.”

“During our talk, the alien somehow transferred the alien language to me,” the Commander continued. “Simply put, I can understand, speak and write it fluently.”

Bradford blinked. “You’re serious.”

The Commander was tempted to make some sarcastic comment, but didn’t think the mood was right. Instead he grabbed his tablet and pulled out a stylus and started writing “[Completely serious, Bradford,]” he continued, speaking the alien language as he wrote. “[I think this should be proof enough.]”

Shen flinched when he started talking and Van Doorn and Bradford’s eyes widened as they listened. Zhang was visibly interested, far more so than concerned. He handed the tablet to Shen. “Any of this look familiar?”

“Yes…” Shen said softly after looking it over. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

Van Doorn snorted. “You could say that about half the stuff we develop,” he shook his head in disbelief at the Commander. “Why would they give you this?”

“A _very_ good question,” the Commander answered, pursing his lips as he exchanged a look with Vahlen. “The alien said it was an ‘experiment’ or could be considered a test. I doubt that’s all though.”

“With this we’ve practically been given the keys to the alien code,” Zhang muttered, not able to keep the amazement out of his voice. “I wonder if they realize what they’ve given us.”

“It’s a rather melodic language,” Vahlen noted absentmindedly as she looked at the Commander. “Fascinating to listen to, far different than what we’ve heard the sectoids or mutons use.”

“I think we’re overlooking exactly what was discussed,” Bradford pointed out. “What did you and the alien discuss?”

“The alien mostly tried to convince me to surrender,” the Commander answered. “He appeared as a thin man, though I doubt that he was _actually_ one. The terms of surrender were surprisingly generous, far more so than I would have expected. Which makes me think this wasn’t a sanctioned discussion. I honestly think this alien was just curious.”

“It must be a leader than,” Zhang guessed. “Otherwise, that is a surprising amount of autonomy that we haven’t seen from the alien forces before.”

“I think the more important question is if you learned anything from the alien,” Van Doorn said, looking down at the holotable. “I don’t suppose he let anything slip.”

“Actually, yes, depending on how reliable we consider him,” the Commander answered, resting his hands on the holotable. “It seems as though this invasion isn’t the alien’s number one priority, though I’m skeptical of that. However, they do seem to control at least a small number of planets, though I couldn’t get more details than that.”

The Commander paused. “As for why the invasion is happening at all, the alien claimed that all this is to…I suppose uplift us, similar to the other species.”

“They certainly have an interesting way of accomplishing that,” Bradford muttered. “There are easier ways.”

“I doubt they expected this to last as long as it has,” the Commander supposed. “We’re putting up a fight, which is more than they expected.”

“I think we should be asking how this happened in the first place,” Shen pointed out, frowning as he looked at the Commander. “I hate to suggest this, Commander, but are you certain the alien is…gone?”

“Not for certain,” the Commander admitted. “But very sure. The alien admitted that he might be able to take control if he wanted too, but I got the impression that it might be more trouble than it’s worth. Regardless, I do want everyone paying attention and making sure I don’t behave…erratically.”

There were nods around the room. “The contact most likely happened psionically,” Vahlen added after a few moments. “As such, I’m going to be reopening dedicated research into that field in the near future.”

“A good plan,” the Commander agreed. “Vahlen, Zhang, I’ll meet with you later and we can begin putting the alien language to use.”

“Jackson would be useful as well,” Bradford reminded him, tapping on his tablet. “She is a lead on the decryption project after all.”

“You think she can be trusted with this?” The Commander asked seriously.

“Yes,” Bradford said without hesitation. “Quite honestly, I’d say she’s earned the right to be here with us.”

“I’ll consider it,” the Commander promised. “But that wraps up the new development.”

“One of the most bizarre to date,” Bradford muttered.

“But also one of the most useful,” Van Doorn reminded him. “Although I’m worried there’s some catch we’re not seeing.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “Which is why we’ll have to proceed carefully. Bradford, it might be a good idea to see if we can acquire a linguist. It would make the organization of this language go quicker.”

“I’ll look into that,” Bradford nodded. “I’m sure we can find one from one of the Council nations.”

“On that note, we move into our second matter,” the Commander said, transitioning to the next topic. “Russia.”

Bradford tapped some buttons on the holotable and a glowing blue map of Russia and the surrounding countries appeared. “I suppose we should actually decide if we want to unofficially ally with them.” Bradford said, straightening up.

“The benefits outweigh the risks,” Zhang stated firmly. “Russian backing would allow us unprecedented financial independence. Not to mention the support of an international superpower.”

“Though following that line of reasoning, it also means much of the independence depends on Russia,” Van Doorn pointed out. “And should Russia be pressed, President Savvin would utilize every advantage.”

“We won’t become reliant on Russia,” the Commander stated firmly. “They would be an ally, nothing more or less. As long as we hold up our end, Russia will not pose any problems.”

“And what if the Council should discover this,” Shen asked worriedly. “I doubt they’d take kindly to Russia of all countries gaining a technological edge.”

“Probably not,” the Commander agreed. “Which is why we’ll have to be extremely careful in picking the countries for Russia to work through.”

“There really isn’t an option, I suppose,” Bradford admitted. “Passing this up would be a massive wasted opportunity.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded firmly, looking each of them in the eye. “Are there objections?”

“Are you certain that we can trust them?” Vahlen asked hesitantly. “Russia hasn’t exactly been a team player, what happens should they fail to follow through?”

“Worst case scenario, we emerge with the alliances of several additional countries, cut off the excess of whatever was supposed to go to Russia, and should they continue, we expose them and emerge as a party that exposed international Russian corruption,” the Commander answered instantly, a small smile on his face. “Russia will not risk themselves like that.”

“Then the next question is where the best place to open alliances are,” Van Doorn said, glancing down and observing the map. “We have to be cautious in choosing where.”

“Yes,” Zhang nodded. “Picking blatant Russian puppets will appear highly suspicious. Moderately sized countries without outright hostility to Russia would be ideal.”

“Ukraine seems to be a good option,” the Commander pointed at the country. “They border Russia and don’t overtly hate each other at the moment. And given that the President practically suggested that to me suggests he has people inside working for him.”

“It’s also a moderately sized country,” Bradford noted. “Opening an alliance wouldn’t attract much suspicion from the Council. Much less provocative than Israel, at any rate.”

“We would also be wise to avoid NATO allied countries,” Van Doorn pointed out. “Many of them specifically joined NATO because they fear Russian influence. It would be significantly harder for Russia to work within them, if not impossible.”

“So that rules out Poland, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania,” the Commander muttered, appraising the map. “The support for Russia in Belarus is high enough it might as well be considered a puppet state, so that’s ruled out.”

“Mongolia might not be a bad choice,” Van Doorn pointed towards the country. “They don’t have many anti-Russian sentiments.”

“That is right by China,” Vahlen pointed out, frowning. “You think the Chinese would be fine with us allying with a nation on their border?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “They wouldn’t, Mongolia is too close to China and at the moment, I don’t want to antagonize them too much yet.”

“Probably a good idea,” Van Doorn agreed. “Though we’re running out of viable countries.”

“Perhaps Armenia?” Zhang suggested pointing to a small country south of Russia. “It’s a stable region and maintains good relationships with their neighbors.”

The Commander appraised the country. “The issue I have with using Armenia is that it’s a very small country. The Council might wonder exactly _why_ we’d ally with someone so…insignificant.”

“Landmass isn’t everything,” Bradford noted. “Israel is a pretty small country and they didn’t mention the size when discussing it with us.”

“To be fair, Israel is something of a special case,” Van Doorn admitted, furrowing his eyebrows. “But perhaps the size of Armenia could be advantageous to us. It’s insignificance may cause the Council to not pay as much attention to it as they should.”

“It’s worth taking a chance,” the Commander nodded to him. “Two countries so far. One more should be enough for Russia to work with.”

“Could Finland be used?” Bradford wondered, as he rubbed his chin. “They’re a moderately sized country.”

“Unlikely,” Van Doorn shook his head. “Russia-Finnish relations aren’t always the best, thanks to Russia invading and annexing them over the centuries. Things are somewhat cool for now, but anti-Russian sentiment is pretty high at the moment.”

“Which would admittedly make it an excellent choice for infiltration purposes,” the Commander said, looking at the country curiously. “No one would ever suspect them of being a proxy.”

“Perhaps I can have some agents look into the current state,” Zhang suggested. “The anti-Russian sentiment can be bypassed; all the Russians need are some sympathetic people in the right places to transfer the tech. It might be worth looking into.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “Send some people in, get names and potential opportunities.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of performing a similar operation like in Germany,” Van Doorn warned, eyeing the Commander warily. “Unlike them, Finland is not under threat of alien control. Manipulating the current government is such a way is us becoming involved in international espionage. For _Russia_ no less.”

“Germany was bad enough,” Shen added, clasping his hands together. “But it did perform it’s purpose. But here we wouldn’t be doing anything except making it easier for another country to grow their influence.”

“I’m not suggesting assassination,” the Commander defended coldly. “There are other ways to remove people in power. But this would be necessary. Russia is an ally and will help us defend Earth. Finland is not, and sometimes, choices have to be made. Operations against other countries were inevitable and we can’t afford to avoid them simply because of our arbitrary political neutrality.”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “XCOM should not become involved in international issues, period. How long until we decide to violently remove countries that either openly refuse to cooperate or are simply not conforming to what we want them to be?”

“That is a completely different topic,” the Commander stated, turning to face Van Doorn. “And one which the exact same arguments would apply. XCOM may not be a political entity officially, but it’s going to change very soon.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Van Doorn stated tightly, narrowing his eyes. “At what point do we draw the line once we become involved?”

Ah yes, the _line_ that liked to get thrown around so often. Implying that one existed for him. The Commander pursed his lips. “We do what is necessary to preserve humanity, General. If that involves becoming involved internationally, then so be it. I will not have XCOM sit by and watch the world burn and not get involved for the sake of _political neutrality_.”

“And what then?” Van Doorn demanded. “You want XCOM to be the new United Nations.”

“No **,** ” The Commander stated flatly. “All I want XCOM to be is the spearhead against the alien threat. A military alliance only. A new United Nations would be ideal, but XCOM is not the right organization to become it.”

“Don’t act like we could stay neutral forever,” Zhang commented, staring pointedly at Van Doorn. “The writing is on the wall and the Council _will_ disband at some point, at which other nations will see us as a threat. We might as well do what we can now to ensure that the world is as unified as possible before it happens.”

The Commander glanced at the three quieter members. “Vahlen, Shen, Bradford? Anything to add here?”

“Van Doorn is right,” Shen stated firmly. “Even if you believe it will happen eventually, XCOM should not be the first to get involved. We have enough to worry about from the Council without the possibility of espionage being discovered.”

Not really a surprise. “We have to consider what will be best in the long run,” Vahlen finally said, tapping her finger on the holotable, her expression hard. “And enabling Russia to support us is better for XCOM and humanity than maintaining our neutrality. Zhang is right. XCOM will have to pick sides in the future and I don’t see it getting easier from here.”

All eyes turned to Bradford, who didn’t look pleased with all the sudden attention. “My position is simple,” he finally said. “XCOM should not become involved in international espionage unless it is absolutely necessary and in this case, Commander, I don’t believe it is. A nation is not being threatened by alien influence, nor is really in danger at all. Interfering would only serve to make it easier for us to maintain a borderline illegal alliance and I don’t believe it’s worth breaking our neutrality over that.”

A stalemate. The first time it had happened in fact. A vote would be split three-three, and as the Commander, technically he _could_ force the decision his way. But he could see their points, and it wasn’t worth alienating Van Doorn, Bradford and Shen over a minuscule nation like Finland.

Better to wait for an incident where it would be much harder for them to defend staying neutral. They would come around, eventually, and then realize that _political_ _neutrality_ was nothing more than an arbitrary restriction imposed by a Council that feared their growing influence.

In an ideal world, XCOM would be apolitical. But they were not in a perfect world. He was charged with defending humanity from extinction, and if that involved forcing the countries in line by force, he would do so, no matter the cost. The independence of one country was nothing compared to the species as a whole.

But that was a discussion for later.

“Very well,” he finally said, clasping his hands behind his back. “We’re at a stalemate if this comes to a vote. So, for the moment, there will be no operations in Finland.”

He saw Shen let out a sigh of relief and the expressions of Van Doorn and Bradford soften as they realized this wasn’t going to be contested any longer. “That being said,” he continued, fixing his gaze on Van Doorn. “We still need another country for Russia. Van Doorn, Zhang, find me one that will be suitable and make sure we don’t have to interfere to make it viable.” He turned to Bradford. “Begin contacting Armenia and Ukraine. I’ll go visit them myself in the near future.”

“Yes, Commander,” all of them affirmed and the Commander let out a sigh, not entirely pleased with how this had gone. “Good. Dismissed.”

***

_The Citadel, Herman’s Quarters_

Herman leaned back in his seat as he waited for the connection to establish. A security breach this potentially dangerous was too much to be swept away like what Tamara would likely recommend. Thus, Ennor was the more responsible bet this time, since he’d at least take it a little seriously.

Though he hopefully wouldn’t go too far, but at least it wouldn’t be ignored. The screen on his laptop flashed and the face of Ali Ennor appeared, expressionless, so Herman couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. _“Representative, I’m pleased you decided to contact me,”_ his voice was much tighter than the first time they’d met. _“I presume something has come up to warrant a meeting so soon after your…”_ he gave a pointed pause. _“Previous meeting with Councilor Tamara.”_

“Yes,” Herman acknowledged, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m unsure that the Council listens in whenever the Speaker and the Commander speak, but you should be aware that the Commander knows the identities of every councilor, and potentially more.”

Ennor’s lip twitched. _“Yes, the Council is very aware and alarmed by the news. I’m pleased you informed us so quickly.”_

Herman inclined his head in thanks. “This is a massive breach, regardless of how he got it. It would be devastating if EXALT or the aliens were to learn as well. You should take this opportunity to redo your security protocols.”

 _“I don’t suppose the Commander told you how he acquire our names?”_ Ennor asked, lacing his fingers together, eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought.

“Not satisfactorily,” Herman answered grimly. “He joked that you gave him the names, but otherwise provided nothing revealing his sources. He assured me that the process wouldn’t be replicated, so take that for what you will.”

Ennor’s face hardened. _“For him to not reveal a breach this dangerous is irresponsible of him, regardless of his “assurances.” The Council may have to impose more restrictions if this gross negligence continues.”_

And _that_ was the exact opposite of what he wanted to accomplish. “Councilor, I would strongly recommend against that,” Herman stated calmly, soothingly. “I’m doing my best to smooth relations, and quite honestly, I was making some headway. But I must say that your childish response to the Newfoundland mission is not reflecting well on you, nor is it making my job easier.”

Ennor rubbed his forehead. _“You’re missing the bigger picture here, Herman,”_ he said wearily. _“Technically, yes, it was the right thing to do militarily. But this is the Commander who’s giving the orders. There needs to be some kind of check to make sure he doesn’t decide to use it against a council nation who gets on his bad side. If the Commander believes we pose a threat to him, he will use whatever tools he has, and quite frankly, the thought of him ordering airstrikes with no oversight is terrifying.”_

“You’re not exactly doing much to dissuade that notion,” Herman stated bluntly. The man needed to wake up before he was killed off by the Commander or his own blind hatred. “I’ve worked with the Commander a bit now, and you’re absolutely right. If you posed a threat to XCOM or humanity, he will do what he can to remove you. So let me ask you this Councilor; are you _trying_ to provoke the Commander?”

 _“We’re trying to ensure that the law is upheld,”_ Ennor responded. _“We’re trying to hold a man accountable for his actions. We’re trying to maintain some kind of integrity in the deteriorating war and yet people still feel the need to jump to the defense of a war criminal.”_

That was most likely directed at him. “You sent me to do a job,” Herman stated, his own voice growing harder. “You either trust my word or you do not. I’ve not reported anything illegal taking place but it seems my word isn’t good when it doesn’t line up with your preconceived notions.”

 _“Perhaps because I misjudged you,”_ Ennor responded, narrowing his eyes. _“I thought we agreed that you would report to me. Yet the first thing you do is instead contact Tamara, a woman who supports the Commander, no matter what he does. She even has the gall to blame this leak on our side.”_

“I’ll contacted Tamara because I thought she would handle the information I received more responsibly,” Herman explained as best as possible. “That is my directive. She delivered my report, did she not?”

 _“She delivered her report, yes,”_ Ennor answered, emphasizing _her_. _“How much she altered or cut out we’ll never know.”_

“That worry could be applied to you as well,” Herman pointed out. “Had I spoken with you, Tamara would have said the exact same thing.”

 _“So I’m curious then,”_ Ennor said, leaning back. _“Why contact me now?”_

“For the same reason I contacted her,” Herman patiently answered. “You will handle this information better than her. This security breach cannot be ignored, and I believe there’s a good chance it would be downplayed had I spoken to her.”

 _“You’re straddling a thin line,”_ Ennor warned. _“You will need to take a stance in the future. Your neutrality, while admirable, will not last nor should it. You will have to decide what kind of XCOM you want defending humanity. One that does whatever it takes to win, no matter the cost; or one unified with integrity, who will win this war with a united world behind them.”_

“I’m not here to be a spokesman for your side or Tamara’s,” Herman responded coldly. “I came as someone who watches, listens and _works with_ XCOM. I have no agenda beyond ensuring the law is kept and the XCOM wins this war. I want the Council and XCOM to work together, not plotting against each other. Neither of you are completely right or wrong, and until something drastic changes, I will fulfill my duty, with or without your approval.”

 _“Your views seem to have changed dramatically from when we first spoke,”_ Ennor noted calmly, appraising Herman. _“That you would be willing to defend him surprises me.”_

“Maybe because he is not my enemy,” Herman answered, frustration creeping into his voice. “The War on Terror is over. You had the chance to punish him for his crimes and instead decided to use him. Times have changed and I can safely say he’s more worried about the aliens than you. Your personal vendetta is childish when compared to our impending enslavement or extinction.”

 _“Forgive me for not being as trusting,”_ Ennor commented sarcastically. _“But you’re naïve to think that the Commander hasn’t devoted time trying to figure out how to remove us.”_

“And you’re naïve to think the Commander is simply going to follow your rules should you pass them,” Herman shot back. “Come to the Citadel sometime. The Commander has the full support of the soldiers. He’s fought alongside them and led them to victory after victory. You greatly overestimate how much influence the Council actually holds here.”

 _“That would change should they learn who he is,”_ Ennor pointed out.

Would it? That was a question the Herman had wondered over the past few days.

And the fact that he no longer knew was worrying. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “At this point, I’m not sure how many would even care.”

 _“I suppose we have different opinions in this case,”_ Ennor noted, as he shifted in his seat. _“Regardless of our difference, I do thank you for bringing this to our attention so swiftly. Don’t forget what I said.”_

The screen went blank, leaving Herman looking at his own reflection.

He looked tired as hell.

“Yeah, you don’t forget mine either **,** ” he muttered at the screen. If things kept escalating, he didn’t see Ennor and the Commander ever settling their differences peacefully. Either Ennor would cause an XCOM civil war, or the Commander would remove Ennor, and by extension, the rest of the Council.

Neither one would be beneficial, and yet he still couldn’t wholeheartedly support Tamara either. Allowing _anyone_ unlimited power was unwise, and the Commander wouldn’t just use that power, he would use it _well_. With no restrictions he could legitimately shape the world however he wished with XCOM as his tool.

Would he do so? It was a distinct possibility, but what worried Herman was that if the Commander did begin to use XCOM more radically, it wouldn’t be because of power, greed, or any regular motivation of a power-mad individual.

Worse, he would do it because he would think he was _right_.

Relations with the Council _had_ to be normalized before they did something turn the Commander from a shaky ally to an enemy. _He_ had to make sure they remained normalized and still remember he had a job to do.

He groaned and leaned back in his chair. This was exactly what he despised about politics. No one was completely right, no one was completely wrong, but both sides refused to cooperate with the other and instead focused on each other instead of the true threat. And he was stuck directly in the middle of it.

On the bright side, he could safely say that this job wasn’t boring.

He sat there for some time, trying to think of ways to improve this situation. A knock on the door distracted him. He glanced over and frowned, he wasn’t expecting anyone. At least he didn’t _think_ he was expecting anyone. “Come in,” he called out half-heartedly. It was tempting just to be silent, but did have a job to do.

The door slid open to reveal the Commander. Herman straightened up immediately, although the Commander no doubt knew he’d been caught off guard. Still, he was _not_ expecting him at this point in time.

“Bad time?” The Commander asked, almost sounding amused, though to Herman, it sounded wearier and resigned.

“No,” Herman shook his head, and relaxed a bit. “I just wasn’t expecting you here. And now for that matter.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander shrugged and took a seat by his bed. “Your meeting go well?”

“As well as can be expected,” Herman sighed, thinking the Commander _didn’t_ need to know the details. “I gave my report and that was that.”

“Good to hear,” the Commander answered, looking aimlessly into the far wall. “Nice when meetings go well.”

He was likely still irritated over the Council’s reaction, which was understandable. “Don’t completely blame the Council,” Herman suggested, trying to see what he can salvage. “They’re civilians. Sometimes we forget that not everyone is like us.”

The Commander fixed him with an intense stare. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“For some of them? Yes,” Herman shrugged. “Not every politician is evil, nor is every military general always right.”

“I do admire your commitment,” the Commander admitted, clasping his hands together. “I sometimes wish I had a country or organization I could actually believe in.”

Herman looked over curiously. “You don’t anymore?”

“I prefer putting my trust in people, not nations,” the Commander answered. “It’s more reliable, and no, I don’t. It’s somewhat ironic, since I practically started the War on Terror _because_ of my country.”

“You’re American, correct?” Herman recalled, his full attention on the Commander. “What changed?”

“I was,” he admitted wearily. “As for what changed? Everything, though very slowly over time. The longer the war continued, I realized I wasn’t fighting just for my country anymore, but for the everyone else. Then came the Vice President and of course it culminated with my little chase with the US military. I suppose what I got out of it was that the United States was the same as every single government. They aren’t driven by intelligence, logic or justice, but by emotion, money and power.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I may have been born in America, but I no longer consider myself one of them. I’m a soldier, and that will never change.”

He was wondering what had prompted the Commander to say all this. It wasn’t what he’d expected. “I suppose I can’t blame you,” Herman finally answered. “I’d probably feel the same way in your position.”

“It’s interesting how so many people take pride in where they come from,” the Commander continued. “How much does it really matter in the context of the human race?”

“It’s never been a big deal for me,” Herman admitted. “Although I can certainly see why some would have pride in their country. America, England, Russia, China, all have made contributions to the world and I don’t see why their citizens shouldn’t be proud of that.”

“I can see the point,” the Commander nodded. “But I wonder if that concept hasn’t outgrown itself. Should we win this war, the world will be changed forever. Are we going to go back to the old ways and rivalries we had before this?”

“I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead,” Herman admitted. “There’s enough to worry about in the present.”

“Very true,” the Commander agreed. “Anyway, I believe you wanted to discuss something with me?”

Ah, right. Herman turned his seat to face the Commander. “So, when were you planning on telling me about the MEC?”

“When it was ready,” he answered simply, his face expressionless. “There are quite a few projects going on that will not work out. The MEC was one of them. Besides, having seen it you might have raised objections that I didn’t want to deal with.”

“Namely you amputating the limbs of your pilot,” Herman stated. “I suppose it’s fortunate the procedure went well.”

“Both Vahlen and Shen worked extremely hard to make it as safe as possible,” the Commander stated, his tone hard. “I don’t like risking the lives of my soldiers unnecessarily. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“So she was the _only_ one?” Herman asked skeptically. “You didn’t test this on any before her?”

“No,” the Commander stated firmly. “No soldiers were tested or experimented upon. The Council tends to frown on that.”

“Which you clearly care so much about,” Herman commented sarcastically. “But if you would, I would like your files on the MEC project and any other…potentially controversial projects you have going. It worked out this time, but keeping me in the dark is not going to improve your standing with the Council.”

“And wouldn’t that be a tragedy,” the Commander muttered. “You do your job well, and I believe you’re trying your best in this situation. But I doubt it’s going to improve, and no matter how much I cooperate, it will never be enough.”

“But that can change,” Herman insisted. “I think that you don’t want trouble with the Council any more than I, but like it or not, the burden is on you to maintain the relationship. You do have much to answer for and some council nations will always be suspicious. Keep cooperating and things will change.”

The Commander humphed. “We’ll see,” he said, standing. “I’ll send you the files on the MECs. Perhaps you’ll have some suggestions of your own. But I appreciate the talk. Until next time.” With that, the Commander exited the room, leaving Herman alone again.

Despite what he’d told the Commander, he could help but think the Commander was right in that things weren’t going to improve. But that just meant he had to work harder to keep relations cordial, since if he failed, people would die.

Of that, he was certain.

***

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

The Commander strode down the brightly lit hallway. It had been a while since he’d been down here, and it did strike him how little this looked like a place to hold prisoners. If he hadn’t known better, all of them looked like rows of office doors. He wondered if that had been intentional.

Irrelevant now. Time to see what he could get from their guest. Zhang was conversing with Ruth and Abby in front of the second holding cell, all falling silent as he approached. He motioned for them to continue. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, walking up.

All of them gave his salute which he returned quickly. “Commander,” Zhang greeted. “Good timing.”

“What’s the verdict?” The Commander asked, looking at Ruth.

“Mixed,” Ruth answered, handing him a tablet filled with physical information about the subject. “He has a high pain tolerance. Abby has made some estimates on what that threshold might be, but it’s theoretical. At the very least, we know how far we can push him physically without killing him.”

He saw Abby purse her lips. “I’d recommend not going that far though. When the body is pushed to that extreme, I can’t guarantee you won’t kill him anyway.”

It appeared Abby still wasn’t completely comfortable with interrogation. That was fine, as long as she did her job and it seemed she had. “Noted,” he acknowledged. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary to push him to that point. I’ll stop long before we have to worry about his life.”

“If you do decide to use torture, I’ve mapped areas that will be effective and won’t cause permanent damage,” Abby added, nodding towards the tablet. “He’s also burned extensively. Be careful if you decide to use that, otherwise infection will set in and kill him.”

He looked over, impressed. “Good work, Abby. Has he said anything?”

“I think he said one word in Chinese,” Ruth shrugged. “But otherwise has been silent.”

“The Chinese demographic in Russia is rather small,” the Commander noted. “Interesting that one would be involved in a Russian EXALT cell.”

“I’m curious about that as well,” Zhang agreed, glancing towards the cell. “Sadly, I doubt he’ll give up that information easily.”

“Then let’s get started,” the Commander nodded, looking to the two women. “Both of you remain here for now. We’ll call if you’re needed.”

Both women nodded. “Yes, Commander.” With that he and Zhang opened the door and walked into the cell.

Just as last time, there was one table with two chairs facing each other. The prisoner was sitting on the table, his hands resting on it. His tan skin and Chinese features were stoic, clearly trying to give the illusion of normalcy. Though judging from the extensive burns on his arms and legs, he was likely in agony.

While his pain tolerance was impressive, it wasn’t completely a bad thing. If his mind was so focused on blocking out the pain, it might be easier for something to be let slip. The Commander took a seat opposite him, clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. “Greetings. I am the Commander of the XCOM project.”

The prisoner just glared back at him, his stark blue eyes filled with fury. No response. Typical, but not worth worrying about. “I presume you know how this works,” the Commander continued, keeping his voice level. “I have a few questions to ask, you answer them. Cooperate and you’ll be extradited to Russia for trial. Refuse and you’ll wish you had died.”

“疼痛会不会对我的工作, 联合国傀儡,” the man hissed through his teeth. “你什么都没有跟来威胁我.”

“Pain will not work on me, UN puppet,” Zhang translated. “You have nothing to threaten me with.”

The prisoner glanced sharply over at Zhang, clearly not expecting his words to be repeated. “ _Really_?” the Commander smiled. “UN puppet? I’ve been called many things, but a UN puppet has never been one of them.”

He waved his hand. “Regardless, you’re right. I don’t have anything to threaten you with except pain. So to be honest, I’m not expecting you to coordinate,” the Commander leaned forward. “Fortunately, we don’t need your cooperation. We just need to learn your breaking point. EXALT soldiers have a standardized training regime, correct? And that would include interrogation resistance. So we’ll learn what we can from you, and know exactly how to break the next soldier we capture.”

The prisoner’s face twitched in several places. “你不会伤害我, 您的法律禁止它.” He spat.

“You will not hurt me,” Zhang translated, the corners of his lips barely moving up. “Your laws forbid it.”

The Commander shared in Zhang’s amusement. Well, at the very least EXALT didn’t know much about the internal structure of XCOM to make such a…presumptuous statement. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” He asked, smiling.

“没有,” he said shortly.

“No,” Zhang confirmed.

“Fair enough,” the Commander nodded. “You are aware of the War on Terror, yes? The Commander?”

The prisoner gave a brief nod, clear suspicion in his eyes. “是,”

No translation needed there. “Well,” the Commander leaned back. “I was one of his subordinates. A rather high-ranking one at that.”

The prisoner blinked in surprise, his lips parting slightly. A better reaction than he’d anticipated. He calmed down after a few seconds and glared at the Commander suspiciously. “证明给我看.” He demanded, tension in his voice.

“Prove it,” Zhang translated.

He supposed it was smart not to take it on faith. “Fine,” he nodded at the prisoner. “How?”

The prisoner leaned forward. “Who was the second-in-command to the Commander?” He asked, his voice not nearly as accented as the Commander expected.

The Commander frowned. That was an oddly specific question, and something that this man should not know about. He wouldn’t be surprised if EXALT command knew, but for this man? “Ethan Delger,” he answered.

The prisoner let out a sigh, confusion on his face. “I see,” he said.

“My turn,” the Commander demanded. “How did you know that?”

“Unimportant,” the prisoner said. “But it is interesting, nonetheless.”

“Then you know I’ll follow through,” the Commander reminded him. “Consider this your last chance.”

“Nothing has changed,” the prisoner stated coldly, looking him in the eye. “We both are part of something bigger than ourselves and both of us are willing to die for it. Torture me if you want, but you will get nothing.”

The Commander stood and appraised the prisoner before him. He’d brought up quite a few new questions that needed to be answered, but this was a rare situation where he felt that he didn’t have the upper hand. He could torture him, yes, but he felt it would just be a waste of time. The prisoner’s eyes were filled pain and fear, yes, but also resolve. He’d seen enough from the War on Terror to know that he would probably go mad or die before revealing anything.

He was sure the prisoner would have quite a bit of interesting information, but nothing critical. The Solaris lead was the clearest next link to EXALT, and wouldn’t require this man. Furthermore, he figured they would encounter more EXALT soldiers in the future, and gain some more prisoners that way.

One would break eventually. And the more prisoners who didn’t, the more refined their techniques would be. The Commander glanced over at Zhang. “Find out how to break his interrogation training, use whatever methods are necessary. Do not kill him though. Once you finish, turn him over to Vahlen.”

“Understood, Commander.” Zhang nodded and eyed the prisoner humorlessly.

The prisoner looked somewhat surprised it was over. “You’re wasting your time,” he called out. “We cannot be broken.”

“You might not be,” the Commander answered over his shoulder as he opened the door. “But can you say the same about your friends?”

He didn’t wait for a response and closed the door. Abby and Ruth snapped to attention as he walked over. “How did it go?” Ruth asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Torture would be a waste of time and we have nothing to threaten him with,” the Commander answered bluntly. “I’ve instructed Zhang to figure out how to break his interrogation resistance. Abby, you’ll be needed on this. Are you up to it?”

She visibly swallowed. “Yes, Commander.”

He nodded firmly. “Good. Get to work. I’ll have Zhang begin working on the Solaris lead in a few days.”

The two women went over to the cell to talk with Zhang and the Commander turned to walk back to his office. What he found interesting was why the soldier had reacted so strongly to his revelation that he had “worked” for the Commander. Did EXALT have some special interest in him?

No, during the War on Terror, he’d probably interfered with their plans unknowingly. He supposed it would make sense that they learned all they could about him. At least they didn’t know he was alive.

He sincerely hoped they hadn’t taken his soldiers who’d been sent to trial and extracted the information from them. If he found they’d done that, he’d be sure to find the leader of EXALT and hang them from a cross as retribution.

He might have failed to protect his soldiers, but he would be damn sure to avenge them.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

He found it interesting how recognizable he was no matter where he went. He didn’t feel the need to display his rank anywhere and just wore the standard black XCOM military fatigues. But everyone recognized him and always felt the need to salute. Well, that particular military trait was never going to die, so he’d gotten much better at responding quickly.

Before he went to check on Vahlen, he had to check his office and make sure nothing important had come up. Judging how this day was going, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out. Which was partially why he was saving visiting Vahlen for last. He wanted to end the day on a positive note.

Unless Vahlen had run into unsolvable problems of course. Wouldn’t that by typical. Nah, there was no such thing as an unsolvable problem for Vahlen. She wouldn’t let him down, she never had.

“Commander?”

He turned to see one of the soldiers approaching him. Carmelita. Hmm, he wasn’t expecting to see her. Still, he was interested in what she wanted. He stopped and turned to her. “Yes, Specialist Alba?”

“If you have a moment, I’d like to discuss something with you,” she answered intently, looking up at him.

The Commander motioned forward. “Walk with me, we can talk on the way.”

“Right,” she nodded and they began walking.

“What did you want to ask?” The Commander glanced over at her after a minute of walking.

“How long has the MEC been in production?” She asked.

How best to answer. He wouldn’t have thought Carmelita to be the one to raise this issue. “A couple months. Most of which was spent designing the prototype.”

“Works well, I’d say,” she nodded. “You plan to make more?”

“Should we find suitable candidates,” the Commander answered cautiously. “We’re still trying to determine the side effects of the procedure and negate them.”

“I figured,” she said. “But you’re going to need people.”

“True,” the Commander nodded, getting a sense of where she was going. “The MEC program will be volunteer only, and even then after extensive screening. Myra was not asked lightly.”

“I doubt you need to look far, Commander,” Carmelita shook her head. “All of us want to do whatever it takes to eradicate the aliens. Including me, which is why I want to volunteer.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow and looked down as her while she stared straight ahead. “I’m glad you’re willing, Carmelita,” he finally said. “But I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.”

“One MEC almost single-handedly took out an entire facility,” Carmelita reminded him, venom tainting her voice. “If I can turn that on the aliens then that’s all I care about.”

The Commander considered for a minute. Carmelita would likely be a fine candidate for the MEC program, but she was driven by her hatred of the aliens, and until the kinks of the MEC conversion were fully determined, he didn’t want to kill that fire. Not when there was an alternative coming up soon that _would_ need volunteers.

“We have no plans for more MEC soldiers for the short term,” the Commander told her slowly. “We’re improving the design and the procedure. But if you _are_ interested in volunteering for…experimental procedures, one program will need volunteers in the near future.”

“Then let me know,” Carmelita said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

“I appreciate that,” the Commander nodded. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Carmelita stopped, inclined her head towards him and gave his salute. “Thanks for listening, Commander.”

He returned it. “Anytime, Carmelita.” He watched her walk off and after standing still a few seconds, continued onto his office. Once inside he sank into his chair and began checking up on the current state of affairs.

Fortunately, all seemed to be working normally. There wasn’t much that was changing on the financial and resource level. Their supply of alloys, MELD and weapon fragments was still high, though hopefully they’d shoot down a UFO soon to give them something of a boost when they began opening alliances with the proxy countries.

The advantage with controlling the entirety of this technology was that he could give as much or little as he wanted and they would have no choice but to accept. Now, he thought the arrangements that were made now were fair, but if they ever hit dire straits, it was a good safety net without worrying too much about losing alliances.

Several more satellites were in production, and would hopefully be finished within the month. Once South America was fully covered, Europe was the next continent. Or perhaps Asia, with Raven airstrips in both areas, both were feasible.

His computer pinged, indicating someone was outside. He frowned and thumbed the door to be unlocked. He wasn’t expecting someone here now. The door slid open to reveal one of the soldiers.

The Commander appraised him for a moment. Ah, he recognized him now. Soran Kakusa, one of the newer soldiers. He’d acquitted himself well and had been on some high-profile missions including the first contact of EXALT and most recently, the Newfoundland mission.

He waved him forward. “Come in.” Soran nodded and walked forward and took a seat opposite him.

“Apologies if this is breaking protocol,” he said, his English surprisingly well, with barely a trace of an accent at all. “Some of the soldiers told me that you wouldn’t have an issue with unannounced visits.”

“I don’t,” the Commander assured him. “What do you need?”

Soran hesitated. “It concerns Overseer Trask.”

“Patricia?” The Commander frowned. “Is there a problem with her?”

“Not exactly,” Soran answered slowly. “It’s just…I’ve been noticing some odd things about her lately,” he paused. “As hard as this is to believe, I think she’s psionic.”

Well, well, wasn’t that interesting. Not that Patricia was psionic, but that others were noticing. It meant she was either training on her own or she was improving unconsciously. “Why do you think so?” He asked, curious.

“It was mostly on that last mission,” Soran explained, resting his arms on the armrests of the chair. “She and I somehow were coordinating…with not talking whatsoever. I shrugged it off at the time, but she made a comment on how she expected the warehouse to be empty even before opening it. Then she blasted that shark apart even when we had no idea what was inside it.”

“Both those could be lucky guesses,” the Commander pointed out.

“Maybe,” Soran shrugged. “But the odd coordination happened again once we were retreating. You must have seen those chryssalids go down within a few seconds. I was acting without even thinking about it. Then she just yelled for the aliens that were advancing to stop and…they did.”

The Commander was silent for a moment. “Interesting. You’re right. We confirmed Patricia to be psionic a while ago, but she wasn’t using anything you described. I suppose I should figure out what’s going on with her.”

“Watch the mission again,” Soran suggested. “You’ll see it better than I can explain.”

“I’ll do that,” the Commander promised, thinking. Yes, he would definitely need to speak with her soon. If she _was_ consciously training herself, that should be done with his knowledge. Not to mention he needed to know exactly what she could do now.

“That’s all I wanted to say, Commander,” Soran said as he stood up. “Thanks for your time.”

“Anytime,” the Commander nodded. “You’ve done well here. Keep it up and we’ll win this war.”

“That’s all I want,” Soran answered, giving his salute. “The sooner the war ends, the better for everyone.”

He left the Commander alone in his office again. Now that it was brought up, he _did_ recall Patricia giving an exact number of EXALT soldiers inside the facility. He didn’t know if adrenaline or simple oversight was the reason he’d not wondered _how_ she knew that, but she’d been right and he’d promptly forgotten about that.

Which was really odd. A detail like that didn’t usually slip his mind. Well, he knew about it now and would definitely be bringing it up with her _very_ soon. Tomorrow soon. Because now, he had a visit with Vahlen. Time to see what she’d been up too.

***

_The Citadel, Experimentation Labs_

There were multiple scientists within Vahlen’s Gene Lab, running tests, working equipment and having civil conversations with each other. It was almost a one-to-one ration between the regular Research Labs and the Gene Labs, with a few more scientists being in the Research Labs.

He didn’t pay too much attention to what they were doing, though he did note there were a few more animals than last time. Something rubbed against his leg and he looked down to see that cat he’d encountered the last time. It glanced up at him, meowing and purring.

He sighed and knelt down to take the cat into his arms and it purred contentedly as he looked around for Vahlen. Hmm. Not here, so she was probably in the Experimentation Labs, working on the test subjects themselves. He walked over to the sealed door and before he could, the cat jumped out of his arms and dashed away.

Convenient. He shrugged and punched in his code and the doors slid open with a hiss. He quickly stepped inside and looked around as the doors closed behind him at a place that would probably be described as Hell by a good portion of the population.

The thing in the cell directly to his right could barely be described as human. Tiny black furs covered every inch of exposed skin and the Commander couldn’t tell if it was male or female. The hairs almost looked like bristles and appeared to cover everything, even the eyes. The corners of his lips twitched. Based on the sight of the thing curled into the corner, shivering, he suspected it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

He took a few steps further and looked into a cell to his left. Inside was a man spread out on the floor, his limbs contorted in odd angles. But the thing was that it didn’t look…broken. The left leg was curled like a noodle inward which should have cracked the leg, but instead seemed kept in one position. It looked like all his bones had been turned to jelly or some kind of liquid.

Interesting, but likely not painful.

He kept walking, ignoring the perfectly normal unaltered humans who shrank against the wall at his approach. A stark difference from a few weeks ago. One subject in a nearby cell was screaming and clutching her eyes, though the soundproofing let nothing out.

The Commander looked curiously inside, trying to see what had happened. After what seemed like an unnecessary amount of time, the woman lowered her hands, revealing her eyes. Curiously, it seemed like there were two sets of pupils, one semi-imposed on top of the other, though not symmetrical at all.

The eyes were red from crying, but other than that it didn’t look like she’d been hurt. Failed experiments, he assumed. Though even a failed experiment was still useful, and he hadn’t expected that she’d get it right the first time. Better now than on him or one of his soldiers.

Another female test subject was up against the glass, banging on it trying to get his attention. She didn’t appear to have been altered yet, but he walked over anyway, his face blank and dispassionate. In contrast, she was practically sobbing, her lips moving soundlessly.

The Commander put a finger to his lips to signify to be quiet as he stood in front of her. She gulped and went quiet. One of the younger ones, she was likely lower thirties. Tangled brown hair framed her face, and her bloodshot brown eyes held nothing but terror. How ironic. He pulled out his tablet and began looking through the list of test subjects, trying to find her.

While that was going on, he pressed the button to allow them to speak. “You want to say something?” He asked calmly, as he kept going through the records.

“Yes,” she sobbed. “Please get me out of here! I’ll do whatever it takes! Just get me out!”

He glanced up at her, pursing his lips. “Shouting will not change anything…” he glanced down at the tablet. “Casey Reinstar. I do not think you’re in a position to be making requests,” he glanced down at the tablet again. “Let’s see…you were charged with infanticide of your son and subsequent murder of your boyfriend. On top of that, you tried to pin the murder on someone else and would have gotten away with it had your “new” boyfriend not stepped forward and confessed everything.” He lowered the tablet, glaring at her. “I believe that’s murder, framing and perjury all wrapped up in one nice case. As far as I’m concerned, you’re getting exactly what you deserve.”

“What do you want to hear?” She almost screamed, bursting into tears again. “Yes! Yes I killed them! Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry! I wish I’d never done it! You have to believe me!”

The Commander felt whatever miniscule amount of sympathy fade as she kept going. What a fucking shock. “Of course you are,” he practically hissed, his voice sounding harsh, even to him. “Everyone is _sorry_ when they get caught. Everyone is _sorry_ when they realize their actions have consequences. It makes me sick to think you almost walked free.”

“Then just kill me,” Casey begged, pressing her palms up to the glass. “Give me whatever punishment you deserve. Just don’t leave me with _her_. I don’t want to become one of those _things_.”

By _her_ he assumed _Vahlen,_ and by _things_ he assumed _failed experiments_. Pity he didn’t exactly feel sorry for her. “Make no mistake,” he told her harshly. “You _will_ die. But before that happens you will make something out of your worthless life. Your death will ensure better men and women live, perhaps you can take solace in that.”

“You’re a monster,” she hissed, pure hatred in her eyes. “Decent people don’t do this. Only those who delight in causing others pain.”

“You’re right,” he told her coldly. “Decent people don’t. But don’t mistake my lack of sympathy for delight. Your participation in these experiments are necessary, but I take no pleasure in it. Were it up to me, I would carry out a summary execution. But that would be a waste now, not when your life could be used for a better purpose.”

He paused and glanced down at her. “Are you religious, Casey?”

“I wasn’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sank to the ground.

The Commander nodded. “Christians believe that anyone can repent, no matter what their crimes or deeds. All they have to do is accept Jesus and their one and only savior,” he waved his hand. “Of course, that varies from denomination to denomination, but there is a general consensus than anyone can be forgiven.”

The Commander paused. “Now I would personally hope that’s not true, since it seems wrong for a murderer to go to heaven simply because they realize they screwed up and decided to repent.” He glanced down. “But then again, I am not God, so I can’t say one way or another.”

Casey looked up at him, her face filled with confusion. “The point I want to make is this,” the Commander stated, looking pitilessly down upon her. “Beg God for forgiveness, Casey. Because you’ll find none here.”

He switched off the intercom and stepped back, leaving the broken woman on the floor. He would never understand people with her mindset, but he supposed it was better that way. Though this whole experience was bringing up concerns he’d had about himself.

Was he really that different?

These people killed innocents; he’d killed innocents, probably more than all of them combined. Did he regret them? No, but he regretted that they’d had to take place at all. He and Ethan had a long conversation about it after they’d hung those child soldiers on crosses.

Throughout it all, he’d then come to a conclusion that did make a difference. He killed because it was necessary, while these criminals killed for selfish reasons. He never took a life without cause, and only when more people would be hurt if he did nothing. The majority of the people he killed deserved death, but the ones who did not were unfortunate casualties of war.

He didn’t want them to die, but he had no choice and it was sometimes called for.

Necessary. That’s what set him apart.

He only did what was necessary, nothing more.

He felt a hand on his back and turned to see Vahlen behind him. “Commander?” She asked, eyeing him with concern.

“Ah, Vahlen,” he turned to face her fully. “I see you’ve been busy.”

She pursed her lips. “Yes, the first trials are always messy. But thanks to them I believe I know what to do for the next round of testing.”

“I’m curious,” the Commander nodded towards the cells. “What exactly prompted these changes?”

She pointed at the fur-covered test subject. “That one was the result of attempted spider gene splicing. I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘failure,’ per-ser. It just worked a little…too well. Not a setback, I was expecting it to be harder, actually.”

Ah, that made sense. “And what of that one?” The Commander nodded, turning to point out the man with the jelly-like limbs.

“An attempt at fusing thin man and human genetics,” Vahlen explained, tapping her chin as she looked at the test subject. “And it did have the intended effect. We’ve tried dropping him from up to forty feet and he still lived. Sadly, for reasons I have yet to determine, it also made his bones as supportive as skin and just as flexible. Since his skeletal structure has effectively collapsed, he can’t support himself.” She sighed. “It might take a few subjects before I figure this one out.”

“And her?” The Commander asked, looking over at the double-pupiled woman.

“A near success,” Vahlen smiled. “I know exactly what went wrong and how to fix it. I’m confident our first gene mod will be enhanced vision.”

“Good to hear,” the Commander said, pleased progress was being made. “Can you remove gene mods from the subjects and use them over again?”

“No,” Vahlen admitted, licking her lips to wet them. “Gene mods are permanent. Once I have everything I need from a subject, they’ll be terminated and I’ll strip what MELD I can from their bodies.”

“At least we get something back,” the Commander said. “So why is she alive?” He asked, referring to the female subject.

“Because only a small part of her body was affected by the MELD,” Vahlen explained, eyeing the woman. “I can use the rest of her body for other genetic modification. Though this is perhaps the only exception. I will have to remove her eyes though, so the MELD doesn’t accidentally contaminate another gene mod.”

“Anything else?” The Commander asked, looking down the rows of cells.

“Yes,” Vahlen began walking towards the end, motioning him to follow. “Our final test subject has been housing a secondary heart, which I hope will increase the chances our soldiers live should they suffer an otherwise fatal injury.”

They stopped at the end cell, where a prisoner was secured to the wall with another scientist inside. His face was contorted in pain and sweat glistened on his body, dripping onto the slick floor.

“There are two issues we’re running into,” Vahlen explained, pursing her lips as she appraised the test subject. “The smaller heart seems to be in an uncomfortable position, almost painful I’d say from the data we’ve gathered. The other being that we’re not having much luck getting the heart to work. Right now it’s not doing anything, so we have no recourse but to see if a traumatic event jumpstarts it.”

“How?” The Commander asked as Vahlen moved to open the cell door.

The scientist stepped aside as Vahlen approached. “It’s simple,” Vahlen stated, as she pulled out a small pistol. “We shoot him.”

The Commander frowned. “That might kill him,” he pointed out.

“Potentially,” Vahlen shrugged. “But we’ve got all that we can out of him. This is all that remains.” She flipped the grip to him in a surprisingly smooth motion. “You wish to do the honors?”

He took the pistol in his hand and eyed the test subject. “Of course,”

Vahlen nodded at her partner. “Begin monitoring,” she looked up at the Commander. “Shoot his heart.”

“Understood,” he confirmed, lining up the shot. “Ready?”

“Fire at will,” Vahlen confirmed.

The shot rang out and blood immediately spurted from the wound, the man screaming in agony as he writhed in his restraints. “Monitoring begun,” the scientist informed. “Nothing so far…”

The Commander sighed and reloaded as blood began to pool on the ground. If nothing happened it was best to kill him quickly. No point in his suffering if it didn’t have a purpose.

“Wait,” Vahlen insisted, sharply raising a hand. “Give it a few more seconds.”

The man was clearly fading, his thrashing going limper and his screams becoming quieter. “Hey! I think it’s trying to work!” The scientist exclaimed and thrust the tablet towards Vahlen.

The Commander glanced over and saw a 3-D replication of the internal organs. The heart had a great gaping hole, but the smaller one next to it was pumping erratically. Even he could see it wasn’t working properly. “Keep watch on him and monitor everything,” Vahlen ordered. “I want to know how long he lasts and compare it to similar injuries.”

“You’re still going to let him die?” The Commander asked, curiously as he followed Vahlen out of the cell.

“We can’t repair the damage to his heart from the wound you dealt it,” Vahlen explained. “But now that the secondary heart is somewhat working, I should be able to fix my mistakes for the next subject.”

“So where do you think you went wrong?” The Commander asked as they walked to the main gene lab.

“I made the mistake of treating the secondary heart as an…attachment of sorts,” Vahlen explained, almost sounding embarrassed. “What I needed to do was modify the existing heart and also reduce it somewhat in size so both can fit in comfortably in the chest.” She had taken a pen out of her pocket at some point and was twirling it between her fingers. “The hearts also need to work in conjunction, waiting for a traumatic jumpstart is unreliable and might provide some more advantages to our soldiers beyond survivability.”

“A linked heart would increase stamina,” the Commander noted, nodding as he thought about it. “Good job.”

“I do my best,” she smiled up at him. “Come here, I’ve also got something to show you.”

They exited the Experimentation Labs and Vahlen practically dragged him over to a table that had a vial and within it…some kind of embryo? “I think I’ve done it,” Vahlen stated, clear satisfaction in her voice. “A chryssalid embryo, remodified with MELD and traditional genetic modification. I’ve changed it’s…parameters so to speak, to target anything non-human.”

“How?” The Commander demanded incredulously.

“Humans exhibit certain pheromones,” Vahlen explained as she set the vial back down. “The chryssalid was…programmed... to specifically prioritize them over anything else. The thing is, chryssalids are dangerous, even to the aliens. Chryssalids will go after humans first, but once humans are gone? They go after the aliens since they’re attracted to the pheromones they excrete as well.”

“Ah,” the Commander nodded. “So how did you fix it? You just prioritized the alien pheromones?”

“That was the obvious,” Vahlen agreed. “But then we’d run into the same problem, and unlike the aliens, we don’t have dozens at our disposal and might want to use chryssalids multiple times. So instead, I made it so chryssalids _ignore_ human pheromones and treat us like plants or any other kind of non-threatening object.”

“Amazing,” the Commander shook his head. “You outdid yourself this time. I assume it needs to be tested though?”

“It does,” Vahlen confirmed. “And with your permission, I want to begin.”

“I assume you’ll be careful,” the Commander said. “So consider it officially granted. Let me know the results as soon as possible.”

“Will do Commander,” she agreed vigorously. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Quite honestly, at this point I doubt you need my permission. I trust you.”

She put her fingers over his own on her shoulder. “I’m glad you think so. But it would feel…wrong…not to ask first.”

“I can understand,” he empathized, letting his hand drop reluctantly. “I’ll let you get back to work. But we should take a break sometime. Just talk, it’s been awhile since our last.”

She gave him a wide smile. “I’d like nothing more,” she suddenly scowled. “Except maybe figuring out that issue with our boneless test subject.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see you later,” he said, walking away and she turned back to her lab equipment.

He smiled to himself as he walked out. Yes, it had been a good idea to save this visit for last. He had a good feeling about what the future held now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Repayment

 

_Nigeria, Vyandar EXALT Headquarters_

It was good to be in her childhood home, even if was just for a few hours.

Saudia strode through the gardens she and Hasina had run through as a child, marveling at how little it had changed. Eight square patches for growing various flowers and medicinal herbs made up the area, with stone walkways between each of them. Within the patches, the plants were allowed to grow freely, not placed into neat rows like most would expect.

It was the way Mother had always done it, and there would be some things that would never change. Although had events turned out differently and she’d become head of the family, that would admittedly have been one of the first improvements. She understood Mother wanting things to be wild and free, but there was an argument to be had for efficiency and practicality.

Hasina would probably keep the tradition, as was her right, and since it was almost the same, she assumed Hasina already made that choice. Looking at it, Saudia wondered how Mother would cope once Father died. They’d been married forty years, and she was concerned that Mother wouldn’t hold up once he was gone. For that matter, she wondered how Hasina would fare. She and Father were much closer than Saudia, and while she would mourn his death like everyone else, it would be less than what Hasina would feel.

In the center of the garden was a fountain with four benches in front of its sides. Father was sitting peacefully in front of it, while several guards stood behind him. Ah, that was one thing that _was_ different about this place. There’d never been guards before.

They knew who she was though, and stepped aside as she approached. “[Leave us,]” she ordered quietly, glad to revert to her native tongue. They nodded and walked out of the garden. Once they were gone, she slowly walked up beside her father.

Well into his mid-sixties, few would guess Evelor Vyandar was any older than fifty, much less suffering from a genetic disease. Slight wrinkles only just now forming on his kind face, his eyes still held the same energy and determination she’d seen so often growing up. His short wiry black hair was beginning to turn silver, but he was just as immaculate as ever.

“[Saudia,]” he greeted, looking up to her, a warm smile gracing his lips. “[I’m so glad to see you again.]” He stood and they tightly embraced. Saudia would have found it amusing how much taller she was than him, but the situation was too solemn to focus on that.

After a few seconds they separated and sat down together on the bench. “[You’re still as beautiful as ever, Director,]” he complemented. “[And haven’t changed a bit since our last talk.]”

She sighed. “[Thank you, Father. But I’m not here as Director for the moment, I’m here as your daughter,]”

“[I know, I know,]” he chuckled. “[But EXALT business comes first, yes?]”

“[Yes,]” Saudia commented, looking at the fountain. “[You taught me that. Though there isn’t much today.]”

They were silent for a minute. “[I assume Hasina has told you about my condition?]” He asked, mostly as a confirmation.

“[During the last meeting,]” Saudia confirmed. “[I was preparing for it…]” she paused. “[Though I thought there would be more time before we had to worry about it.]”

“[That’s what we all wish,]” he nodded. “[But some things can’t be changed.]”

“[Not necessarily,]” Saudia protested, looking at him. “[Hasina says she’s hopeful Darian will come up with something-]”

The elder Vyandar held up his hand. “[Child, you know as well as I that will not happen.]”

Saudia’s shoulder sank. “[No, probably not,]” she admitted sadly.

“[I only have months to live,]” he said calmly. “[I’ve come to terms with it. And I’m glad we’re getting to visit one last time, since I know how busy you’ve been.]”

She closed her eyes, knowing that soon tears would come. “[I’ll try to have it not be the last time.]”

“[If I die, knowing EXALT will be in your hands, I will be content,]” he said firmly. “[I’ve always been proud of what you’ve done for EXALT and our family. I just want to make sure you know it.]”

“[I know,]” she whispered. “[But I mostly used what you taught me.]”

“[Oh, you most certainly did,]” he agreed, his lips curling up. “[But you’ve forged your own path without relying on me. I didn’t pass the Gauntlet or _Rex Fecit_ did I? That was all you, all without my help or intervention.]”

“[I suppose I can take some of the credit,]” Saudia admitted, knowing he wouldn’t have it any other way. “[I will do my best to ensure our final goal is fulfilled.]”

“[You didn’t promise,] he noted. “[Good. Promises are hard to keep these days.]”

“[Yes,]” Saudia agreed. “[I assume Hasina has briefed you on recent events?]”

“[Of course,]” he confirmed, his voice turning serious as he looked her in the eyes. “[If I may offer some advice, don’t underestimate these aliens. They will not take kindly to being played.]”

“[They won’t be,]” Saudia assured him. “[Once the aliens have served their purpose, we will dispose of them.]”

He gave her a sad smile. “[Saudia, you are strong, charismatic and brilliant. Yet no great leader is without one fatal flaw, and you should be aware of yours.]” He paused. “[You are arrogant, child. And I hope that your belief in our superiority does not lead to your downfall.]”

She could very easily see how that was true of her, yet there was a fine line between arrogance and truth. “[But we _are_ superior, Father,]” she insisted calmly. “[The best of humanity. These aliens can’t comprehend even the bond regular humans share with each other, let alone those who are EXALT. It might be arrogance, yes, but one backed up by centuries of work.]”

He shook his head. “[Child, the world has changed much since you were born. Even more so since I was. But I can assure you that there has never been an enemy like these aliens. By their very nature, you cannot assume them to act like us, or even treat them as inferior.]”

He laced his fingers together and continued solemnly. “[You will be the one to decide the future of humanity, Saudia. The aliens are a catalyst for us and we will either emerge and guide humanity to a bright future, or EXALT will wither and die in the shadows. There will be no backup plan like the two World Wars. There will be no opportunities afterward like the War on Terror. EXALT will survive, or it will die.]”

He faced her, his gaze seeming to pierce directly to her soul. “[What happens will depend on you, Director.]”

She swallowed, the enormous weight of that responsibility again resting itself on her shoulders. Because that truth was becoming more and more evident with each passing day. It was growing time for EXALT to either fulfill its final objective, or die forever. If the aliens won, there would be no second chance.

“[What should I do to ensure our victory?]” She asked softly.

He was quiet for a minute before answering. “[Never forget who our enemy is,]” he said. “[Humans can be used and controlled. Aliens cannot. Do not turn away help if the opportunity presents itself…]” his voice faltered, then finally spoke. “[Even if they are not one of us.]”

Saudia blinked in shock. A statement like that was borderline blasphemous. EXALT _never_ accepted or solicited help from outside. They _used_ governments and various groups, sure, but the word _help_ implied that EXALT would not be the ones in charge. If Father was saying this, even offhandedly, he must really be worried. Far more so than he let on.

“[Outsiders cannot be trusted,]” Saudia said, shaking her head. “[They are too fallible, too prone to corruption.]”

He looked at her with a small smile. “[I didn’t say what form that help would take, did I. The point, Saudia, is that just because something is generally not done, it doesn’t mean it _shouldn’t_ be done. You understand this better than most. Sometimes, tradition is not worth preserving.]”

That was most certainly true, but she currently didn’t see a reason to break an unspoken rule that had existed within EXALT for centuries. Still, she inclined her head, grateful he’d offered it anyway. “[Thank you, Father.]”

“[Just remember it,]” he insisted. “[I’d make that my last request.]”

“[I will,]” she promised softly.

“[One more thing,]” he added. “[Be there for your sister. She’s just as capable as you, but just needs to realize she can move on without me.]”

“[I promise to do what I can,]” Saudia answered hesitantly. “[But as Director…]”

“[I know,]” he reassured her. “[You’re supposed to be neutral. I’m just asking to be there as a sister. As family.]”

Family. Because that’s what families did, support and encourage each other. Or at least that was how it should be. Hasina might not treat her the way she should, but that wasn’t a reason for Saudia to return the favor. “[I will,]” she promised, taking his hand.

He gave her a wry smile. “[I know you will, Saudia. I’ll let you get to your business with Hasina.]”

They both stood and embraced each other. Saudia now finally felt the tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. She rarely cried anymore, since it wasn’t right or proper for the Director of EXALT. But she felt now could be an exception. “[Goodbye, Father,]” she whispered into his shoulder. “[I’ll make you proud.]”

They stood that way for a few minutes, father and daughter embracing for what might be the last time.

***

Hasina was in the small room that constituted her office. A desktop computer was at the far left corner, with bookshelves and filing cabinets opposite it. In the center of the room was a small holotable, using green lighting as opposed to the traditional blue. Hasina also kept several native plants along the walls and remaining corners.

The one thing that Saudia could safely say she didn’t like about the room was the green carpet on the floor. She’d never liked it as a child, and still didn’t like it now. She always felt she was going to ruin it just by stepping on it.

Hasina stood in front of the holotable, wearing the same dress uniform as the last time they’d spoken. Though Saudia did note that he gloves were discarded and laid on the table over her computer. Upon opening the door, Hasina looked up as Saudia approached.

“[I’m glad you spoke,]” she greeted quietly as they gave each other a quick embrace. “[He really wanted to see you one last time.]”

“[So did I,]” Saudia agreed sadly, looking over her sister. “[How are you doing?]” She asked, after a few moments of silence.

Hasina shrugged. “[Well enough, I suppose. Everything is being managed fine.]”

“[I know that,]” Saudia said. “[I was asking how _you_ were doing?]”

Hasina leaned against the wall. “[I almost wish it would be over with,]” she admitted after a minute. “[I hate watching him die so slowly and not being able to do anything.]”

“[I know,]” Saudia empathized. “[But there isn’t anything we can do except make him comfortable.]”

“[Yes,]” Hasina reluctantly agreed, resignation on her face. “[But it’s difficult to watch.]” She shook her head. “[Thanks, Saudia, for coming to see him. But you came for more than just a sad family reunion. We have things to discuss.]”

Saudia cleared her throat. “[Yes. That we do.]”

Hasina tapped a few buttons on the holotable which flashed and formed to the country of Russia. “[Has anything new been discovered about the attack?]”

“[Some,]” Saudia shook her head. “[Well, Diguon reported that one of the bodies was missing, so it’s possible he was taken captive.]”

Hasina pursed her lip. “[Not good.]”

“[Diguon assures me that if one _has_ been captured, he wouldn’t talk,]” Saudi informed her.

“[That’s what Elizabeth said too, if I recall.]” Hasina pointed out grimly.

“[Diguon is more careful about his soldiers than Elizabeth,]” Saudia said. “[And since this was one of our more important bases, I’d imagine he’d have placed some of his best soldiers on guard.]”

“[Let’s hope you are right,]” Hasina muttered, crossing her arms. “[It’s concerning that the Russians were able to shut us down without any warning.]”

“[It wasn’t just the Russians,]” Saudia told her walking beside her and handing her a sheet of paper. “[Diguon believes they were just the instrument used against us. This was the memo sent to the Kremlin that sent them towards our smuggling plant.]”

Hasina took the paper and bit her lip as she looked it over. “[An anonymous source,] she noted. “[This is terrible regardless. Anyone even slightly intelligent will note the large sums transferred from Solaris Industries.]”

“[I doubt it’s anonymous,]” Saudia muttered leaning down on the table as she looked over the country. “[XCOM now has a vested interest in us. Somehow, they managed to find out where our plant was and set the Russians on us. Not bad.]”

Hasina pursed her lips. “[I thought XCOM didn’t have this capability. Strictly military only.]”

“[We were either misinformed,]” Saudia answered neutrally. “[Or this increase in intelligence work is new.]”

“[In response to us, no doubt,]” Hasina agreed with a nod, setting the paper on the table.

Saudia hesitated. “[Perhaps, perhaps not. It takes time to set up a useful intelligence force, and the fluidity of which it was executed suggests it was at least weeks in the planning. Not to mention XCOM has had some kind of Intelligence force for a while, going off Germany.]”

“[Still, I am surprised the Russians were able to take out our base so quickly,]” Hasina commented. “[They must have used overwhelming force.]”

Saudia cocked her head. “[I don’t believe the Russians actually carried out the attack, they just showed up afterward. Diguon believes the same thing. You haven’t seen the updated report, I assume?]”

Hasina shook her head. “[No, there’s been some local disputes that have taken my attention this morning.]”

Saudia handed her a file. “[Take a look at this.]”

Hasina took the file and her eyes widened as she flipped through the photos and autopsy reports. “[The Russians tend to be brutal with their foes,]” Saudia said as Hasina read. “[But rarely do they slice them into pieces or let them burn to a slow death.]”

“[Eh,]” Hasina shrugged. “[It’s Russia, I wouldn’t be surprised. But you have a point. All non-fire fatalities were caused by clean, cauterized wounds. Only XCOM has access to such weapons.]”

“[Yes,]” Saudia confirmed. “[This was intended to be retribution for our own attack, I assume.]”

“[I’m surprised the UN would allow them to go so far,]” Hasina commented as she looked at a picture of a corpse burnt to a crisp. “[This seems oddly brutal.]”

That is did, which was why Saudia had been skeptical when Diguon had insisted it was XCOM who was behind it. The tactics seemed…off. Not what she’d expect from a government controlled military, let alone one under the control of the United Nations. This whole attack was a show of strength at the very least, demonstrated in the most basic and violent way possible.

Highly uncivilized. It quite honestly reminded her of the War on Terror and how the Commander conducted _that_ war. But it would take a lot more than one attack to really cause her uneasiness. She was not prone to the fear that had gripped those in the Caliphate, shortsighted fools they’d admittedly been.

“[It doesn’t really matter,]” Saudia finally said, shrugging. “[As unfortunate as it is, we have only lost one facility.]”

“[And our main way of getting weapons into Asia,]” Hasina reminded her.

“[Which is why contingencies exist,]” Saudia stated. “[This is an inconvenience, but not much more.]”

Hasina’s lips twitched. “[At the very least, we probably know where they’re going to go next.]”

Saudia nodded. “[Yes. I’ve appraised Matthew of the developments. Elizabeth will have some of her people keeping an eye out.]”

“[Good,]” Hasina noted. “[Speaking of which, what exactly has Elizabeth been doing with her time? Now would be ideal to start up her campaign.]”

“[She promised to have something soon,]” Saudia assured her. “[It will be “testing the waters” as she puts it. Now that we know they have some kind of intelligence force, they might have a propaganda arm as well.]”

“[I hate these unknowns,]” Hasina muttered, glaring at the holotable. “[I hope your source can clear most of this up.]”

“[He will,]” Saudia nodded. “[Patience, sister. We’ve waited this long, a month or two more won’t be the end. By then he’ll probably have a wealth of information to share.]”

Hasina snorted. “[Assuming of course that we don’t figure everything out on our own.]”

“[I highly doubt we’ll run into that issue,]” Saudia chuckled. “[I’ll remove him from all operations if that’s the case.]”

A smile grew on Hasina’s face. “[I can just imagine the call now,]” she smirked, as she imitated his voice. _“[Hello Director. You might be interested to know that XCOM has an Intelligence division and may use it against you. They also have a base of operations and they are fans of the Commander. Also they hate the aliens. See you next year.]”_

Saudia laughed, though mostly because it was the first time in a long time Hasina had attempted to crack a joke. “[That will _not_ happen.]”

“[But if it does I’ll just say I told you so,]” Hasina chuckled. Her face grew serious a few seconds later. “[I didn’t ask you, how are things at the Bastion?]”

“[Quiet,]” Saudia shrugged. “[Nothing really happens, though we’re making good progress on the psionic subjects. I think we’re getting close to repeating the procedure _safely_ with our own operatives.]”

“[Anything interesting?]” Hasina asked, leaning against the holotable as she cocked her head curiously.

“[Maybe not interesting, but psionics seems to react to each individual differently,]” Saudia explained. “[Each subject has been observed to have a completely different set of abilities from the other. It’s one of the things that’s giving the scientists so much trouble, it’s difficult to make the procedure safe when some react far more violently than others.]”

“[Is there no link between them?]” Hasina asked.

“[There are some similar genetic markers,]” Saudia answered. “[But there aren’t enough to establish an indisputable link between them.]”

“[Any of them in danger of escaping?]” Hasina wondered. “[Especially if they’re as powerful as you say.]”

“[As long as they have the chips in their head, they have no escape,]” Saudia dismissed. “[Subject Four is the most powerful, but she would not be able to escape, even with her substantial abilities.]”

Hasina cocked her head. “[And why is that?]”

Saudia looked up, contemplating. “[She lacks… _finesse._ She’s too driven by emotion, almost the perfect antithesis of what we strive to be. She has no control over her emotions; close to a dog let loose.]” Saudia smiled suddenly. “[That reminds me, the scientists have a rather cute name for the subjects.]”

Hasina sighed as she waited. “[Well, go ahead.]”

“[The Furies,]” Saudia answered. “[Which was _almost_ a perfect fit.]”

“[What the hell is a Fury?]” Hasina wondered, almost in disbelief. “[And what prompted _that_ discussion?]”

“[It was Ethan’s idea, I think,]” Saudia answered. “[He has a thing for mythology. Short version was that the three Furies were demons essentially, destructive beasts that only answered to Hades.]”

“[How symbolic,]” Hasina muttered. “[Though I do see one flaw, three Furies but four subjects. Which one pulled the short straw?”

“[Subject Four,]” Saudia answered. “[And for a while the scientists were very sad, and just kept calling her by her designation. Then one of them came up with a compromise. Subject Four is now referred to as Stheno.]”

“[That doesn’t exactly explain anything,]” Hasina sighed. “[Another Greek monster?]”

“[Pretty much,]” Saudia confirmed. “[Stheno was a gorgon, another demon of sorts. Like Medusa, only without the turning-to-stone ability. She was supposedly the most ferocious, rather fitting for our ill-controlled woman.]”

[Kind throws off the ring,]” Hasina commented. “[Calling them the “Furies and Gorgon” doesn’t exactly have the same ring.]”

“[They just kind of pretend Stheno was an honorary Fury,]” Saudia dismissed with a hand wave. “[I’m not that strict about dead mythologies.]”

“[As it should be,]” Hasina agreed. “[So once they’ve served their purpose, will you turn them over to the aliens?]”

“[At least a couple,]” Saudia answered. “[Not all of them, several could meet unfortunate deaths before then.]”

Hasina blew out a sigh. “[Let’s hope we reverse-engineer their tech quickly, this entire alliance makes me uneasy.]”

“[It should,]” Saudia agreed with a nod. “[But it’s a necessary step. I’ll be heading to the Eridan Headquarters to meet the geneticist Matthew recommended.]”

“[Tygan,]” Hasina recalled. “[I’d normally have an issue with that, but if it helps us end this alliance earlier, the better.]”

“[Don’t worry about that,]” Saudia shrugged. “[He’s contained; should he have a change of heart, we’ll just remove him.]”

“[That isn’t like you,]” Hasina frowned. “[Insinuations like that I’d expect from Zara.]”

“[We don’t have a choice,]” Saudia sighed. “[Too much rests on maintaining our secrecy, more so than my personal beliefs.]”

“[I suppose so,]” Hasina muttered sadly. “[But hopefully it won’t come to that.]”

“[Hopefully not,]” Saudia agreed as they looked down on the holotable. “[There’s enough death in the world without us adding to it.]”

***

_Brazil, Eridan EXALT Research Facility_

“The substance that the aliens have provided us allow us an unprecedented amount of genetic modification,” Darian explained as they walked away from her jet in the Eridan hangar. She didn’t plan to stay long, which Darian knew and thus got immediately down to business. “With Dr. Tygan working on it, we might be able to move to human testing in a matter of weeks.”

“Can we synthesize it?” Saudia asked as the door hissed closed behind her. “I’d imagine the aliens won’t be so willing to share after we break out alliance.”

“I haven’t begun to work on synthesizing it,” Darian admitted, shaking his head. “Understanding will come through working with it. Though looking at it through a microscope, it appears to be a kind of nanotechnology. If we get to the stage of synthesizing, it will be difficult.”

“But not impossible,” Saudia noted as they walked through an automated glass door. “So when you say genetic modification, how extensive are you talking about?”

Darian smiled. “Should my hypothesis prove correct, we can modify the human body to be whatever we want. Increased strength, intelligence, dexterity…we could create the perfect human.”

Interesting. She wondered if XCOM had also worked on this substance at all. Even if they were, it didn’t seem that they were making enough progress on it otherwise they’d have likely encountered genetically modified soldiers. She also doubted that XCOM would really extensively modify the body that much, the UN would probably see it as ‘unnatural.’

Well, she wouldn’t be nearly as shortsighted. In a way, this was a goal that EXALT had always worked towards. They could educate and train themselves to be the best that humanity had to offer, yet there were always limits imposed by genetics. Should those be removed, EXALT could finally embody the pinnacle of humanity.

“We have a chance to get ahead of XCOM,” Saudia muttered. “Excellent work, Darian.”

“Appreciated, Director,” he answered modestly, motioning towards a glass door. “After you.” She opened the door and stepped inside the research labs.

A rush of cold air blasted her the moment she stepped over the threshold. Not a surprise since most scientists preferred working in chilled environments. Nearly thirty men and women in lab attire were throughout the room, all conduct various tasks with vials, monitors and other kinds of lab equipment.

The white walls and tile added a bright _whiteness_ to the room, unconsciously emphasizing the immaculate state of the room, even on the tables where alien equipment was being meticulously disassembled.

“Big project,” she commented. “You have all of them working on this?”

“About half,” Darian answered, as he clasped his hands behind his back as he surveyed his scientists. “Many more and they just end up repeating the same tasks. No, I have several working in close conjunction with the Diguon’s team over in China. We find stuff he may have overlooked and vice-versa. With the weaponry we recovered from those XCOM operatives, I believe we’ll be developing laser weaponry within a week.”

Saudia’s lips curled into a smile. Excellent, on an even playing field, XCOM stood no chance. In the unlikely event that they somehow managed to gain a _different_ edge, all EXALT would need to do is win one engagement and collect their tech for reverse-engineers. A couple weeks later and XCOM would have lost any advantage.

“Is Tygan here?” She asked, glancing down at him.

Darian nodded towards the center of the room. “Yes. Right there.”

Saudia peered forward and saw a moderately tall, black-skinned man looking through a microscope wearing an EXALT lab coat. “How much does he know?” She asked, appraising him.

“I’ve told him that EXALT is an international coalition dedicated to reverse-engineering the alien’s technology to utilize against them,” Darian answered. “Showing him some videos and photos were enough to convince him I was genuine. I’m evaluating him currently to see if he’d be a good fit permanently.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Time to say hello.” With Darian at her side, she strode forward, taking care not to disturb the scientists in her path.

She cleared her throat. “Dr. Tygan?”

Tygan straightened up at her voice and straightened his glasses as he caught a glimpse of her. Just as collected as in his profile, he barely reacted or showed any surprise to seeing her. “Apologies,” he said in a deeper voice than she was expecting, while inclining his head in greeting. “I was distracted.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “No need, doctor. That is why you’re here, after all,” she extended a hand. “Saudia Vyandar, Director of EXALT.”

He took her hand with a firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you, Director.”

“I’m pleased you’ve taken an interest,” Saudia continued. “We can use as many people with your expertise as possible.”

“I admit, I was skeptical at first,” Tygan admitted. “But I was quickly proven wrong, and I would be remiss if I didn’t do everything possible to defeat these… _aliens._ ” His tone was borderline… _annoyed_ with the last word. Almost as if an invasion was a mere inconvenience for him.

“Can I assume that you’ve decided to accept our offer?” Saudia asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Tygan assured her. “In fact, I’ve already began my own work on this…substance…the aliens apparently use. Highly intriguing, if I do say so myself.”

Intriguing. Yes, that would be a word she’d use to describe technology literally from aliens. Tygan struck her as very dispassionate, not the least bit excited about working with such technology. She didn’t exactly want him throwing parties, but a _little_ passion wasn’t bad. “Any theories so far?” She asked.

“I have not had sufficient time to begin forming a comprehensive, and reasonably sound theory,” Tygan answered, shaking his head. “Yet I can say that this substance appears to be an excellent bonding agent, though for what, I cannot say yet.”

A “no”, would have sufficed, but she just chalked it up to his personality. “Well, I hope your research is productive,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that time is somewhat of the essence.”

“Of course, Director,” Tygan agreed in his oddly calm voice. “I will personally ensure that tangible results are delivered as soon as possible.”

That was good enough for her, and Darian would be sure to make it happen. “I look forward to seeing your work,” she said, inclining her head. “I’ll let you return to work now.”

“Thank you, Director,” Tygan responded as he turned back to his microscope. “You will not be disappointed.

She turned around and walked out of the labs, Darian close behind her. With that order of business out of the way, it was time to return to the Bastion. Well, after discussing a few more things with Darian, namely Brazil.

***

_The Bastion, Bedroom_

“Sounds like Darian’s making good progress,” Ethan commented as they snuggled together on the couch. Ethan had his arm around her while she rested her head on his shoulder. It had been a long day and she figured she deserved a break, even a short one.

“At least he seems to be,” Saudia half-muttered, her eyes closed as she rested. “He could be making all the stuff up. _I’m_ not a scientist.”

Ethan’s chest vibrated as he chuckled. “Yeah, I really don’t think he’d do that. Not if he wanted to live, at any rate.”

“Good point,” she agreed wearily. Neither of them talked for a few minutes.

“Your family visit go well?” Ethan finally asked, his voice deliberately neutral. She’d wondered how long it would take before he brought that up. Despite wanting to, and making some attempts, he hadn’t exactly…assimilated…with the Vyandar family at large. Much as she’d tried to smooth things over, not many were receptive to allowing an American into their family.

Realizing he wasn’t really helping anything, Ethan essentially avoided contact with any Vyandar outside the Bastion. She didn’t blame him at all for the split, and some of her own relationships with her family had deteriorated as a result. She and Hasina had eventually managed to reach an understanding, but sadly, she and Mother had not.

It was one of the few times she’d actually disagreed with Father, who’d without a doubt been the most supportive of both of them. Saudia was sad that it had come to it, but didn’t regret her decision one bit. Oddly enough, she’d probably taken more issue than Ethan would have. If faced with unwinnable arguments, he’d shrug and move on where she’d at least try and defend her position.

“Fine,” she finally answered quietly. “Father is doing well, pretty much resigned since there’s nothing the doctors can do.”

“A shame,” Ethan sighed. “He was a good man.”

“He was,” Saudia agreed. “He won’t be replaced easily.”

“Hasina taking it alright?”

Saudia shrugged into his chest. “More or less. I think she’s still hoping Darian manages to create a cure. But deep down she knows it’s not possible. I’m glad she’s there though, makes it easier for both of them.”

“Anything else you discuss?” Ethan asked.

“The Russian facility attack,” Saudia answered. “She initially didn’t think it was XCOM either. Too brutal, was her reasoning.”

“Quite honestly, she has a point,” Ethan muttered, shifting on the couch. “Had I also not seen the latest report, I’d have wondered the same thing. This was as close to a terror attack as I’ve ever seen from the UN. During the War on Terror, the Commander even referred to them as such, go in, kill everyone and leave nothing but devastation. All that was really missing were some of our soldiers propped up on crosses.”

“Is it really that similar?” Saudia asked skeptically, opening her eyes.

“Maybe not,” Ethan answered. “But it did get our attention, which is what I suspect was their goal all along.”

“At least we can likely predict where their next target is,” Saudia muttered, closing her eyes again. “Matthew is going to be thrilled.”

“In all likelihood he will be,” Ethan commented ruefully. “At the very least he’ll be more amused than concerned.”

“Especially since we’ll be expecting them,” Saudia added as an afterthought. “So,” she asked after a few seconds. “Anything happen here?”

“Nothing major, obviously,” Ethan answered easily. “No snowstorms either, so I took Martel on a short hunting trip. He seemed to like that.”

She smiled at the thought. “Good. A break from routine never hurts.”

“Yep, I think it’s time to start some more physical training with him,” Ethan suggested, pulling her closer. “It’ll give him an edge when he’s sent to the Gauntlet.”

Saudia snorted. “Thinking _way_ ahead, I see. I don’t think we need to worry about sending him for another…what, _nine_ years? I wasn’t sent over until I was sixteen, and I don’t want to send him earlier than that.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan conceded. “I guess I’m just concerned. The world isn’t exactly stable right now. I’d feel better knowing he could defend himself competently at least.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “Yes, so do I. But it’s hard enough on him being the only child here, let alone that both of us are often busy. I don’t want to put more stress on him than he already has.”

“I’d do it with him,” Ethan said. “That might help.”

She smiled and they stayed that way for a few minutes. “I really want to go to sleep,” Saudia murmured. “Don’t let me.”

“You could just go to bed a few hours early,” Ethan suggested wryly. “No one would be hurt from that.”

She groaned, because that sadly _was_ very tempting at the moment. “Don’t give any more ideas.”

He gave a light laugh and leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it-“ A shrill beep interrupted whatever he was going to say, coming from the wristband on his left arm. Saudia reluctantly pushed herself off him to give him space.

While his face clearly showed annoyance, his tone was as professional as always as he answered the call. “Chief Operative Vyandar, what’s the situation?”

She couldn’t hear what he was being told, but since his expression went from annoyed to concerned within seconds, it was enough to fully wake her up. “Understood,” Ethan stated curtly, the tenseness in his voice concerning her. “I’ll inform the Director at once.” He clicked off his earpiece and focused immediately on her.

“What is it?” She demanded, instinctively straightening her hair.

“It seems our alien friends have decided to pay us a visit,” Ethan stated coldly, though his tone was clearly not directed at her. “A UFO is set to land within minutes.”

Her eyes widened as she pulled on her boots. “I didn’t schedule this, before you ask.”

“I figured as much,” Ethan answered as he stood and began putting on his uniform. “This is not good.”

An understatement if she’d ever heard one. There could be a number of reasons the aliens were deciding to pay a visit, and none of them were beneficial. Still, it was a massive breach in etiquette, and one she was going to hammer home to whatever spokes…man, the aliens decided to send down.

After getting herself into a decent state, she turned around to find Ethan in his full battle armor, much different from his dress uniform. Like all EXALT battle armor, this was based on the Venator armor, but Ethan also wore Kevlar helmet with a small visor that just reached over his eyes. His bandanna was still in plain view, but his helmet was much safer than wearing nothing.

“I’ve ordered the rest of the soldiers to prepare,” Ethan stated as he adjusted his rifle. “You’re getting a full detail until we know why they’re here.”

Under normal circumstances, that was something she would have refused. Full details were stifling and implied she couldn’t defend herself, but in this case it might be warranted. At the moment, more soldiers on her side might give the aliens pause for whatever plans they had.

“Let’s go,” she said, striding towards the exit. Ethan nodded and fell into step beside her. Along the way to the hangar, Saudia saw several more EXALT soldiers moving around briskly as they prepared to defend the Bastion should things go horribly wrong. To date, this was actually the first time the security protocols were actually put into practice.

The Bastion had never been threatened before, but there was a first time for everything.

But as it stood now, Saudia realized just how understaffed they were. Once this was over, she was going to make sure they were fully staffed for the remainder of this war. “The UFO has touched down,” Ethan informed her as they approached the hangar entrance. “No sign of anything exiting.”

They reached the hangar door where five other EXALT soldiers in battle armor stood waiting. All snapped to attention as she approached. “Open the hangar door,” she ordered. “That’s what they’re waiting for.”

Ethan gave the order as she turned to the soldiers. “Do not act unless I give the order or they attack first,” she ordered, clasping her hands behind her back. “Do not be provoked, no matter how difficult it becomes. Understood.”

“Yes, Director!” They answered with affirming nods.

“Fall in line,” she snapped as she moved to open the door. With three soldiers on her left and three on her right, she opened the door and strode into the near-empty hangar. The massive door squealed open and Saudia was hit by a chilling wind that sapped all her body heat out.

Directly in front of the hangar was the UFO, what appeared to be the exact same one that had landed the first time. Interesting that even through the snow whipping around, she could still feel the faint pulse it emitted. The shimmering multi-colored shield around the opening vanished and out stepped the Speaker, who was flanked by four of the mutons and two more doppelgangers pushing a pod of some kind.

Good, not nearly enough soldiers to put up a fight, so this was probably intended to be a peaceful visit. As both parties walked closer, Saudia became very interested in the two doppelgangers, as each one was a marked improvement in the field of human mimicry.

One was a brown-haired man, wearing shades instead of spectacles and didn’t have the neck spots that were on the Speaker. Still, they were exactly the same height, and their faces were almost completely identical. The other was a woman, who had clearly been designed with only beauty in mind.

Her pale skin was flawless and her raven hair fell just past her shoulders when the wind settled. The aliens still hadn’t seemed to get the face right thought, because despite her beauty…there was something _off_ about it. It was completely lacking emotion or empathy or any sort, almost as though it was nothing more than a mask. The spectacles she wore didn’t exactly change that image either.

They finally stopped about halfway from the hangar and waited for the alien entourage to arrive. The Speaker was wearing a smile that she assumed was supposed to be friendly, but instead struck her as…eerie. It didn’t look right at _all_. “Director,” he greeted cordially, in his familiar oily voice. “I’m pleased to be welcomed so quickly.”

Fine. She could be cordial. “The same to you, Speaker,” she answered, standing firm. “Though I must say, I was not expecting your arrival.”

“Neither was I, to be honest,” the alien answered almost cheerfully. “But the Elders requested that I visit you. It would be irresponsible and disrespectful of us to ignore our allies in this war against XCOM.”

“Of course,” Saudia answered, trying to convey agreeableness. “Though in the future, we would request that you inform us before landing at our base of operations.”

“Director,” the alien tsked, shaking his head. “I get the impression that our arrival is inconvenient for you, and while I understand the apprehension, I can assure you that we mean you no harm.”

“We have no fear of that,” Saudia lied, fully aware of the very armed soldiers beside her. “I did not mean for my words to sound accusatory.”

“Is that right?” The alien smiled knowingly, which actually appeared to be genuine. “You have _quite_ a heavily armored escort for a woman who has no fear.”

“I might ask you the same,” she responded, nodding towards the hulking mutons wielding plasma rifles.

“A good point,” the alien chucked, once more sounding forced. “Might we move somewhere not quite as windy?” He asked, spreading his hand out towards the hangar. “I promise we will not stay long.”

Saudia stepped to the side, allowing him a clear path to the hangar. “After you.” The alien nodded and stepped forward and the entourage moved to follow. Were this a normal meeting, Saudia might have allowed that. But as it stood now, the aliens needed a reminder that they wouldn’t be pushed around.

She raised a fist and in unison, the EXALT soldiers raised their rifles at the encroaching mutons and doppelgangers. The aliens froze and the Speaker looked at her in surprise. “Your escort will remain outside,” she stated, keeping her tone reasonable. “They will not be necessary for you to conduct whatever business is necessary.”

The Speaker looked torn between surprise and annoyance. “I do not believe that is your call to make, _Director_.”

The arrogance he had to actually say those words. Straightening to her full height, she looked the alien directly in the eye. “I have every right, _Speaker_. You are not within your own territory now, the Bastion is under control of EXALT and we have our _own_ rules and standards. Had you informed us of this visit beforehand, we would be able to…” she eyed the green-armored brutes. “ _Accommodate_ your escort. As it stands right now, they pose a security risk.”

The Speaker eyed her skeptically. “And there is no way to… _accommodate_ them, as you put it.”

“I’m afraid not,” Saudia responded, putting a touch of sorrow in her voice. “As I’m sure you can understand, protocols have to be followed. I assume that your superiors would feel the same should we have made an…unexpected visit.”

The Speaker’s lips twitched. “You are clever, Director, and raise a… _fair_ point.” Saudia could see him processing how he wanted to handle this. After a few seconds, he visibly relaxed and gave her a toothless smile. “Very well, I will comply. Though I will require him to accompany me.” He pointed toward the doppelganger behind the hovering pod.

“May I ask why?” Saudia demanded.

The alien opened his mouth, then paused. “Let us discuss this further inside, Director.” Without waiting for her, he walked towards the hangar and she followed him. Once they were inside, the alien stopped and stood in place.

“I will be brief, Director,” the Speaker stated, his tone _much_ less cordial now. “We have provided you with an ample amount and will continue to do so,” he paused. “Now…while we appreciate you help by means of intelligence and knowledge of the world as it is, we require some more…tangible compensation.”

Saudia frowned. “What could you require from us? Money? Resources?”

The alien gave her a chilling, reptilian smile. “You are bold, Director, but you are not naïve. Think very hard about what could interest us.”

It was pretty clear. “You would like one of our psionic subjects.”

“Correct.” The Speaker stated slowly and clearly, emphasizing the word. “A trifle, for what we give in return.”

“A perfectly reasonable request,” Saudia answered cordially. “However, we are still testing our subjects. Once-“

“ _Then make more_ ,” the alien hissed, his mask of civility dropping for a second as he spun sharply to face her. “Let me be _completely_ clear, Director. This is _not_ a request.”

A frosty silence fell between them. At the moment, Saudia _did_ feel like she could successfully prevent the aliens from taking one of their psionics. However, the way this meeting had gone so far, she had a feeling that the aliens would at the minimum break off their alliance or retaliate with more force.

As much as she hated it, it would be wiser to comply with the aliens demands at the moment. They could afford to lose one subject, and quite honestly, the Speaker did have a point. They _could_ replicate the catalyst experiment. And it would very likely work on a few more subjects. Logistics-wise, it would be a nightmare, but if need be, it was possible.

But she would prefer to avoid it.

Unfortunately, it appeared they were going to lose one of their subjects. Well, if that was the case, she could at least choose which one she was going to lose. Subject Seven, or “Alecto” as he’d been dubbed, was probably the most expendable. There was no way she was giving up Subjects Eleven and Four, and there was enough they could still learn with Twelve to make him worth keeping.

“Very well,” Saudia finally said. “We can afford to spare one subject. I hope your superiors will find this satisfactory.”

“I can assure you, they will.” The Speaker assured her, regaining his familiar calm.

Saudia turned on her heel. “Come. I will escort you to the subject myself, we will allow your subordinate to help load him into your pod.”

“That will suffice,” the Speaker agreed. “Please, lead the way.”

***

_The Bastion, Subject Cells_

Annette took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She was surprisingly calm, all things considered. The past few…what was it? Days? Weeks? It didn’t matter. All had been focused on one goal: escape. She could now focus the information from the various minds she sensed to pick out specific words.

It was still information overload, and she had to struggle to pick out clear sentences, but what she _had_ managed to learn from her two guards had been instrumental. She’d tried to mentally contact Fatima after that…experiment. But had been unable to find her mind, or for that matter, any of the others.

She was torn between trying to free them as well, or just escaping on her own. The thing was, she had no idea where they were being kept and only had the vaguest direction of where to go to escape, thanks to a brief image of a map she’d seen from one of the guards. Staying would just increase the chance of her being caught.

As to how she would escape…it essentially relied on her being able to successfully control one of the guards. Which she _had_ managed to do, briefly. The downside was that it required all of her concentration, since taking full control essentially reduced them to automatons with no free will or thought.

Influencing might have worked better, but she was nowhere skilled enough to try that for an extended period of time and have it succeed. Now, as far as she could tell, there was only one reliable way out of this base: the supply planes, which came every Thursday. Those would be her escape.

She was either going to leave today or die. She’d been tempted to wait another week and hone her abilities more, but given how she’d picked up enough words recently describing how one of the psionic subjects had been “removed,” she couldn’t risk staying longer and then being “removed” as well.

She closed her fists and tapped into the power that was just waiting inside her. It was almost becoming second nature now. Her vision became a tinged purple and with waves of energy running up and down her arms, she stood, internally screaming as the psionic power tore open her skin again.

The first move was to disable the hidden cameras. Fortunately, she knew where they were, or at least the general area. When she had briefly taken control, she noticed a panel that displayed her from several different angles. That had been enough to pinpoint the general area of the cameras.

She raised her right hand, the swirling purple energy forming into a ball and directed it at the right corner. It hit the area and dispersed a sizzling shockwave a couple feet in diameter. Hopefully that had taken it out. Wasting no time, she repeated the attack on the opposite corner and finally, the ceiling area over her bed.

Task one done. Now to make sure it had succeeded. The two soldier’s minds closest to her were practically blazing, as a side effect of using her power was that it amplified her ability to sense and control minds.

Everything was clearer in this state. She heard full sentences and thoughts, emotions and images washed over her and she wished she could retain this level of clarity when not high on power. Without bothering to influence, she targeted the closed guard and took full control.

She closed her eyes, otherwise his vision would superimpose itself over her own, which would only cause distraction. She experimented, moving her head side to side. It was strange, taking control like this. She felt nothing from the man, or sense any thoughts. She wasn’t sure if her control stopped them, or she simply couldn’t hear anymore.

It was almost like controlling a human robot. Actually, that’s _exactly_ what it was like. Except all she had to do was think a command and he’d do it. It was easy when she was standing still, but she had tried it once while moving on her own and it had been…difficult, to say the least.

She’d controlled both guards, and knew the arsenal they both carried, so she had a plan of how to attack. The rifles they both held would be effective, but would be loud and she needed stealth at the moment. Thus the knives strapped to their waists were the best way.

Time to act. She forced the man to raise his hand to the left, pointing at something. “You see that?”

The other guard looked over, frowning. “What-“

Annette had the man draw his knife and bury the blade deep in the man’s throat. As the other guard started ahead in shock, blood leaking out the corner of his mouth, Annette had her controlled guard slam him to the ground, using the knife. Blood was now leaking from the wound, covering the hand that held the knife.

He was likely dead. But Annette wasn’t feeling like taking chances today. She pulled the knife from the throat with an awful sucking sound and buried it in the guard’s eye, then twisted. The body barely moved. Good, he was dead. She had the controlled guard pull the knife away and stand. His card should be….there.

With the access card, she had him use it to open the door which slid open. Elation burst through her. _Stay_. She ordered the guard, as she briefly relinquished control. The commander would work for a few minutes and she quickly dashed out of her cell and into the hallway. A smile grew on her face.

It wasn’t freedom, not yet. But she was closer than she’d been in months.

The guard was standing over his friend, a vacant expression on his face and his hands hanging limply at his side, blood dripping from the one holding the knife. She appraised him, considering how best to remove him. In the end, there was only one way that seemed fitting.

_“Follow my motions,”_ she ordered, her voice amplified as the power coursed through her, giving her words the necessary persuasion to affect his frozen mind. He simply looked at her, waiting. Looking into his dead eyes, she raised her right hand and he mimicked her exactly.

She moved her hand up by her throat, adjusting slightly until he placed the knife he was holding on his own neck. One clean motion, that’s all it would take. She ran her own hand slowly and firmly across her neck and he repeated, though only getting halfway before collapsing to the ground, clutching his throat.

But the damage had been done, and as his blood poured onto the ground, she knew he would bleed out within minutes. He gurgled, probably trying to shout or scream as he thrashed, terror in his eyes. She’d used to hate the sight of blood, now it barely affected her at all.

She kneeled down and took the knife from the blood-slicked floor, and wiped the blood off the blade using a rag on the first dead guard. Right, now here came the hard part. The chip that shocked her had to be removed else they would just use it to debilitate her once they discovered her escape.

It might be possible to get on the plane and leave before they noticed her gone, but she couldn’t risk that happening. Fortunately, they’d done it enough times that she had a good idea of where the source was coming from. Unfortunately, it seemed to be in her neck and the only sure way to remove it was to cut it out.

She’d considered some way to neutralize it with her psionics, but had that been the case, she figured she would have fried it by now. She took a breath and gathered swirling energy in her palm and placed it on her neck. Should she mess up here, the best case was probably paralysis. Worst was death.

She’d run through her mind several times what she was going to do here. The chip would probably be able to be felt at a certain point, but she couldn’t waste time trying to locate it. Better to…weaken the skin around her neck, acidify it slightly and have it melt and harden in a way, then form around the chip.

She’d tried it on her arm, and using the psionic mist that occasionally burst from her skin would have that effect. She gathered it up and quickly placed her palm on her neck, and fell to the floor as the mist ate away at her skin. It took every ounce of self-control not to scream, but screaming would draw attention.

A seconds later when the pain had receded, she began poking the skin around her neck, whimpering as each movement brought a new version of agony. _There_! It had to be that, a tiny metallic rectangle. Focusing on that, she brought the knife over the spot on her neck and placed the tip there and made a small incision.

The cool blade was almost a relief and she added a horizontal slash to make getting the chip out easier. That done, she dug in with her fingers to get a bloody and slippery hold on the chip.

One, two, three…

She pulled and couldn’t suppressed a short scream as she ripped it off her skin. Breathing heavily, she looked at the chip briefly, noting the wires coming out of it, then tossed it away and stood up.

She was back to normal now, the pain had caused her to lose control of the power, and now she felt exhausted. But she had to go on, there was no choice, and someone had probably heard that scream. She tried recalling the map she’d seen from the now-deceased guard.

Left, straight ahead, then right would take her up a floor. Then….straight ahead then right. Follow the path and the hangar would be the sixth right. Hopefully they had signs if this was wrong. At least she could detect if they were close, since they couldn’t hide their minds from her.

Grabbing the knife, she began quietly walking down the hallway. Struggling to keep moving and simultaneously remain conscious of EXALT guards heading her way. Fortunately, there was no one immediately close to her, and at the end of the hallway was an elevator. She scowled, knowing that would be her death should anyone be waiting at the top.

But she had no choice and stumbled into the elevator and managed to press the first floor button. Bleeding, exhausted and almost unconscious, she leaned against the walls of the elevator, trying to rest some. She was aware of a bunch of minds above her, but none seemed near to her destination.

With an annoyingly happy _ding_ , the elevator opened and she stepped onto an ornate red carpet. No one so far, and she stumbled through the hallway and at the end noticed the best thing that could possibly happen.

A map!

She let out a broken laugh of disbelief, praying she wasn’t hallucinating and went towards it. After staring at it a few minutes, she thanked the OCD person who’d marked every single part of the “Bastion” as it was apparently called. Now she knew exactly where to go.

She nodded and began moving to the left when she saw something that had completely slipped her mind. A security camera.

She’d been so focused on the ones in her cell that she hadn’t even thought of the ones throughout the rest of this base. These ones appeared to be automated, sweeping back and forth, so she could time it so it wouldn’t see her. But it was going to complicate things if she ran into soldiers.

She waited a few seconds and dashed directly under the camera, waited for it to move to scan the area she’d been and sprinted as fast as her screaming lungs would allow to the following hallway. The good news was that the hangar wasn’t far….

She froze as she felt two people approaching, better yet, heard their voices. She was too exhausted to focus on what they were saying, and instead gathered all of her remaining energy into one, final, command that she prayed would penetrate their minds.

She stepped out in front of two EXALT guards, a man and a woman, who both immediately raised their rifles, eyes widening. “Who-“

_“Stop!”_ She commanded, raising her hand, the briefest flicker of psionic energy gathering. She pressed that word against their minds as hard as she could, through their rush of words, images and feelings.

_“Stop!”_ She repeated as she stumbled closer, their bodies frozen and shaking as their minds struggled against her will. Once she was almost inches away she thrust the knife in her hand into the throat of the woman, pulled it out and plunged it into the throat of the man. After keeping them in place a second longer, she waited until she was behind them and released them.

Both soldiers fell to the ground with loud thuds, and she glanced back in exhaustion, noting curiously that their blood faded into the carpet pretty well. She had to get out of here now. The hangar was _just_ over there. Luckily it had a very helpful sign saying _hangar_ over it.

She reached it, resting her weight on the handle, and after taking a few seconds to recover, pushed it open and was greeted with what was arguably the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

A massive cargo plane, which had been heavily modified and streamlined to accommodate for the cold was being unpacked and loaded. Collapsing behind some boxes, she realized she had yet another problem.

How was she going to get on board without them noticing?

The hangar was extremely cold, judging from how bundled the men and woman unloading the cargo plane were, but she barely noticed. Rationally, that was a bad sign, but right now she didn’t especially care that much, since it actually seemed a relief for the pain.

She watched them for a minute. Right. It looked like they were loading up the crates on the far left of the plane and placing the unloaded crates on the left. Excellent, since she was on the right. All she had to do was get into one of those crates and hope they didn’t check them inside.

Reinvigorated from the cold, she quickly moved over to the crate area, keeping behind the empty crates and equipment that littered the hangar. At least these crates weren’t wooden, nailed boxes. No, these were sealed, some even not requiring a lock at all. She spotted one that would probably fit her and quickly opened it, and looked around to make sure no one was looking and practically fell inside.

To make sure she didn’t suffocate, she lodged a small piece of…what was she on, metal? She lodged it between the cover and crate to allow for some air. Hopefully the people loading wouldn’t notice.

For what seemed like ages, she waited until she finally felt the package begin moving. The two workers were chatting about something, but she was almost unconscious and couldn’t focus on what they were saying.

Annette felt the crate finally settle and heard the footsteps fade and a few minutes later, the beautiful sounds of an engine fired up and she felt the plane begin moving. She smiled to herself as she finally fell into unconsciousness.

She’d done it. She was free.

 

 

 

 

 


	19. UFO Assault: Large UFO

 

_The Citadel, Training Area_

Creed violently threw her to the ground as she once again failed to predict his moves. Everything in his body language indicated two left steps and then a sharp right attack. But no, he’d just dashed in front of her, lifted her off a few inches and threw her to the ground. Times like this she realized just how much stronger than her he actually was.

“You fell for it again,” Creed tsked as he circled her, no sign of amusement on his face. Though if Patricia concentrated a little, she could sense the jumps of amusement that rippled through him. Despite what he showed, he seemed to be enjoying this a little too much.

She could sympathize, he’d put up with her tampering with his mind, even if they weren’t making as much progress as she’d like.

A few more tests with Creed and she’d gotten the basic emotional manipulation down, which essentially boiled down to two methods. Brute force, by which she’d force whatever emotion she wanted on the person in question, which could lead to some rather unexpected outbursts.

The thing she’d found with brute-forcing it was that it was only temporary, and Creed had known he was being manipulated afterwards, so it’s effects would depend on how successful she was, though Creed was an excellent person to test on, since he’d been able to resist her attempts several times, usually at her insistence.

The second method was far harder and more subtle, directly using memories and thought of the person to achieve the desired result. _That_ she still hadn’t been able to replicate, aside from that first time she’d found some accidentally and unintentionally used them. What she needed to work on was actually reading the mind of a person, and fully _understanding_ it.

She could listen to the voices around her, but making sense of it was like being stuck in traffic during rush hour, trying to find one very specific car. It was staggering how many thoughts were formed, processed and vanished within the span of seconds, creating mental white-noise that hid the actual coherent thoughts.

She was tired of picking out odd images, words and feelings. But it was proving to be frustrating. She hadn’t even begun to think about how to access memories, but that would come, it had too. It _was_ possible to at least view them, but Patricia didn’t know how to access them directly.

So, while taking a break, Creed had suggested a way to improve her concentration and reaction at the same time. She would use her psionics to predict his attacks, and then react accordingly.

A simple task, she’d thought, it couldn’t be more difficult than this.

It was not.

She’d never thought how difficult it was to both move and use her abilities at the same time. Her constant movement made it difficult to concentrate, especially while she was also watching Creed for visual cues as to when he’d attack. But when she’d actually try and concentrate, she’d unconsciously stop, giving Creed the opportunity to charge in and knock her to the ground.

As he’d just done.

“You should have gone left,” she groaned as she pushed herself up, glaring at him. His lips twitched.

“I did that to make a point,” Creed noted dryly. “Stop watching my motions. Quit paying attention to my body language. Whatever you see is what I _want_ you to see. Try to predict my movements on what your eyes can see and I’ll beat you every time,” he said as he tapped the side of head sarcastically. “Remember this? Stop letting me beat you up and use that intelligent mind of yours. This is rather disappointing, to be honest.”

She gritted her teeth, not quite sure how to take that. “That was either a nice insult or a _very_ backhanded compliment,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Which is it?”

“Read my mind and find out,” Creed challenged, beginning to pace back and forth.

At the beginning, she would have likely tried something like that. But now she was just tired, both of the training and Creed’s smug jests. She took a firm stance and raised her gauntleted fists, watching the relaxed SEAL.

So how to get inside his head and still have a chance?

She was out of options. Time to actually go on the attack, because what did she have to lose? Everything outside of Creed faded as she let all the frustration and anger of the last few hours bubble to the surface, the air rippled around her as she lowered her armed and stormed toward Creed to beat him up.

His amused look turned to surprised and he raised his fists and took a stance as he prepared to defend against her. She threw a punch with her left fist and at the same time focused her thoughts into a pinpoint and focused directly on Creed.

She was instantly swamped with meaningless chatter and images, but the clarity her emotions brought disregarded that and focused on two imaged clearer than the rest. From Creed’s perspective, she saw him first block her punch, then a two quick strikes to her chest with his opposing hand.

This flashed though her mind in milliseconds and the moment Creed blocked her punch, she spun around his left side as he threw a quick punch where her chest had been. Just as she’d seen.

No, _predicted_.

Unbalanced, he quickly tried to turn around, but not quick enough as Patricia kicked him in the back. He didn’t quite fall to the ground, but instead used that to go into a roll and come back up faced against her. His expression was now one of elation, much to her chagrin. She scowled, not in the mood and focused her thoughts directly on him.

She witnessed his plot an attack from different angles, all happening within milliseconds before he seemed to decide on one. Other flashes of other attacks still appeared, but she figured that the clearest one was likely what he was going to do.

With speed that belied his size, Creed charged her, left, right, left, just as she’d seen. Next would follow two alternate punches and then a surprise kick to unbalance her. She knew if those failed, he’d follow up with two quick punches to her chest. Should those succeed, he’d strike her unbalanced side.

It would be better to let him succeed, though the issue then became how to fake it or worse, let him hit her and negate the damage. She could block the punches, her appearing to be unbalanced was what was important.

He closed in on her and threw alternating punches, both of which she blocked easily. Now came the kick, She let it land on her left leg and pulled it back just milliseconds before his full weight could be put on it. She let herself stumble to keep up the illusion.

Her flank exposed, she knew exactly where Creed would attack, and as he moved to punch her to the ground, she quickly pivoted to the side, letting him stumble forward and then thrust her palm toward his chest. A surge of power abruptly rushed through her and a faint purple shockwave burst from her palm outward as it connected with his chest.

Creed was thrown back almost five feet, rolling over until he came to a stop at the edge of the training mat.

The world came rushing back to her as she realized what she’d done. “Damn it!” she swore frantically as she rushed over to Creed’s motionless body. She quickly knelt down and rolled him over to his back.

“Hey! Get up!” She told him, slapping his lightly on the cheek. Nothing. Damn, he seemed fine and was breathing normally. She placed her fingers on his neck and his pulse was strong, nor did any of his bones seem broken or damaged, minus bruising of course. No, it seemed she’d knocked him unconscious.

She’d worry about _how_ she’d done that later. Right now, she might as well test the limits of her abilities, or at least experiment with them. She placed her palm on his forehead and closed her eyes. The white noise that normally accompanied his mind was faded, almost non-existent.

All she needed was to project something. She ultimately decided on two words.

_Wake up._

He gasped and jerked up, eyes wide and panting. She immediately put her arm around his shoulder to support him. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Calm down.”

He gave a brief nod and a few seconds later, the panicked look in his eyes faded and he shook his head. “That…wow…uh, how did you _do_ that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, sitting on the ground beside him to get more comfortable. “It was…almost instinct. I just reacted and knew exactly what to do.”

“Huh,” Creed muttered, confused. “Well, it’s an interesting development. You seemed to be doing pretty well without that extra…push.”

“Yeah,” Patricia muttered as she looked away. “I…guess it worked.”

“All we need to do is get you agitated, I guess,” Creed noted with a smile. “You become a lot more focused when angry.”

The way he said it, she wasn’t sure if he meant it in a good way or not. She didn’t really know either. Anger had always been her ultimate fallback, what she drew upon when nothing else worked. And there was a _lot_ to draw upon. But…she wasn’t sure she wanted that as her primary source of power.

“I need to get better at managing it,” she admitted. “I don’t want to rely on that.”

“I agree,” Creed nodded, wincing. “But you don’t go to it first, which is a good sign. Hopefully you know a better idea of what to do now.”

She eyed him worriedly. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I have a massive headache,” he answered, waving a hand dismissively. “But I’ll live. Should really expect it after getting thrown around like that.”

“Sorry,” she apologized again. “I really didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’d have figured you’d have at least warned me if you could do that.”

She smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not if I wanted to surprise you.”

“Uh-huh, because that’s definitely something you would do,” Creed noted wryly. “You can let go of my shoulder now, I can support myself.”

Oh, right. She realized she still had her arm around him. Well, he was definitely awake now, no need to keep helping him. She pulled her arm back and instead clasped his arm and hauled him to his feet, then let go.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Patricia said, going to get a drink from her water bottle. “You’re sufficiently tired.”

“Me?” he snorted. “You get that from my mind or just guessing?”

“Both, I guess,” she shrugged and took another sip. “You feel exhausted, and after our…what, four-hour workout, I’d think it perfectly reasonable.”

Creed appraised her, something in his eyes she couldn’t quite place. “So, I’m curious. How much can you… _read_ a person now, for lack of a better word?”

She took a seat on the bench and he took one right beside her. “I can get a pretty good read on emotions now,” she answered seriously, since she felt he deserved to know. “Like I can tell if you’re angry, happy or sad just from being around you. If I concentrate specifically on you, I’ll be able to get a more accurate reading, naturally.”

He nodded, cocking his head. “You have another water bottle?”

She winced. “Nope, sorry.”

“Not your problem,” he waved his hand. “Was stupid not to bring more of my own.”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed.

“So, when you sense someone, can you tell who it is?” Creed continued, resting his hands on his legs. “Or is it just…blank?”

Patricia hesitated. “Technically, yes,” she answered hesitantly. “Each…person, I guess, is unique. Like when I sense you…I _know_ it’s you, though it’s only because I’m familiar with you. I can tell each person is unique, but I can’t get much more unless I either figure it out myself, or read their mind.”

“So the mind-reading is what you’re struggling with,” Creed pinpointed, nodding, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I thought you said you could hear people’s thoughts?”

Patricia leaned back. “I _can_. It’s still there, at the back of my mind. I’m too tired and am used to it by now that it doesn’t really bother me anymore, but if I listen, they’re all there. The problem is that so much of it is jumbled, congealed and loud that I can’t get anything useful out of it,” she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, deliberately ignoring the voices around her.

“If I do manage to pinpoint a mind, I run into the same problem,” she continued. “You have thousands of tiny, half-formed thoughts that are created and dismissed within milliseconds without you ever realizing it. It creates something like white noise, making it extremely difficult to find the coherent thoughts and images. That’s why I can’t tell exactly what you’re thinking now.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he said, his features relaxing and morphed into contemplation. “You mind if I ask a question?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him curiously. “That sounds ominous, but sure.”

“Right,” he continued. “Do you want to read minds?”

She paused before answering, because honestly, that hadn’t been her concern. The actual ramifications of these powers were extensive, yet she’d pushed them to the side and as a result, wasn’t sure her answer would satisfy him. She lifted her water bottle and tossed it to him. “You ok with sharing?”

He caught it. “Sure. I’ve probably drunk worse.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically and he took a drink.

“I don’t know,” she finally said after a minute of silence. Staring straight ahead, she tried voicing the complicated and conflicting emotions she had. “I’ve not really thought about it _that_ way, to be honest. I’ve just been so focused on mastering these abilities that I’ve never really focused on the….well, consequences,” she sighed.

“This can be a potent weapon. If I can predict the aliens, or for that matter, anyone else who tried to harm me or my soldiers, then yes, I want to know how to read minds. The thing is, I’m not sure that I can switch this off once I get better. I can now sense people’s emotions instinctively without even trying. I’m not sure I want to extend that to reading minds.

 **“** I suppose I want it to be my choice,” Patricia admitted. “I don’t want to know everyone’s secrets, but at the same time want to use it to increase our chances of survival. I told you about Newfoundland, how I…linked everyone, and it worked. But I did it without them knowing, and I’m not sure that’s right or not.”

She shrugged again. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“I disagree,” Creed stated flatly, shaking his head emphatically. “Had you not said so, I would have guessed you’d put quite a bit of thought into it. I want just curious as to how you viewed this power.”

“You don’t need to hide it,” Patricia pointed out. “I know that this is dangerous, that it can be abused. But I don’t know how I can really prevent that.”

Creed looked ahead for a moment. “I’d say, keep the mindset you have now. Your powers are a tool, and I would suggest you use them as such. When you see a situation that calls for your powers, use them. Don’t hold back.”

They were both silent for a while. “I don’t think I can really keep this a secret much longer,” she admitted, an inevitability she’d realized over the previous days. “Someone is going to get suspicious, if they aren’t al-“ she inhaled sharply as she sensed a person with an icy calmness and determination getting closer.

There was only one who she’d ever sensed who was even remotely like that: The Commander.

“He’s coming,” Patricia warned. “The Commander.”

Creed raised an eyebrow. “How do you know-“

“Trust me,” she insisted. “There isn’t anyone who even remotely feels like him.”

Creed frowned. “Which is?”

Patricia paused, trying to find a word to explain it. In the end, it wasn’t that hard. “Cold.”

Creed looked like he wanted further elaboration, but it wasn’t the time or place. “Is he coming here?”

“I think so,” she nodded as she sensed him getting closer. “I guess just act natural.”

“I don’t think we should try to hide anything,” Creed suggested, glancing towards the door. “I get the feeling it would end badly.”

He had a point. A very good one. The Commander wasn’t an idiot and would likely not come right _here_ at this point in time unless he had very good reason. And this time, she doubted it was to have a friendly sparring match again.

A minute later, the door hissed open and the Commander walked through, and after spotting them, made his way over to them. Both of them snapped into a salute as he approached, his expression unreadable.

The only thing Patricia could really sense was curiosity, but nothing more. Mostly because she was trying _not_ to read the Commander as much as possible. There were some things that she shouldn’t do, and reading his emotions, deliberate or not, was probably a _very_ bad idea.

He stopped right in front of them, appraising them silently. “At ease,” he finally said. “Hard at work, I see. Good.”

“Yes, Commander,” Creed instantly answered. “Is there something we can do for you, Commander?”

The Commander turned his gaze to Patricia. “Yes, actually. Patricia, I’d like to speak with you. Come with me.”

Though his face betrayed nothing, she could feel Creed’s primary emotion turn to concern. Which she had to echo, but she did find it endearing that he cared that much. But there was probably nothing to worry about. The Commander wasn’t someone to be feared.

Usually.

Only if you were his friend. He clearly had very little empathy for his enemies.

His hands clasped behind his back, he strode out of the Training Area, Patricia at his right. They kept walking for a few minutes, the tension becoming almost unbearable. What unnerved her even more was that the Commander felt no different to her, she was almost the exact same from the first time she’d sensed him to this very moment.

“Is there a problem, Commander?” She asked, not wanted to go on in silence anymore.

“I highly doubt it,” was the even answer. “No, I just have some questions. Some I hope you can answer.”

She swallowed. “And these questions are?”

He glanced at her, a small smile on his face. “First, I feel like I owe you an apology. I’ve yet to follow up on your…headaches. Are they still posing any problems?”

 Yeah, he knew something. The question was so pointed only an idiot would miss it. “No, Commander,” she answered shaking her head. “They haven’t affected me for awhile.”

They reached an elevator and both stepped into it. “Good. I’m curious, Patricia, how long have you known you were psionic?”

Damn it. He was not going to be happy. Best not to make it worse than it likely already was. “Soon after Vahlen examined me,” Patricia answered truthfully. “With Vahlen’s reaction and…certain other circumstances, it was the only explanation that made sense.”

The elevator opened up and they both walked out and into the hallway. “So, why didn’t you ask to be sure?” The Commander asked as they walked, his feelings impossible to determine from his tone.

“Honestly?” Patricia shrugged. “I figured you would have told me if I was psionic. Aside from that, I didn’t want to interrupt you further if I was wrong.”

“Hmm…” the Commander pursed his lips. “I’d hardly qualify you exhibiting psionic abilities as an ‘interruption.’ I believe it might actually be essential to our own efforts.”

Patricia had to agree with that. _Stupid idiot_ , she cursed herself. “That being said, I believe I do owe you an explanation for not informing you of our own results,” the Commander continued. “Vahlen deduced that you were psionic, and it was my own mistake to refrain from informing you. The truth was neither of us believed you would develop any abilities without training, or believe it would get much worse for you than it already was,” his lips twitched. “That, and there were some other projects I felt should take priority.”

They finally arrived at his office and as the door hissed open, they walked through. “Though I did not account for you deducing this, let alone training yourself to use it.”

The door closed behind them and he turned to finally face her. “So, I’d like you to explain _what_ exactly you’ve been doing, what you _can_ do and _how_ you’ve been doing it.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Commander,” she said, then proceeded to tell of her initial plan to train with Creed to master her powers, quietly, until she mastered them, then tell the Commander and let him sort it out.

“It’s gotten to the point that Creed and I were debating telling you now,” she finished. “Someone was going to notice eventually, and judging from this conversation, someone did.”

“Fascinating,” he muttered. “So, you can read people’s emotions, yet you haven’t learned enough to read minds.”

“Not deliberately,” Patricia corrected. “I can sometimes pick out random words, phrases and images. But I’m not good at pinpointing something specific.”

“So these…demonstrations on missions,” the Commander continued, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Accidental?”

“I…” she paused, then shrugged. “I don’t know. The first time it happened, it was. I just…tapped into everyone and had them hold for the signal. I’m still not sure how I did it. But…later, yeah, I’ve been trying to utilize my abilities more.”

“Like when you told me how many soldiers were in that facility,” the Commander recalled with a small smile. “I’m surprised I forgot that. Which makes me wonder if you, intentionally or otherwise, suppressed the memory of me seeing that.”

“Ah…” Patricia wasn’t certain how to answer. “No, it wasn’t my intention…though I might have wanted you to forget you heard that and accidentally…made it happen.”

“Hmm,” the Commander rested his chin on his hand. He was taking this _very_ well, far more reasonably than she was expecting. “And Newfoundland?”

“I tried out the timing trick on Soran,” Patricia admitted. “And was sensing each building for life. It’s also how I knew to shoot that chryssalid embryo.”

“That timing trick,” the Commander redirected. “How do you do it?”

She hesitated, not quite sure she could explain it. “I sort of try to…” she waved her hands absentmindedly. “ _Connect_ with them, so to speak. Focus on something simple, like a countdown. I plant a cue, or suggestion, like _attack_ or _open_ and they do it all at once.”

“Yet you can’t read their minds,” the Commander noted curiously. “Even though you can influence them to this degree.”

“Newfoundland was easier for several reasons,” Patricia explained. “First being that there was almost no one there. The only people I could feel were my squadmates, which made it significantly easier. It also helped that Soran has a more distinct signature than most.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow at that. “Really. Explain?”

She shrugged. “Oddly enough, the best word I can use to describe is _empty_. Though that’s not exactly accurate, he still feels things, he’s just not emotional about anything. _Neutral_ would likely be a better word.”

“Interesting, but irrelevant,” the Commander commented. “Well, your little Newfoundland demonstration certainly made an impact on Soran, as he was the one to bring this to my attention. Though I had noticed something was off about you on the mission, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

There was silence between both of them. “So what now?” She asked.

“You’re going to get sent down to Vahlen and let her run whatever tests she deems appropriate,” the Commander stated. “Afterwards, you are free to continue training as you were.”

She blinked. “What?”

 _Now_ she sensed amusement from him. “This is a field in which we have no experience,” the Commander said, looking at her, the corners of his lips curled up. “We have no choice but for you to continue developing your powers, and as it seems what you’re doing works so far. I see no reason to halt that.”

It made perfect sense, true, but she was getting off with practically no punishment. “You’re not going to punish me?”

“It would accomplish nothing,” the Commander dismissed. “True, I would have like you to report this far earlier. But I do attribute some of this as my fault, for not sharing our own findings. However, from this point on, I expect you to inform me of _all_ new developments, no matter how trivial,” his eyes now turned hard. “Should you fail to report something _now_ , then there _will_ be disciplinary action taken. Furthermore, should Vahlen need you for any additional tests, you will comply. Am I understood?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, Commander.”

“That’s all I ask,” he nodded once. “Though I do wonder, how did you convince Creed to be…well, experimented upon.”

Patricia shrugged. “I asked him. I explained what my goal was and why I wanted it. He agreed.”

“Still,” the Commander mused. “You weren’t just asking for a sparring partner.”

“No,” Patricia agreed. “But he’s my friend.”

 _Friend_. That might have been the first time she actually had thought of him as such. She got along with most of the soldiers here, but there weren’t any she would have labeled as _friends_ except maybe Abby. With Creed it had just sort of…happened. She smiled at that, Paige would have been happy she’d found another friend besides her.

Though there was still one little matter to resolve. “Are you going to make this public?” She asked.

“I’ll inform all the Squad Overseers,” the Commander answered. “But aside from that, I’ll leave it to you to decide how best to let that information spread. I can’t guarantee that the Overseers will keep it to themselves, but I won’t spread it around.”

She nodded. That issue she’d have to discuss with Creed, but there was one lingering question. “You’re being awfully lenient,” she noted. “Not to mention trusting. Why?”

“You’re one of my soldiers,” he answered simply. “I trust you. You’re an adult, and capable of making responsible decisions. I suppose I believe you won’t let me down.”

Instinctively, she formed her hand into a fist and placed it over her heart in his salute. It seemed appropriate now. No Commander had ever said anything like that, they certainly appreciated her, of course. But none of them had treated her as a capable person outside her field. Yet the Commander did just on the basis of she was one of his soldiers, an almost unheard of respect for someone of her rank.

“Thank you, Commander,” she said, quite possibly the sincerest she’d ever been in her life. “I won’t let you down.”

The Commander snapped into his own salute. “I know you won’t, Patricia,” he stated with absolute certainty. “Vahlen will inform you when she wants to run the tests. Until then, dismissed.”

Almost numb with shock at what had just transpired, Patricia left his office. She had some fairly important decisions to make soon.

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

“So, might I ask a personal question?” Soran asked Shun as they walked through the food line. It was clearly an American who’d chosen tonight’s meal, since nearly every dish was some kind of pizza. He hadn’t understood the fascination with this food at first, but after having it a few times, he had to admit it was _really_ good.

He wondered why it wasn’t more popular in Japan. A shame. Shun didn’t seem quite as impressed, simply picking up a piece of cheese pizza and walking to a nearby table. “If you want,” she answered. “Let’s find a table.” The Mess Hall was actually rather full tonight, soldiers gathered in groups of four or five chatting together. Once Soran got his food, he joined her at a table and sat down opposite her.

She took a sip of water and appraised him. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“If your primary job _wasn’t_ traditional intelligence work, then what was it?” He asked, wondering if she would actually give an answer.

She raised an eyebrow. “My, curious, aren’t you? Think you can trick me into revealing state secrets?”

Soran just looked at her, wondering if that was meant to get some kind of reaction. “No. It wasn’t my intention. I’m just curious as you noted.”

“Hmm,” she started eating, speaking in between bites. “Well, I suppose I can tell you some things. I primarily participated in stings, cracking down on criminals and terrorists.”

A particularly interesting word choice. “I was led to believe terrorism is dead.”

She scowled. “What do you call IEDs placed in buildings or shopping centers? _Criminal activity_? No, _Islamic_ terrorism is dead, but small radical groups still exist. Rebels against the governments. They don’t have the numbers, support or funding to pose a threat, so they take it out on the civilians,” she waved her hand. “But their damage is limited and it’s the last gasp of a dying movement. The Chinese government has grown tired of these groups and allocated enough resources to finally wipe them out once and for all.”

A rather bold move, Soran noted, and likely one that wouldn’t work. “More will just appear, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Shun shrugged. “But it’ll take them years to reform, if they even do so at all.”

“So is that what you primary focus on,” Soran continued. “Putting down anti-government rebels?”

“No, it’s not,” Shun amended. “I’ve been called on some raids, but I’ve primarily been focused on the Triad. If there is an immediate threat to the Chinese government, it is the Triad.”

Interesting. “You consider the Triad to be a greater threat to China than the United States or Russia?”

Shun smirked. “Are you honestly surprised? No civilized country poses an…immediate threat. There are certain expectations, and I doubt the United States would hurt us through drug trafficking and child smuggling.”

Soran winced. “Point taken, so is there progress being made?”

“Major progress, actually,” Shun answered, a small smile growing on her face. “For the first time in years, the Triad is losing a _lot_ of ground. We learned that there was some kind of dispute several months back that led to one of the head of the Triad leaving. He apparently took quite a few valuables, judging from how bad the Triad seems to want him dead.”

Soran frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Because the Triad seems to believe he went to us,” Shun answered. “Around the same time he left, we received a massive info dump containing an unprecedented amount of information on the Triad. Names, operations, locations. Enough to cripple the Triad for years. We immediately moved and I spent a few months helping cleanse them from China. He must have had a contingency in place in case they turned on him.”

She raised a glass. “If I ever see Mr. Zhang, I’ll have to thank him for his contribution. Right before I arrest him, of course.”

Soran blinked. He was _fairly_ sure he’d heard that name before. If he was right and it _was_ the same Zhang…well, she was going to be in for an unpleasant surprise. “Why arrest him?” Soran asked, cocking his head. “He seems to have performed a great service.”

“And that excuses the crimes of his past?” Shun retorted, shaking her head. “Regardless of what he did, it certainly wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. Self-preservation and revenge don’t equal forgiveness for his crimes.

Hmm. Should he break the potentially bad news to her _now_ , or wait to confirm? He was fairly certain he was right, but if _not_ …at best he _might_ get a dishonorable discharge, especially if Shun decided to make a scene out of it. The Commander would know, and at the very least needed to know about a potential issue within the ranks.

Although, he was also curious as to how the Commander would handle that. He was a very different Commander than what Soran was used too, he’d actually seemed to listen when he’d brought forth his suspicions about Patricia and had been _very_ surprised when he’d confirmed it.

A development like that would have been kept under heavy wraps in practically _any_ military, but the Commander had just told him. Why? He doubted it was a slip of the tongue, but hadn’t wanted to press him any further. Perhaps he could when he spoke to him about this…issue.

“Mind if I ask _you_ a question?” Shun asked, crossing her arms and resting them on the table.

He shrugged. “Of course.”

“What did _you_ do?” Shun asked curiously. “They don’t let just anyone into the 1 st Airborne Brigade.”

“Are _you_ asking me to reveal state secrets?” Soran asked, letting some amusement creep into his voice. “I feel that nearly every interesting mission I’ve been on would be considered classified.”

“Then be general,” Shun amended. “I deserve something.”

It was only fair. “Fine,” he let out. “I was…well, a _scout_ is such a generic term, but it fits rather well. I kept track on enemies, reported on their positions for hours, enduring some rather harsh conditions and were able to track them if they ever left.”

“Sounds fun,” Shun commented.

“Oh it was,” Soran recalled. “So much fun. On occasion, I’d even do some light infiltration. Disguise myself and report from inside. Though I was really only doing it a few hours before the eventual sting. Still, it’s interesting to play a different person from time to time.”

“ _Interesting_ is a term for it, I suppose,” Shun muttered. “I assure you were pretty good if they never caught onto you?”

Soran chuckled. “I was competent enough. I don’t exactly consider the thugs and criminals I was sent after to be the most intelligent of humans. I highly doubt my…acting would hold up if I was sent to infiltrate an actual military or intelligence group. Even the Triad would likely discover me rather quickly. Nah, scouting is what I’m best at. I just have some additional talent my superiors like to utilize if they deem it safe.”

“I would not have guessed that about you,” Shun shook her head. “Our roles should really be different. I’ve never been given a mission to infiltrate, but have likely seen more combat than you. Is it difficult readjusting to…you?”

“Not really,” Soran dismissed. “Imitation is easy, it’s just a matter of making the right sounds and gestures. Sound and look sincere enough and people will believe you. I’ve never been a very…emotional person, so I taught myself to imitate those around me,” Soran took a sip of water. “I suppose that’s a reason I had a small talent for infiltration. It’s something of a natural extension of what I’ve been doing most of my life.”

“Are you doing it now?” Shun asked.

He gave her a smile, a genuine one. “I see no reason too. I’m not a robot, Shun. But it takes a lot to get a reaction out of me.”

“Maybe the Commander could use your talents in infiltrating the aliens,” Shun suggested wryly. “See how well you fit in with a muton.”

Soran actually laughed at that. “Yes,” he replied, shaking his head. “Though I’d probably have better luck with a sectoid. I’m not _that_ muscular.”

“No, wait,” Shun rested her chin on her fist. “Ah! You could go in as one of the thin men! All you’d have to do is get some of those glasses, change your hair color, your skin color, almost your entire face…hmm. Actually no, that might not work.”

Soran chuckled. “For some reason, I’d think those thin men would notice if I started walking among them. They might have some kind of special smell they use to detect their kind. Not to mention I _don’t_ speak their language.”

“Alright, perhaps you’re better off as a soldier,” Shun conceded, chuckling. “Just an idea.”

“An interesting one-“ Soran began, but was cut off when his wristband suddenly buzzed. A mission, time to get ready. He gave Shun an apologetic look. “Guess I’ll have to put my abilities to work.”

Shun nodded. “Good luck.”

Soran stood and gave her a nod and smile. “Appreciated. I’ll speak to you later.”

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Soran finished a quick entry, tapping on his tablet while putting his pistol in his holster. Samuel walked over, rifle in hand. “You ready?” He asked, his helmet distorting his voice.

Soran finished up and sat the tablet down and put his own helmet on. “Yes,” he answered as his HUD initialized. He grabbed his rifle and stood. “Let’s go.”

They both walked out of the Barracks, maintaining a brisk pace as they made their way to the Hangar. “What was that?” Samuel asked while they walked.

“Just personal notes,” Soran shrugged. “Just stuff I find interesting and note throughout the day. I usually try to add something before going on missions, just in case I don’t make it back.”

“I suppose you would have it sent to someone if that happened?” Samuel wondered, glancing over at him.

Soran frowned. “No. But I figure someone might find it interesting if they manage to get into it.”

“Hmm,” Samuel looked ahead. “You don’t have any family you’d want to inform?”

“None I’m close to,” Soran admitted. “I just had too many issues with them. Better for us to part ways.”

“Ah,” Samuel commented. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Soran answered nonchalantly. “I’m perfectly fine with my life as is.”

“Well, let’s hope this mission keeps up that streak,” Samuel said as they turned a corner. “I’ll try not to get you all killed.”

Soran gave a grin under his helmet. “I’m not worried. You’ll lead us well.”

“The promotion was a bit sudden,” Samuel noted with a shrug. “But I’m told Creed’s promotion to Squad Overseer was the same. I guess the Commander trusts me enough to lead a mission.”

“Has the Commander told you what to expect here?” Soran asked.

“A large UFO,” Samuel revealed. “He’s sending Myra down as well so he clearly thinks we’ll need the extra firepower.”

Soran blinked. Hmm, he hadn’t expected that. “I thought it was just going to be Marten, Blake, Friendly and Sarah?”

“It was,” Samuel nodded. “But I suggested using Myra, since the last time one of these kind landed, it…didn’t go well. At least from what Marten described.”

Well, good foresight for Samuel. The aliens were definitely in for a surprise. “Blake is the medic, right?”

“Yep,” Samuel confirmed. “A replacement for the previous combat medic. He’s good, I’ve heard.”

Ah, right. Soran remembered the former combat medic had been one Abigail Gertrude. He’d had yet to meet her since her transfer to XCOM Intelligence, but he’d seen her after the EXALT raid. Based on her profile, he wouldn’t have guessed her to be the intelligence type. But appearances could be deceiving, of course.

The doors to the Hangar slid open and Soran saw the rest of the squad waiting for their approach. All of them snapped into a salute as Samuel approached, Soran included once they stopped walking.

“Our pilot arrived?” Samuel asked Marten.

“Not yet, Overseer,” Marten answered, shaking his head. “But he’s coming.”

Soran looked over to see Myra in her MEC suit being hooked into the MEC skyranger transport. At least she’d be ready to go once their pilot arrived. “You know who it is?” Soran asked.

“Fallen Sky,” Friendly answered. “I think.” He looked at Samuel for confirmation.

“Correct,” Samuel confirmed. “The Commander’s informed me it’s a large UFO.”

“Damn it,” Marten muttered. “Let’s hope this one goes better.”

Sarah raised her hand, pointing her thumb at Myra behind her. “We’ve got a massive robotic soldier. I think this will go a _bit_ better.”

“Let’s not celebrate yet,” Soran cautioned. “The aliens won’t just give up because of our MEC.”

“Then I’ll settle for their burned corpses,” Sarah shrugged. “Ah, there’s our pilot.”

Soran turned and saw Tristin, or “Fallen Sky” walking toward them, aviation helmet in hand. His expression was one of complete seriousness and gave a quick salute as he approached Samuel. “Your squad ready?” He asked.

Samuel motioned to the skyranger. “After you,”

“Load up!” Tristin yelled as he jogged to the skyranger.

“Yes,” Samuel added, taking the lead, his rifle at the ready. “We’ve got a UFO to raid!”

***

_Skyranger, En route to UFO landing site_

Soran flexed his right hand as the skyranger sped through the skies. Despite his warning, he got the impression that the soldiers around him were going into this mission a tad overconfident. While having a massive robotic soldier would no doubt increase their odds, it didn’t negate the alien’s lethality at all.

Well, they had a medic with them in case things went bad. Blake sat across from him, seeming completely at ease with his hands resting on his legs. The med-kit was strapped to his belt, with several additional charges beside it. Good to see him prepared, though Soran wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him deployed on a mission before.

“You wonder why they’ve set down?” Sarah asked, looking over at him. “Seems like a massive risk, especially since we have satellite coverage over the US.”

“Maybe they don’t know that?” Friendly suggested.

Soran blinked under his helmet and sent an incredulous glance over his way. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“Perhaps,” Friendly shrugged. “The only other possibility is that this is a trap.”

“Which is why we should be prepared for ambushes,” Samuel stated, shifting his feet. “But this would be a rather poorly done ambush. It’s an amazing lack of subtlety.”

“These are aliens who think all they have to do to pass for a human is put some glasses and a hat on them,” Blake pointed out and they all chuckled. “I’m not sure how subtle they really are.”

 _“More than you think, Private Harkin,”_ the voice of the Commander interrupted. _“Underestimate them at your own peril. Now, Laker Team, you’re heading towards Idaho. As you’ve heard, the aliens have sent down a large UFO for unspecified reasons. Based on previous instances, we’re assuming they’re conducting some sort of research, in which case it’s imperative that we put an end to them.”_

“What’s the area look like?” Samuel asked.

 _“The UFO has landed in a forest,”_ the Commander answered. _“Fallen Sky will drop you off just outside the outskirts. Sneaking up to them will likely be difficult with Myra accompanying you.”_

“We can get into position beforehand and let Myra know when to strike,” Sarah suggested. “It might work to our advantage.”

“We also run the risk of drawing to much fire on her,” Soran pointed out. “Remember the aliens don’t use bullets.”

“I’ll make the decision on the ground,” Samuel stated. “I want to see the area first. Do you have an image of the area?”

 _“Affirmative, Overseer,”_ Central answered. _“Note that this isn’t real-time. The craft is generating a signal that’s disrupting our images of the area. But this was captured just after it landed.”_

An image appeared in the upper right of Soran’s HUD. It showed the UFO in the middle of dozens of flattened and splintered trees. He would have thought they would have developed a more… _refined_ method of landing in tight spaces. He supposed that they had more things to worry about than wood that wouldn’t even scratch the metal.

“Requesting a map of the full area,” Samuel requested. “It’ll be useful for planning our attack.”

 _“Sending now,”_ Central confirmed.

 _“Fallen Sky to Laker Team, strap in,”_ Fallen Sky interrupted, his voice tense. _“I’ve got bogeys approaching.”_

All of them wasted no time and strapped in, which most of them were in the habit of not doing since nothing usually happened on the flight over. “Fallen Sky, what’s going on?” Samuel demanded.

 _“We’re a few miles from the landing zone,”_ he answered. _“It appears the aliens have set up air sentries?”_

 _“What kind?”_ The Commander demanded.

The skyranger suddenly jerked and made a hard right. Soran could hear something hissing by outside. _“Cyberdisks!”_ Fallen Sky swore. _“They’re using cyberdisks!”_

“Damn it,” Samuel muttered. “Will that be a problem?”

 _“Give me a second, and hold on!”_ Was his tense response. Soran gripped his restraints, and just in time and the skyranger suddenly pulled up and twisted around. He was thoroughly disoriented now. The hisses nearby must be the skyranger’s return fire.

 _“Woo!”_ Fallen Sky shouted. _“Got it!”_

“Can we land?” Samuel demanded.

 _“Not really safe until we clear out the remaining two cyberdisks,”_ Fallen Sky answered. _“Gray Sky, what’s your status?”_

 _“Holding back for now,”_ the voice of the MEC transport pilot answered. _“I don’t exactly have the maneuverability you do.”_

 _“Drop me off,”_ the voice of Myra broke in, as emotionless as he remembered. _“I’ll lock down the area.”_

“Do it,” Samuel ordered. “They know we’re here now and might converge on our position. We need to land as soon as possible.”

The skyranger shook as cyberdisk rounds hit around the aircraft as is jerked side to side. _“Deploying now,”_ Myra informed them as Soran heard the skyranger’s weapons fire again.

 _“You got the last one?”_ Fallen Sky asked as he pulled the skyranger into a sharp turn.

 _“Affirmative,”_ came Myra’s robotic response. _“Come in for a landing.”_

_“Moving in, Laker Team, prepare to deploy!”_

The lights in the skyranger flashed to the familiar solid red. “Prepare to deploy!” Samuel shouted as he unbuckled his restraints and stood up, grabbing a handle above his head. The rest of them followed suit, the floor under them shaking from the fire.

With an unhealthy-sounding crash, the skyranger slammed into the ground, shaking them and almost causing Sarah and Marten to lose their balance. But then everything righted and the ramp opened and landed on the green grass, blowing gently in the wind.

The smell of melting metal and gas filled the air, along with the sound of a massive autolaser being fired. “Deploy!” Samuel shouted and they charged out into the Idaho fields, Soran ready for the upcoming alien attack.

***

_United States, Idaho_

The skyranger roared behind him as Soran charged out into the field. The sounds of cyberdisk cannons drew his attention upwards, where the machine was firing at the fleeing skyranger. A few seconds later, dozens of red pulses lit up the area around the cyberdisk, and Soran looked back to see Myra firing upwards.

Samuel pointed up at the lone machine. “Take it out!”

All of them raised their weapons and began firing. The cyberdisk attempted to retract into **its** disk shell, but it couldn’t do it fast enough to avoid the burning beams that sliced, burned and cauterized the delicate mechanisms within it. The result was that the transformation was incomplete, and the cyberdisk slowly lost altitude, weeping yellow liquid from gaps in it’s shell.

 _“Leave it to me,”_ Myra stated as she stormed past to them where the cyberdisk was falling. It hit the ground with a crash and she stopped around five feet before it, then unloaded a barrage of laser fire which caused the cyberdisk to explode in a small fireball a few seconds later. She turned back to them. _“Threat neutralized.”_

“Good work,” Samuel nodded, turning towards the forest where the UFO was within. “Fallen Sky, Gray Sky, status?”

 _“We’re in Hawkeye protocol now,”_ Fallen Sky answered. _“The skies are clear for now. Proceed.”_

“No point sneaking in now,” Friendly muttered as he walked up by Samuel. “They know we’re here.”

“Agreed,” Samuel nodded. “We’re in for a tough fight.” He motioned towards the dense forest. “Advance! Be ready to fire!”

“Yes, Overseer!” they shouted and began moving inward. The forest was dense, but flat, at least to Soran. The tree trunks would provide moderate cover, but he didn’t exactly feel safe here. Leaves cracked under their boots as they walked, the silence only permeated by the faint hum of the UFO that only grew louder the closer they got.

Soran frowned as he thought he glimpsed something ahead. Squinting, his eyes widened a few seconds later. “Take cover!” He shouted as a hail of green plasma fire tore through the forest directly at them. Luckily the denseness worked to their advantage and the worst that happened was the scorched trees. Myra was similarly unaffected, the plasma missing her large chassis.

Soran peeked around his tree trunk as more plasma fire slammed into nearby tree trunks and whizzed past his helmet. He took a few precious seconds to figure out what they were facing. _Mutons_. A _lot_ of mutons. There were no less than eight, also taking cover behind tree trunks and laying down a steady stream of suppressive fire.

Now the green light show was joined by sizzling red lasers as the squad began firing back. A muton screamed as one of Samuel’s beams tore into it’s face and it collapsed to the ground. Sarah and Marten both targeted one on the far left, targeting it’s body that was sticking out of cover far too small for it’s hulking frame.

Soran heard Myra grunt and quickly glanced back to see her take a step back, the area by her shoulder sizzling, green plasma residue indicating where she’d been hit. She responded by blasting the muton who’d shot her, and not only eviscerated the muton, but also shattered the tree.

With a snap and groan, the tree began falling to the right, forcing one to the mutons to fall back else he’d get crushed. Soran raised his rifle and took aim. Once the shot was lined up, he fired. The red beam sliced into the leg and the muton fell to the ground with a howl. Not a killing shot, but it set up Blake to send a laser beam directly into it’s head.

“More coming!” Marten warned as he began firing in short bursts. Soran looked beyond the remaining muton to see he was right. Six more were charging their position, providing much needed reinforcements to the aliens.

“Myra, burn them out!” Samuel ordered. “Lay down suppressive fire. I don’t want a single return shot!”

The quickly disintegrating distance between XCOM and the aliens suddenly became a lethal laser trap, as beams of red crisscrossed and moved, killing several unsuspecting mutons in the process. Tiny fires were starting as a result of their weapons, adding to the lethality of their tactics.

But it worked, the mutons knew that XCOM couldn’t keep this up forever and had opted, wisely, to wait. Which would have been an excellent strategy, had Myra not been with them. Her MEC suit allowed her to charge over within seconds, setting her up on their right flank.

Soran watched in fascination as she slammed the butt of her rifle into the ground, which had a spike attached to it for supposedly just such an occasion. Which confused him until he realized that the attachments on her arms were shifting and moving. _“Flushing them out,”_ she stated as she raised her arms.

Cones of flame burst from them, washing over the mutons position setting everything in their path alight. The effect was vicious and immediate as the mutons howled in pain and began running back, their heavy green armor heated to oven temperatures, cooking them inside it.

Myra kept advancing her wrists spewing more flame as the immediate area around her was scorched and beginning to turn into an inferno. The fleeing, disoriented mutons were easy targets for the squad, as they were mowed down with surgical precision. Myra stopped in front of a muton writing on the ground, lowered her wrist to it’s face and blasted a cone of flame on it.

No sound remained except for the crackling of flames as the fire spread through to nearby trees. However, the flames weren’t nearly large enough to worry about developing into a forest fire, they’d burn out soon. Myra stomped back over to her weapon and picked it up.

Samuel motioned them forward, closer to the burning area. A wall of flame was still between them and the UFO but they could just-

A burst of…something suddenly blew the wall of flame away and the largest outsider Soran had ever seen stepped through, flanked by two smaller ones, several drones flying overhead and even more mutons behind it. It was a deeper orange than the smaller outsiders, but seemed identical in almost every other way.

Instead of the regular plasma carbine the outsiders typically wielded, this one had a rifle that was nearly as tall as he was. _This_ outsider was almost as tall as Myra, who towered over them all.

“Do they ever stop?” Sarah muttered as she began lining up a shot.

“Kill them!” Samuel ordered and they all began firing at the new arrivals. The outside immediately leapt into cover, using their limited immunity to the lasers to begin getting into flanking positions.

“Myra, Sarah, Blake! Take out the left one now!” Samuel ordered as plasma began flying at them again. “Soran, Marten! Suppress the right one! Me and Friendly will take the big one!”

“Copy!” Soran yelled and began firing short bursts at the outsider that was taking an uncomfortable angle near him.

“Grenade out!” Marten yelled as he tossed it towards the crouched outsider. It exploded and forced the outsider briefly into the open. Soran immediately fired a sustained beam into it, temporarily freezing it in place. Marten joined in. “We’ve got this one!” Marten shouted. “Kill it now!”

Another beam, which he assumed was from either Samuel or Friendly, joined their attack and a few seconds later the energy overload proved too much and it shattered into a thousand pieces. Soran quickly reloaded, glancing frantically forward as the new wave of mutons began taking entrenched positions.

The outsider Myra was trying to pin down was proving more adept than theirs. It kept moving, shooting at the much less nimble MEC, scoring shots that while not very damaging, were adding up. The outsider leader was not even firing yet, just staring and seeming to appraise the situation.

The inaction was finally coming to an end, as four laser weapons fired on it simultaneously. It simply absorbed the lasers, then raised it’s hand and orange energy began converging on it’s palm. A second later, a sizzling orange laser shot right at them, forcing them to cease firing.

Soran pursed his lips. That was going to pose a problem for them. Outsiders could absorb and reflect energy, so it made sense that a larger one was going to be able to do it even better. The bad news was that it was essentially invincible unless _all_ of them focus fired it down.

The two drones circling the massive outsider suddenly fire a small sustained laser, but not at any of the soldiers, but directly into the outsider. Well, well, it seemed they’d taken some inspiration from XCOM. “Look at the drones!” He shouted as the outsider raised its palm again to shoot another laser.

This time it aimed at a much larger target: Myra. The beam slammed into her and began cutting into the armor. She began firing at the outsider, but her weapon only added made it more powerful. The smaller outsider that had been harassing her leapt toward her, still firing.

That gave Sarah and Blake the opportunity to hit the elusive alien. Blake managed to freeze the outsider with his sizzling red beam, and Sarah immediately joined hers. Myra noticed and one blast later the outsider became overloaded and exploded.

Soran and Samuel aimed at the drones above and began firing. One exploded thanks to one of Samuel’s lasers hitting it, while the other was taken out by Friendly who’d taken a forward position to get a better shot.

The battle was slowly turning in their favor as they could now focus on the massive outsider and remaining mutons. Myra unleashed another torrent of flame at a covering pair of mutons, who stood no chance. But Soran noticed that she was in much worse shape than earlier, her armor was scorched, torn and pieces falling off. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

Now the massive outsider began firing its massive weapon, streams of plasma bursting out at previously impossible speeds. All the soldiers ducked back into cover as the outsider suppressed the area. Soran sucked in his breath. A weapon like that would cut through Myra if it was sustained for even a few seconds.

Samuel had the same idea. “Return fire!” He yelled and the area was filled with red bursts and beams as they continued ravaging the area. Soran perked up as a familiar sound reached his ears. Chittering.

“Sectoids,” he hissed as he reloaded his rifle.

His assumption was proven true when Blake pointed behind the outsider. “Sectoids!”

Soran took a closer look at the approaching alien. Both of them had the augmented black arms. Leaders. Not good. Purple energy converged around their heads as they gathered psionic energy.

Plasma fire from the mutons and outsider raining around him, Soran still tried taking aim. “Disrupt them, now!” He shouted as they thrust their heads forward. One purple strand went towards Friendly, the other towards Samuel.

Samuel stumbled back, then aimed his rifle at the approaching sectoid. “Get out of my head, freak!” Then fired a beam that sliced it’s augmented arm off, forcing it back with chitters of pain.

“Ahh,” Friendly groaned as he sank to a knee, clutching his head. “I’m…not feeling so good.”

The other sectoid was dashing into cover, and the outsider took the opportunity and stormed over to Friendly’s position. Samuel, Blake and Marten all fired at it, but it simply just absorbed the energy, gathering it into its palm which began glowing a bright orange. Friendly tried firing at it, but the sectoid had disoriented him so much that his laser went wild.

With an almost contemptuous look, the outsider picked him up by his neck and held him in the air, dangling him a few feet off the ground. The hand clutching Friendly’s neck glowed with energy, and he started screaming as the outsider used that energy to burn through Friendly’s neck.

The decapitated body fell to the ground, the head landing close by it. It’s target dead, the outsider turned to the rest of them.

Soran looked around at the rest of the squad. All of them were under fire from the mutons, who were slowly advancing as XCOM was stalled by the outsider. Myra was in bad shape, some sparks flying from exposed parts in her chassis every few seconds. The outsider was no less damaged than before and the sectoids were still out there, and they’d use their psionics at the earliest opportunity.

“We have to fall back!” He shouted at Samuel. “There’s too many!”

Samuel locked his helmet on him, and Soran could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. They _might_ be able to win this. _Might_. And chances were high that they’d lose at least another soldiers, not to mention they’d have to deal with whatever was still remaining at the UFO.

The aliens had sent a small army with this one, and as well-equipped and trained as XCOM was, even they couldn’t take down a force this large without serious casualties. The aliens weren’t going to go anywhere, and Soran didn’t see a reason they should risk losing everything for a dubious victory. They had to know when to retreat.

Samuel evidently came to the same conclusion. He gave Soran a nod. “Blake pop smoke and fall back! Use whatever you have!”

Blake tossed several canisters of the pink smoke around them and everyone else began tossing grenades at the mutons, outsider and sectoids. Soran tossed a flash-bang at the place he’d seen the sectoids, figuring it’d be better there.

“Fallen Sky we need an evac!” Samuel called as they dashed back towards the field, occasionally stopped and turning back to offer some return fire. Myra was now weeping what looked to be oil from several gaps, yet still continued firing back at them, her wide suppressive fire slowing their advance.

 _“Heading there now,”_ came the voice of Fallen Sky. _“Gray Sky is right behind me.”_

“Ah!” Sarah gasped and spun to the ground, clutching her arm. Blake knelt beside her and hauled her up. Soran winced as he saw where the plasma had hit, already eating through her armor and skin.

“Hold still!” Blake encouraged as he sprayed with the Med-kit on her wound, sloppily, but it had to work as they kept running.

“Enact the Zeus Contingency!” Samuel ordered as the skyrangers roared overhead and moved to set down.

 _“Copy that,”_ the Commander acknowledged as the ramps lowered. Soran knelt by the ramp, firing into the forest as Blake and Sarah stumbled on first, then Marten, and finally Samuel.

Myra had attached herself into the MEC skyranger and just in time, as the aliens were storming out of the forest and plasma began blazing in their general direction. Soran leapt inside the skyranger which immediately rose as the ramp was closing. The adrenaline beginning to fade, Soran pulled off his helmet and sank into the closest seat he could.

That could have gone better. But at least they’d managed to mitigate their losses.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Disintegrating Shard

_Personnel:_

Laker 1 _(Squad Overseer_ ): Specialist Samuel Roche

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

Laker 2: Specialist Marten El-Amin

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

Laker 3: Specialist Sarah Liber

            **Status:** Wounded (Estimated Time: Three Days)

 **Kills:** 4

Laker 4: Specialist Glenn Friendlein

            **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 4

Laker 5: Specialist Soran Kakusa

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Laker 6: Specialist Blake Harkin

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Laker 7: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

            **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 14

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Tristin Ward – Call sign: “Fallen Sky”

Pilot 2: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

_Artifacts Recovered:_

None. Tactical Retreat

 

 

 


	20. Intelligence Operation: Israel

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“I’m sorry about Friendly,” the Commander told Van Doorn as the skyranger flew back.

Van Doorn gave a deep sigh, and didn’t bother hiding the sadness in his voice. “Appreciated, Commander. He served well and I’ll ensure he’s remembered. But he wasn’t the first friend I’ve lost, and likely won’t be the last.”

“Unfortunately true,” the Commander agreed sadly, now turning his mind to more practical matters. Van Doorn appeared to come to the same conclusion and composed himself as they got into the thing that had been on his mind since the fighting started.

“They knew we were coming,” he muttered as he turned off the screen and turned to the holotable. “That, or we stumbled onto a damn military exercise.”

“They had to have known there would be a response, especially in the United States,” Bradford noted. “Maybe they just decided to prepare?”

“They had cyberdisks in position before we even arrived,” the Commander reminded him. “They knew _when_ we’d attack, not just that we would.”

“They also seemed to have just enough soldiers to push us back, if not wipe us out entirely,” Van Doorn pointed out. “If Myra hadn’t been there, it would have been much worse.”

“Regardless, I think it’s safe to say they seemed to know far more than they should,” the Commander stated grimly, as he rested his hands on the holotable. “Which brings up a very important question: How?”

In the end, there were only a few plausible answers. Either the aliens had gotten lucky and sent just enough aliens to push them back by complete accident. Or the other, more likely possibility.

Someone had told them.

“I think it might be time for Zhang to start investigation possible breaches,” the Commander muttered. “If there is a spy, we need to find them.”

“Agreed,” Van Doorn nodded. “Though I find it hard to believe anyone _here_ could be a spy.”

“All communication coming in and leaving the Citadel is monitored and screened,” Bradford added. “It would be almost impossible to send out any sort of useful information without our knowledge.”

“It’s probably not one of the soldiers,” the Commander agreed. “But an analyst? A technician with access to the systems?” He glanced over at Bradford. “Are you certain your people are trustworthy?”

Bradford gave a brief nod. “Completely, if they were sending signals to the aliens, I’d know about it.”

“I’m not convinced that they would be sent directly to the aliens,” Van Doorn interrupted, frowning. “We might have to consider the possibility that we’ve been infiltrated by EXALT. Who as we’ve noted, have some kind of connection to the aliens.”

“Jackson is in charge of security, correct?” The Commander asked Bradford, looking over to him.

“Yes, Commander,” Bradford confirmed, his eyes uncertain. “But I can assure you-“

“I know you will,” the Commander interrupted, raising a hand to cut him off. “And while you believe so, I’m not convinced. If there is a spy, they need to be found and removed before the next mission ends with all our soldiers dead.”

Bradford sighed. “I understand, Commander.”

“We do have a problem then if we assign this to Zhang,” Van Doorn reminded them. “What about his own agents? Many times they work beyond the Citadel where it would be easy to contact either EXALT or the aliens.”

“Wouldn’t have worked in this case,” the Commander shook his head. “Too short notice, everyone who knew about this mission was in the Citadel. Though I get your point, and will speak to Zhang about it.”

Van Doorn suddenly perked up. “You spoke to Patricia, correct?”

The Commander nodded as he understood where this was going. “Yes, I did. Though I don’t think we’ll be able to utilize her abilities until she improves. From what she explained, the most she can sense is emotions, and I won’t accuse someone on that basis alone.”

“Still,” Van Doorn looked thoughtful. “It might be worth considering having her or a few veteran soldiers watch out for suspicious activity.”

The Commander straightened up, and looked down at the holotable. “I don’t want to let them in on this, not yet. We don’t need suspicion in the ranks. As much as it seems like it now, we don’t have concrete proof, which is why I want Zhang to look into this. If he finds something, then we move forward.”

“Reasonable,” Bradford conceded. “I suppose this will be kept to ourselves then?”

“For now, until Zhang completes a preliminary investigation,” the Commander answered. “I’ll let Vahlen and Shen know what’s going on as well.”

“What about Herman?” Van Doorn asked, crossing his arms.

The Commander frowned. “What about him? He doesn’t need to know if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Not at first,” Van Doorn nodded. “But should we discover a traitor, he might help make sure we don’t make the Council angry at us. Your contingency doesn’t exactly leave much ambiguity for the fate of this individual. There are some countries that might find it…disagreeable.”

The Commander eyed him. “Regardless of what country they’re from, they are now XCOM personnel, and are under the rules, regulations, and punishments of XCOM. I’m not exactly concerned with outside reaction, though I will take that into account should we find a traitor.”

“I don’t think Zhang should run this investigation completely internally,” Bradford said after a few seconds, as he took out his tablet. “If there _is_ a traitor within XCOM Intelligence, I’m not convinced he’ll see it. Aside from that, he’ll likely need to look at XCOM’s security systems and Mrs. Jackson _is_ going to notice.”

“If she has issues, send her to me,” the Commander answered, tapping his finger on the holotable. “But she’s not cleared yet. I don’t want her brought into this until we’re certain she’s clean.”

“Zhang might spook her though,” Van Doorn pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing. “She might get suspicious either way.”

“Zhang did this for a living,” the Commander reminded him, glancing over quickly as he pondered the blue map of the world. “I trust him to be subtle.”

Bradford seemed to get a message on his headset and raised a finger as he listened, both the Commander and Van Doorn looked over, waiting. Bradford sighed and nodded. “Got it, I’ll inform the Commander now.” He clicked his headset off. “Our Raven just razed the area, but the UFO was gone.”

The Commander rubbed his forehead. Wonderful, that didn’t exactly dispel any suspicions about a spy. “It was worth a shot,” he muttered.

“Look on the bright side,” Van Doorn gave him a lopsided smile. “At least we stopped whatever they were doing, not to mention took out an impressive number of their soldiers.”

“On losses alone, I would count it as a draw,” the Commander said. “But I doubt we can rely on that again. Shen said it’ll take a few days to restore the MEC suit to full functionality, so we’re also down Myra at the moment.”

“We’ll hopefully have a short break here,” Bradford said. “I’ll gather the data from around the time of our attack and send it to Zhang. Maybe he can find something in that.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “General, I want a complete list of our soldiers and their psych profiles if you have them. As much as I doubt one of them is a traitor, I might as well check.”

“I’ll do so,” Van Doorn nodded.

“Dismissed,” the Commander ordered, saluting them, and as they returned it, he walked towards the door to go see Zhang.

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

Zhang seemed to have anticipated him, as he didn’t look surprised when the Commander walked through. He set the tablet in his hand down. “Commander, excellent. There’s something we need to discuss.”

“That there is,” the Commander agreed. “Though I suspect it’s now on wildly different topics.”

Zhang clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll let you go first, then.”

“Fine,” the Commander nodded and walked over to Zhang’s miniature holotable. “Have you been updated with the latest mission?”

“Yes,” Zhang confirmed with a nod. “And I see you’ve come to the same conclusion I have.”

“A traitor,” the Commander said, Zhang nodded in response.

“Yes, there are too many signs not to at least warrant some kind of response,” he said, walking over to his table and picking up a file. “This is why you’ve come here, I assume?”

The Commander gave a humorless smile. “Nothing gets past you I see. Yes, I think we need to open an investigation. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Zhang assured him. “I handled internal… _affairs_ during my work with the Triad. They take betrayal as seriously as we do. If there is a traitor within XCOM, I will find them.”

Excellent. “Where will you start?” The Commander asked.

“Analysis and Communication is the obvious choice,” Zhang answered, his eyes hard and deep in thought. “I’ll see what I can find there, though it will take time since I assume you would prefer I was discreet.”

“I would,” the Commander agreed. “I want this kept quiet as much as possible until we have some kind of evidence.”

“I’ll keep my agents to a minimum,” Zhang promised. “I’ll have Akello take a look.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “You certain you can trust her?”

“I trust her not to make stupid mistakes,” Zhang amended slowly. “She isn’t reliable on everything, but I can assure you she’s not a traitor.”

Well, there was going to have to be someone who was a risk, and at the moment, Akello was a much lower risk than Jackson, no matter how much Bradford trusted her. He hoped that she was clean, because then she would be exceptionally helpful in pinpointing any breaches. But for now, he had to put his trust in Zhang’s judgement.

His trust actually was pretty high. He knew that Zhang would be impartial when dealing with an issue like this, he was far more reliable than Bradford here. The Commander admired Bradford’s optimism and trust, but he had issues with viewing people objectively. Like it or not, if there _was_ a traitor, Jackson was a fairly obvious target.

“I’ll take your word for it,” the Commander said. “But keep an eye on her.”

The corners of Zhang’s lips curled up. “I always do.”

“Good,” the Commander stated. “Keep me appraised of every development. Take this as well, your codebreakers might find it interesting.” He pulled out a piece of paper with alien writing on it and handed it to Zhang. “The alphabet as best as I was able to translate. It’s not a full session, which still needs to be done, but perhaps your people can write some sentences and I can verify their accuracy.”

“Appreciated,” Zhang answered as he looked at the paper. “Though once we complete the process of translation, there will need to be another decision. Who should we share this with?”

“That should be decided with everyone present,” the Commander stated, pursing his lips. “But I see no reason to share it outside our allies.”

“Yes, our allies,” Zhang muttered. “I suppose I might as well move into the topic I wanted to speak to you about.” He pressed a few buttons on the holotable and if displayed the land around Israel a few seconds later.

“Has Israel made a move?” The Commander asked, crossing his arms as he appraised the map.

“Not publically,” Zhang answered, pointing to a desolate are close to Tel Aviv. “But they’ve begun training exercises and war games. My source in the IDF has said we should see what they’re doing.”

“How helpful,” the Commander commented dryly. “Is there a reason he couldn’t just say what’s going on?”

“Not if his cover is to remain intact,” Zhang shook his head. “Israel is almost as paranoid as us about monitoring communications. Any more specific and _someone_ would have noticed.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander conceded. “But that doesn’t sound good.”

“No,” Zhang agreed, pursing his lips as he looked at the map. “At the very least this implies an expectation of war. And I’m not convinced that it’s the aliens that they’re training for.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” the Commander muttered. “The UN is about as dangerous as a kitten, but other countries won’t take a conquest so well.”

“NATO would become involved at the very least,” Zhang stated. “But I think it’s time to know for certain what’s going on.” He highlighted a part of the map. “I’ve identified one of their training areas, which I believe to be the main one. I want to send in my operatives, take as much information from their databases as possible, and leave.”

“You want my permission?” The Commander asked, looking up. “Do it. The last thing we need is another war.”

“I thought you’d agree, but I needed to be sure,” Zhang said. “This mission will not be on any records. If my operatives get caught, they will be disavowed.”

The Commander nodded gravely. “Understood. Who are you sending?”

“The only agents I have on hand,” Zhang answered. “Abby, Ruth and Akello.”

The Commander frowned. “Are you sure sending Abby on this mission is a good idea, especially given its severity and potential consequences?”

“Abby performed well in the Russian op,” Zhang answered firmly. “I have no reason to believe she’ll do worse here. Should they be caught, Ruth has standing orders to kill her, since I wouldn’t trust her to hold up under interrogation yet.”

“Reasonable,” the Commander noted slowly. “And Ruth? You certain she’ll be fine working against her country?”

“She will,” Zhang assured her. “She’s loyal to XCOM and humanity now, and will do whatever it takes to ensure victory. Besides, I think she’s just as curious as to what Israel is doing. In addition, she’s very familiar with their systems which will be invaluable to Akello.”

“You know your agents,” the Commander said. “More so than I, anyway. When will you begin?”

“Now,” Zhang said, turning to pick up his tablet on a nearby table. “All I was waiting on was your approval.”

“Well, consider it approved,” the Commander nodded and saluted. “Good luck and appraise me of the outcome as soon as possible”

Zhang returned the salute. “It will be done, Commander.”

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Abby walked down the hallway with Ruth, wondering what prompted the sudden call they’d received. Well, she would take that over what she’d been doing, namely interrogating that EXALT soldier using a very wide variety of methods. She’d been there to monitor him and make sure they didn’t go too far.

She’d felt sick initially, watching Ruth and a few more XCOM agents systematically drive the man to the brink of insanity. She’d recommended against permanent mutilation, because for one, it wasn’t the most effective form of torture, and two, she’d thought that might make the agents go easier on him.

She’d been wrong on the second part. It became quickly apparent to her that there was far worse pain than amputation.

The first tests involved figuring out his exact pain resistance, and realistically, there was only one way to really test that. After hooking up several sensors, she’d watched the man be cut, burned and exposed to corrosive agents. She’d forced herself not to intervene once the man began screaming, remembering her orders were to only intervene if he was in danger of death or insanity along with recording the data from the sensors.

It was…difficult.

They’d settled into a simple pattern. One of them, usually Ruth, would ask a simple question, like his name or where he’d been last. Something harmless, yet would establish a baseline for determining how much pain would be required. If he broke, they would move to more difficult questions and proceed from there.

He’d eventually succumbed to the first level of testing, after sulfuric acid had been applied to his joints. After that, she was ordered to clean him up, and she’d neutralized the acid before any permanent damage could be done. He was completely drained, the fight in him completely dead and she’d seen in his eyes he was terrified, knowing that worse was going to come.

She hadn’t been able to sleep that night. She hadn’t been sure if she should feel guilty or not, since she hadn’t actually done anything to hurt him, but she’d been complicit nonetheless.

The following days had been much easier, as they moved to chemical testing, using a wide variety of drugs to loosen his lucidity and cloud his mind. That day she’d taken a more active role, determining and administering the drugs to him. She wasn’t proud of herself, but at least it was more humane than cutting him open.

They’d been in the process of refining some of the drugs when Ruth had told her Zhang needed to speak with them. As good a reason as any, and she’d be glad to leave the cells for a while. She’d considered asking Ruth how she rationalized it, because Abby did think that she wasn’t a bad person. But it was sometimes hard to rationalize that when she’d watched her make pinpoint incisions on a helpless prisoner.

“You know why he wants us?” Abby asked Ruth.

She shook her head. “No, though it must be important. He wouldn’t have called us away otherwise.”

Clearly. Though _what_ was making her somewhat apprehensive. They soon arrived at Intelligence Control and strode in. To her surprise, Akello was there was well, speaking to Zhang and both turned once the door slid open.

Zhang gave a small nod, as stoic as ever. Akello burst into a wide smile. “Abby! Haven’t seen you for a few days.”

Abby hesitated, not sure how much she should say. Instead she gave a forced smile. “Been busy, good to see you too.”

Ruth gave Zhang a salute and Abby remembered that even in the relaxed atmosphere of XCOM Intelligence, Zhang was due some amount of proper respect. Abby quickly copied Ruth and placed her fist over her heart.

“At ease,” Zhang said after a couple seconds, then gestured them over. “Come here.”

Abby approached as they all gathered around the holotable. Abby stood opposite Zhang and Ruth and Akello took opposite sides. Abby looked down at the glowing blue holographic map displayed. Huh. She wasn’t as familiar with her geography as she honestly should be, but the word _Israel_ displayed on the map were pretty hard to miss.

“To bring you up to speed,” Zhang began, focusing on the capital of Israel, Tel Aviv. “XCOM has an alliance with Israel, they provide us with additional funding and personnel in exchange for some of our alien tech.”

Abby blinked. Israel. Well, that was an interesting alliance to be sure. But considering the past few years, she wondered how good an idea an alliance with them really was. Especially if they were getting alien tech out of this. “How long?” She asked.

“Close to half a year,” Zhang answered neutrally. “It’s because of this alliance that Ruth is with us today.” He nodded towards Ruth who smiled.

“So…” Akello said, crossing her arms. “What’s Israel got to do with why you called us?”

“Everything,” Zhang answered. “Israel has been working towards something over the past few months, and what that is concerns both XCOM and the current state of the world.”

“There are only a few ways Israel could cause this level of concern,” Ruth noted, frowning. “Are they seriously considering a conquest of the Middle East?”

Zhang fixed her with piercing glare. “That is what we need to determine. You were part of the Kidon, so you would know if Israel has considered a move like this before.”

Ruth thought for a few moments. “We did have preliminary objectives, should Israel ever need to occupy certain countries in the Middle East,” she said slowly. “But nothing much more than that.”

“That might have changed,” Zhang stated, moving the map over to an unmarked place. “Israel has locked down on all outside communications within the IDF, and I assume this also applies to the Mossad and their respective branches. A few days ago they’ve begun combat exercises and war games. All signs point to an Israeli conquest, and if so, XCOM needs to know about it.”

Akello shook her head in disbelief, her expression incredulous. “What could Israel possibly gain from such a move? Especially _now_?”

Ruth snorted. “Control of the Middle East, for starters. I have no doubt that the Prime Minister considers a united Middle East a net positive, and will no doubt be the angle he pushes.” She shrugged. “The issue I have with this is that Israel has neither the soldiers nor resources to maintain control.”

“Not to mention they might provoke the rest of the world,” Abby pointed out. “Remember Palestine?”

   “Palestine was completely out of control and a threat to us,” Ruth stated firmly. “Our response was completely justified, regardless of what story the UN tried to push. No, politics will not dissuade the Prime Minister.”

“But he does have to consider the individual country response,” Zhang reminded her. “China, Egypt or India might not take kindly to new Israeli neighbors.”

“Good point,” Ruth muttered.

“The point is we need to determine what their actual plans are,” Zhang redirected. “Thanks to my source in the IDF, we have an opportunity to get a closer look,” he gestured at the map. “This is the largest area Israel is using for their exercises. Your mission will be to infiltrate the area, recover any documents or files you can and leave.”

“Easy,” Ruth commented sarcastically.

“You know how they operate,” Zhang reminded her. “I’m certain you’ll do fine. Akello will devise a way to get the files, and you and Abby will go in.”

“Right…” Akello muttered. “Yes, I’m going to find a way to break into the IDF database. Yay.”

“You got into the Russian’s, no problem,” Abby encouraged.

“Yeah,” she looked unconvinced. “But there’s a difference between that and an actual military system. And Israel takes its security seriously.”

“Will that be a problem?” Zhang asked, eyeing her.

Akello shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll find a way.”

“Good,” Zhang looked back at Abby. “Both of you will meet up with my source who’s at the mission site. He’ll give you any additional information you’ll need.”

“And his name is?” Ruth asked.

“Eldad Levi,” Zhang answered. “He’s set to meet you on the outskirts, I’ll mark the exact location.”

“When are we leaving?” Ruth asked.

“Now,” Zhang answered. “We have a limited opportunity, so no time for delays.”

Abby swallowed. She didn’t think she was completely ready for this, but it seemed they had no choice. “One more thing,” Zhang added, his tone somehow growing more serious. “This mission is extremely sensitive for a number of practical and political reasons. Should you fail in your mission, you will be disavowed by XCOM. As far as you’re concerned, this mission does not exist. Understood?”

Abby took a breath. “Yes, Director,” she answered quietly. Ruth and Akello nodded as well.

“Good luck,” Zhang told them. “A skyranger is waiting to take you there.”

***

_Scotland, Cerian’s Residence_

“Fire!” Darril ordered.

Olivia and Baston fired several shots down the hill at the targets that were set up. The cardboard stood no chance as the bullets ripped through it, leaving a series of new holes within it. Cerian took a breath, steadied his own weapon, and fired a single shot towards the farthest target.

He didn’t need to send someone down to confirm, it’d been a perfect shot. Still, the two soldiers wouldn’t believe him otherwise.

“Hold!” Darril called as he jogged over once they’d finished shooting. He looked up at Cerian at the top of the hill. “Alright, let me check.” He jogged over to the targets while Cerian slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder and walked down by Olivia and Baston, both of whom were looking at him in disbelief.

“Maybe you’re as good as you say,” Baston muttered enviously. “How did you manage to hit the furthest target while being _behind_ us?”

“Lots of practice,” Cerian answered with a smile. “Think of that before challenging me to a shootout.”

“The requirements were a bulls-eye and one shot,” Olivia reminded him. “Both of which Darril has yet to confirm.”

Cerian motioned to the approaching medic. “Well, then let’s see if I met them.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Darril announced as he walked up, carrying the target. “But he somehow managed to hit it dead center.” He showed the target with a bullet hole right through the center.

Cerian sighed, appreciation for his marksmanship was appreciated, but he preferred it _not_ to be exaggerated. “Temper your praise,” he warned wearily as all of them looked at the target in amazement. “I’m a _sniper_. It’s literally my job, so it follows that I’d be a poor one if I missed shots like that.”

Olivia smirked and patted him on the shoulder a few times. “Keep telling yourself that, Deadshot, it’s pretty damn impressive to the rest of us.”

“Please don’t call me that again,” Cerian asked in mock exasperation. “I’m too old for nicknames.”

“Well, we are technically spies,” Bastion noted wryly. “Don’t they normally have code names and stuff like that.”

Cerian shook his head and began walking back to his house. “Only in movies, Baston. _This_ operation will have none of that,” he clapped his hands together once. “Alright, enough diversion. Back to work.”

There was a muttering of acknowledgement and all of them trudged back in the fading sunlight. Well, Cerian didn't imagine that they’d be staying too much longer before leaving for the next target. They’d lost track of the XCOM Intelligence team soon after sending the Russian’s on that company, but that had been expected.

He’d assumed that the files they’d recovered would provide a solid enough link for further investigation, namely, Solaris Industries. Unfortunately, it seemed that Patrick and his superiors were still considering how best to handle that particular revelation, if at all. Well, like it or not, it was the best lead they had, even if it wasn’t strictly related to XCOM.

Still, as far as Cerian was concerned, XCOM was perfectly justified in their investigation, especially if it involved EXALT, which had apparently caused issues for them before. Patrick hadn’t been _quite_ as ok with letting XCOM off the hook of this particular mission, but he’d accepted his reasoning and promised to convey it to the Council, for all the good that did.

While they’d been waiting for new orders, Cerian had his team split into two teams, one focusing on the files recovered and gaining whatever information they could from them, and another looking into the organization EXALT.

A closer inspection of the files had confirmed that Solaris Industries was involved in this, one way or another. Based on the sheer amount of product being moved through the company, Cerian was fairly certain whoever was authorizing these shipments was very high up in Solaris Industries itself, though he wasn’t yet convinced that Mr. Solaris himself was the culprit.

Still, it warranted a very thorough investigation, which he was currently anticipating would be his next assignment. While XCOM and their activities were the primary reason he was working with the Council, things had to be moved around to adapt to changing circumstances. And at the moment, XCOM was being quiet, more or less, and EXALT was still out there, likely mad they lost a shell company.

As for EXALT, they hadn’t been able to come up with much more than the conspiracy theories of old, all espoused by delusional men and woman who could be considered insane or believed in things so outlandish it invalidated everything that came out of their mouths. Cerian did like to keep an open mind…but it was hard to consider some of these people as reliable sources when they believed that JFK was assassinated by the US government, the moon landing was faked and the Earth was actually flat.

Yet throughout all the inane ramblings and detailed accounts, several patterns had emerged that were consistent with everything they had on the legendary organization.

 _Control_. For what he’d read, EXALT was a very exclusive, invitation-only type of organization. Oddly enough, that did seem to be somewhat backed by evidence, since all the people willing to go on record had clearly stated that they’d never been part of the organization, only stumbled upon it by accident.

That particular detail Cerian found fascinating. In nearly every conspiracy, the organization supposedly being “revealed” usually had at least one or two people who espoused that he or she was a member of said organization, and thus their word was more valid. Cerian wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t a massive coincidence, but it was interesting to note nonetheless.

However, if he actually accepted that this was all true, then it raised a whole host of other questions. Namely, how one of these whistleblowers _wasn’t_ actually from EXALT itself. All organizations had traitors or defectors, and if EXALT really was hundreds of years old, Cerian found it _extremely_ unlikely that there hadn’t been _one_ defection all that time.

Unless of course EXALT really wasn’t all that old, or had that many members. If EXALT was really as large as the stories claimed, there would be a _lot_ more information than what was currently available.

The second pattern was _infiltration_. All the accounts claimed EXALT had people placed in highly influential positions throughout the world, within businesses, media and governments. Through them, it was said, EXALT spread it’s influence with no one the wiser. Supposedly.

Cerian had usually thought of that highly unlikely, since it would actually imply that EXALT did _not_ have as much influence on the world as he would expect. The two World Wars, Cuban Missile Crisis, Vietnam, the War on Terror, were not what he’d expect would benefit EXALT much, if at all.

If all of those were _actually_ caused by one organization, then he figured the rest of the world pretty much screwed anyway. Well, he considered that highly unlikely. Now, just based on the facts, it _did_ appear that EXALT _was_ responsible for infiltrating at least some major companies. Cerian doubted it was extensive as the stories went, but he was forced to acknowledge that it was a likely possibility, if not outright confirmation.

All of this tied back to one major theme: _Secrecy_. The whistleblowers and conspiracy theorists peddling the EXALT legend were all very…generalized. There was a very interesting lack of detail in all the accounts. There weren’t any specifics. They warned that EXALT was controlling governments, yet never specified which ones. They claimed prominent figures were actually sleeper agents, yet couldn’t reliably point to one. They proclaimed that every major political event and war was the result of their machinations and somehow couldn’t even give one specific, irrefutable piece of evidence.

If there was one thing they all agreed on, it was that _no one_ knew exactly what EXALT was doing or how they operated. Again, this made Cerian suspicious about what the organization _actually_ was. If couldn’t be as big as claimed and still retain this seemingly impenetrable veil of secrecy, lies and deception.

So, from the limited records, confessions and evidence he’d been able to gather, there were only three possible explanations. Well, four if he was being honest.

One: EXALT existed, the legends were true and they exuded a massive amount of influence over the world. In which case, the rest of them were pretty much dead.

Two: EXALT existed, but it wasn’t nearly as old and influential as the stories went. They were a threat, yes, but not one powerful enough to control governments and start wars.

Three: EXALT did not exist, and the group they were after was simply using the name for reasons Cerian didn’t know.

Four: EXALT didn’t exist and all of them were chasing a completely dead end, or more accurately, XCOM was being played since they were the ones who seemed to be under the impression this was who they were dealing with.

Now…after extensive research, Cerian _did_ feel like there very likely was an organization called EXALT. In that case, the second explanation would be the one that made the most sense, since the chances of an organization that large and influential still being nothing but a legend would be nearly impossible.

Still, there was one thing he wasn’t sure of: The ultimate goal. The records were no help there, he’d seen their motives range from world domination to simple finances. Some said they had benevolent plans, and others declared they were planning a police state where they utterly controlled all individuals.

So if he accepted the second explanation, he could likely rule out any grandiose plans such as world dominations and the like. Which left….what? Money? Limited government influence? Personal power? The obvious answer was money, but that felt…wrong to him. He couldn’t explain why, but money seemed such a… _trivial_ motivation for an organization with such a storied history.

But perhaps it was the simplest answer that made the most sense. Unfortunately he wouldn’t know until he actually investigated further.

He opened the door to his house and stepped onto the wood floors. Mary was sitting casually on the couch in the living room directly to his left, typing and staring at her laptop screen. Propping his rifle in the corner by the door, he strode over to her. “Anything new?” He asked, standing before her.

She glanced up at him. “Oh, hey boss. You win your little…” she waved her hand in a circular motion. “Shooting contest?”

“Easily,” he confirmed. “So, anything?”

“Sadly no,” Mary sighed, taking the opportunity to stretch and used both her hands to push her hair behind her ears. “I’m considering trying to poke around Solaris Industries firewalls, but that’s not going to be easy several thousand miles away.”

“With any luck we’ll be taking a visit to the States soon,” Cerian told her. “I’m just as eager to follow up on this as you, believe me.”

“Yeah,” Mary yawned. “Anything from our dear Mr. Rush?”

“I’d imagine Patrick is busy,” Cerian told her, sighing in resignation. “If I don’t hear from him soon, I’ll continue the operation myself.”

She bit her lip and returned to looking at the screen. “Good.”

Cerian left the room and walked into the kitchen, where Ren and Darril were playing a game of checkers on the table. Cerian had never liked that game, found it too simplistic, but did see how others might. He pulled out a glass and listened to the two men as he poured water into it.

“So, you think Israel and Germany actually know the Commander is in charge of XCOM?” Darril asked as they played.

Ren shrugged. “Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew.”

Darril snorted. “You’d think they’d have an issue with that.”

Ren eyed him as he took a couple pieces and Darril winced as he saw his blunder. “Why?” Ren asked. “Nowinski essentially worked with the Commander during the War on Terror. Habicht seems more focused on control of Germany to me.”

“They like power,” Darril noted.

“Right,” Ren nodded. “And XCOM is a means to power. While they aren’t the greatest force in the world, they are likely the most advanced and dangerous. Control the tech and you could control far more than just one country.”

“Kinda surprised Russia or China haven’t made some kind of deal,” Darril quipped as he took one of Ren’s pieces. “I would have thought them to leap at the opportunity, neutrality be damned.”

“From what I’ve heard, China isn’t happy with the Commander at the moment,” Cerian interjected, walking over by them and taking a seat. “They didn’t exactly like their play to block the Chinese from the dreadnought wreckage.”

“Yeah, but won’t that be sorted within the month?” Ren asked, looking over at him. “I’m pretty sure China managed to clear those claims quicker than usual.”

“Oh they did,” Cerian confirmed. “But they won’t forget so quickly.”

“Well if nothing else, I can applaud the Commander for the sheer gall to challenge the Chinese like that,” Darril stated, raising his glass of water in a mock acknowledgement. “But realistically, what can China really do about it aside from being really angry.”

Cerian paused and looked up. “They can reduce their funding, worse case they leave completely. But Russia and several other countries have stepped up their funding in response, negating whatever effect China may have had.”

“Question,” Ren spoke up suddenly. “What’s the United States’ response to all this? They supporting the Commander or not?”

Cerian hesitated before answered. That question was also one that had interested him, but Patrick hadn’t really given a satisfactory response. “Don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Based on insinuations from Patrick, it sounds like the US is staying neutral here and letting China and Russia lead the different sides.”

“Odd for the US to step back,” Darril muttered. “They love being the center of attention.”

“Well, if there was one country that could manage that, it would be them,” Ren commented. “King me.”

Darril sighed and complied. “So, Cerian-“

He was cut off as Cerian’s phone began ringing. Both men stopped and looked at him. Cerian immediately stood and looked at his phone. A scrambled number, about time he was getting some contact. He answered. “Hello, operative Irelan speaking?”

 _“Cute,”_ the voice of Patrick answered, sounding more exasperated than amused. _“Who do you think would be calling you?”_

“Good question,” Cerian answered, walking out of the room. “Honestly, at this point I didn’t know if you’d be calling me back. There a reason you’ve waited so long? We could have acted _days_ ago.”

 _“Apologies, but I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,”_ Patrick answered, his tone weary and irritated. _“XCOM attacked a Russian site they presumably learned from the files soon after you sent them to the Russian government. We suspect it was a site for these ‘EXALT’ people, but XCOM didn’t leave anyone left to speak. Not to mention the Russian’s secured the area soon after.”_

“So?” Cerian asked. “Regardless of your opinion of XCOM, if EXALT has moved against them, XCOM is technically obligated to deal with them as they see fit.”

 _“I’m not in the mood to argue technicalities,”_ Patrick answered, exhaustion in his tone. _“That isn’t even why I’m calling you, I just felt you needed an update on the reason for my delay.”_  

That excuse might have worked on anyone else, but Cerian wasn’t that fooled. “It might have been part of the reason, but it certainly wasn’t all of it. However, I’d also prefer we moved on. You get everything my team was able to compile on EXALT and the files?”

 _“Yes, we have it.”_ Patrick confirmed.

“Right,” Cerian nodded to himself as he stepped outside. “So, do you want us in the States?”

 _“You’re not going to America,_ ” Patrick answered.

Cerian frowned and looked at the phone. “ _Sorry_?” He asked incredulously. “But…ah, _why_? Solaris Industries is our clear next target, especially since we don’t have anything new for XCOM.”

 _“I should remind you that your purpose is to investigate XCOM, not EXALT, or whatever they’re calling themselves,_ ” Patrick reminded him with a sigh. _“EXALT is something we can deal with later.”_

“I disagree,” Cerian stated flatly. “No matter if EXALT is real or not, the fact remains that this organization is complicit in criminal activity and has incriminated one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the United States. If EXALT is working against XCOM, and by extension, with the aliens, I would feel that warrants our investigation.”

 _“It does,_ ” Patrick agreed wearily. _“But believe it or not, there is another reason you’re not being sent over to America. Yet.”_

Well, that was better. “Go on.”

 _“One of our watchers in Tel Aviv spotted your XCOM agents,”_ Patrick said. _“For obvious reasons, we want you to investigate.”_

 _That_ got Cerian’s attention and he stormed into the house. “Hold for a moment,” he told Patrick and looked toward Mary. “Mary! Tap into the security feeds at Tel Aviv. We’ve got XCOM agents apparently.”

Mary gave him a thumbs up. “Got it, boss!”

Cerian returned to the phone. “Israel? Why would they be there?”

 _“Presumably the Commander is just as curious about their recent activity as us,”_ Patrick answered. _“But we don’t know for sure. Regardless, this time your mission will be twofold. Find out what XCOM is doing, and also learn what you can about the operations Israel is conducting.”_

“Got it,” Cerian confirmed. “We’ll head out right away.”

 _“After this I’ll have you follow up on the Solaris lead,”_ Patrick assured him. _“Regardless about what some of my superiors believe, this should be solved before it becomes a problem.”_

Cerian raised an eyebrow. “Oddly practical of you, and smart if I’m being honest.”

 _“Thanks,”_ Patrick commented sarcastically. _“Purely practical in this case. If I told you to ignore it again, you’d likely just disobey and I’d really prefer keeping tabs on you. Finding rogue agents is no fun.”_

Cerian snorted. “Come now, I’d never do that.”

_“Well, I’d prefer not to find out. Good luck.”_

“Yeah, thanks.” Cerian hung up and banged a fist on the wall. “Load up everyone! Pack desert gear, we’re going to Israel!”

***

_Israel, Unmarked Location_

“Can I ask you something?” Abby asked Ruth as they laid on the dunes while the sun set behind them. Clothed in tan desert garb, their faces completely covered up along with any exposed skin, Abby still found it annoying how grains of sand still got in her eyes, mouth and nose.

Ruth didn’t seem bothered, but Abby figured she was used to this since she’d grown up here. With the binoculars pressed to her eyes, Ruth didn’t look over as she responded. “Go ahead.”

Abby hesitated. It might not be the best time, but they had a while before the sun set completely, allowing them to enter undetected. Even if it was, Ruth wouldn’t get irritated at her. Hopefully, anyway. “If it’s not prying too much, were you always a Kidon agent or it happened…later?”

Ruth put down the binoculars. “I wasn’t always an agent, no. But I wasn’t especially special before it either.”

“What did you do?” Abby asked.

“I was a teacher,” she answered slowly. “In Palestine long before the Pacification. I was very idealistic back then, thinking there would be where I could do the most good. Tensions between us and them were cold even back then, I thought I might be able to help that in some way.”

Abby looked over. “Did you?”

Ruth snorted. “The kids were great, they hadn’t been taught they were supposed to hate me yet. The parents weren’t so generous, but they were desperate for teachers regardless of where they came from. I figured if I let them be they’d eventually recognize I wasn’t there to hurt them or just get bored.”

“So…” Abby questioned. “I assume it didn’t work out.”

“Depends on your perspective,” Ruth shrugged. “I suspected one of the students was being abused, so for the next few weeks, I scoped him out, followed the father around some, even got the child to tell me what had happened.”

“You didn’t worry about the father coming after you?” Abby asked incredulously. “Not to mention being caught by someone else?”

“I was,” Ruth admitted, raising up her binoculars again. “But I wasn’t going to be intimidated. In the end, I gathered up all my evidence and went to the authorities,” her tone turned hard. “Who promptly laughed and kicked me out, despite everything I had. To make matters worse they informed the father I’d come and he promptly pulled the child out of school and I never saw him again,” she gave a humorless laugh. “Well, he must have been worried since he didn’t say anything do anyone else. Guess he didn’t want it turning into an actual investigation.”

“So what did you do?” Abby asked quietly.

“I sent everything I had to Israeli authorities,” Ruth muttered. “I didn’t actually think anything would come of it, but I was furious and wasn’t thinking very clearly. Turns out that guy was some high-profile criminal within Israel and they sent a Mossad agent to meet with me and gather information.”

“I suppose he offered you a job?” Abby guessed.

“Essentially,” Ruth nodded. “My position gave them a unique opportunity to gather information, since so many criminals and terrorists resided in the country. All I was to do was gather information on the parents of my students and pass it on. I did that for the remainder of the year.”

“And after that?” Abby asked.

“I requested a transfer to another nearby school and repeated the process,” Ruth answered. “I actually ran into some trouble this time, one of the parents caught onto me and decided to confront me in my house. When I refused to consider leaving the town, as well as the country, he pulled a knife on me.”

Abby had a feeling she knew how this story ended. “You killed him?”

“Not my finest or cleanest,” Ruth admitted, putting her binoculars down and resting her chin on her crossed arms. “But it sufficed. I’d prepared for that possibility, I covered the body and dragged it over by the house of a family that had terrorist ties. Once I planted a knife on his body with their fingerprints, I called the authorities. Anonymously, of course.”

Abby furrowed her eyebrows. “How did you get their fingerprints?”

“Easily,” Abby could hear the smile in her voice. “Parents do have to sign quite a few forms, even in Palestine.”

Abby shook her head in disbelief. Even as a teacher, she was still an utterly terrifying woman. But even knowing that, Abby could very easily see her getting along very well with kids. It was good she hadn’t lost that warmth she’d had while teaching. “What happened after that?”

“I stayed on for another year, with more or less the same results,” Ruth continued. “After that someone came and spoke to me, a Kidon agent and asked if I’d be interested taking a more…active role. My job was become much more dangerous and I figured it would only be a matter of time before I was forced to leave, so I accepted.”

She shrugged. “And that’s the story of how I became a Kidon agent.”

“From teacher to Kidon,” Abby commented. “Quite a big leap.”

“Perhaps,” Ruth agreed. “But not much different from surgeon to soldier to agent.”

Abby smiled at that. “Good point. I never would have thought I’d be doing this.”

“I’d like to ask you a question, actually,” Ruth said. “Why’d you want to become a surgeon?”

Abby shrugged. “I wanted to help people. That seemed like the best way to do so. You can’t do much more than save lives.”

“An admirable goal,” Ruth nodded. “Not many hold your position. I suppose that’s why it’s harder for you.”

Abby grimaced. “Would you really know that?”

“Not for sure,” Ruth admitted. “But it makes sense. You took an oath to help people, I’m not blind to the fact that we haven’t been doing that recently.”

Abby sighed. “Does that change anything? We have our orders.”

“Of course,” Ruth nodded. “But you’re still human, you still might feel guilty about what we do. But ask yourself if what we do is worth it if we save more people. How many did you save on the operating table? A few hundred? Maybe more?”

The numbers weren’t important to her, Abby knew she’d never be able to help everyone, so just focused on the ones who came her way. “Something like that.”

“Right,” Ruth nodded. “And think of how many thousands we’ll save, and only at the cost of a few people who clearly don’t deserve that privilege. It’s normal to feel guilty at first, but don’t let that blind you to the good that will come from it.”

Abby sighed. She understood the point Ruth was making, but there was a tangible difference between her work as a surgeon and what she was doing now. Sure, thousands might be saved, but in the end it was theoretical, Ruth didn’t _actually_ know if their actions would have saved anyone, but she knew for sure that one man was going to suffer a horrendous death just based on the possibility.

“You don’t think we ever go too far?” Abby asked.

Ruth looked her in the eye. “That depends on the context. In the interest of saving humanity I doubt we could go “too far,” but for something on a smaller scale, it largely depends on the person we target. Tell me, Abby, do you think everyone is worth saving? Everyone deserving the same amount of decency and respect?”

“At least on some level,” Abby answered. “No matter what they’ve done, they are still human.”

“On the outside, perhaps,” Ruth murmured. “I suppose I have a different outlook. I don’t believe every person is worth saving, nor should they be afforded the same rights and treatments decent people receive. Criminals, terrorists, traitors, aliens, I see no reason to treat them any better than they deserve.”

Abby sighed. “I get that…and to some extent I even agree with it. But regardless of how useful or justified it is, it’s not right.”

“’Right’ is subjective,” Ruth pointed out, her tone turning deliberately neutral. “You heard of the Trolley Problem?”

“In passing,” Abby answered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Imagine a railroad,” Ruth answered. “A group of people are tied on the tracks and a train is coming. You’re by a switch that can divert the train, but on the alternate track, there is another person tied up. So, what do you do?”

Abby sighed. “Switch the tracks and sacrifice the one person.”

“Right,” Ruth told her. “That’s what we do. Sacrifice a few to save many. Do you think that was the ‘right’ thing to do?”

“I still don’t know if I’d call it that,” Abby said. “But it was the best option out of the two.”

“And is the interrogation of a few criminals and terrorists not worth saving potentially thousands?” Ruth pressed. “It’s the same thought process. Is it right? Debatable, but few would say it’s worse than the alternative or doing nothing.”

Ruth did have a point here, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Even from her youth she’d been taught that inflicting harm on others was wrong and almost always unjustified. In med school that had been emphasized even more, with quite a bit of time devoted to malpractice to drive that point home. The War on Terror had shown the results of a complete lack of empathy on both sides.

But she had to admit, she’d always viewed it as a binary choice, more or less. Good people didn’t hurt others, but from working just within XCOM, and now with people like Ruth, she didn’t feel that was accurate anymore. Ruth might not exactly be a good woman, but she certainly wasn’t evil either.

She wasn’t so sure about herself anymore. She’d passed the point of no return way back when she watched the Commander torture that woman and did nothing. In XCOM Intelligence she’d tried to limit the brutality in the little ways she could, but the fact remained she was still complicit in their activities, and like it or not, they were justified.

Ruth seemed to indicate that this bout of self-reflection was normal for newer agents, but Abby wondered how long it would really last. No wonder intelligence work was considered stressful. Right now she just wanted to get on with the mission.

“Another patrol coming up,” Ruth noted as she looked through her binoculars. Abby picked up her own and looked through.

The Israeli IDF had definitely put their alien alloys to good use, since the soldiers were all wearing some form of armor. The tan-painted plates weren’t nearly as thick or covered more than XCOM armor, but they covered all the major organs, arms and legs. Their helmets were also standardized, and looked more like astronaut helmets than the ones XCOM utilized.

For starters there seemed to be less metal actually in the helmets. The lower metal part covered their jaws, cheeks, mouth and extended up to the back of the head. What covered the top of the head and curved just past the nose was some kind of black dome. The gap between the armored part and the dome was filled by some kind of transparent substance, likely plastic.

They must have some kind of HUD, because there was no way they could see out of those helmets normally. It was impressive what they’d been able to do regardless. “We’re really going to stand out,” Abby muttered as they watched the patrol complete their sweep around the perimeter of the town.

“I’ve let our guy know that,” Ruth assured her. “He said he’d take care of it.”

“Let’s hope so,” Abby said, frowning as she looked for more patrols. “At least there don’t seem to be many here.”

“For now,” Ruth countered. “Either they’re training for small groups to take over towns or more will be coming.”

The watch on Abby’s wrist beeped. “Akello’s signal. Guess our guy is ready.”

Ruth rose to one knee and put the binoculars away. “Let’s go.” Both women walked down the dunes, keeping a sharp lookout for any more Israeli soldiers. The town was mostly made up of sand-blasted concrete homes with barely more than three rooms. They weren’t dilapidated, but they did appear to be abandoned.

Abby wondered why they’d all left.

Once they reached the perimeter, they kept close to the walls, moving along the sides listening for footsteps on the sandy streets. Ruth motioned to one of the seemingly abandoned buildings. Abby nodded and they both dashed towards the entrance after making sure the streets were clear.

Once Abby was through, Ruth quickly closed the door behind her. Abby took a breath and saw the man sitting in a wooden chair, a pistol pointed at them. “Take off the headgear,” he advised, moving the gun for emphasis. He looked fairly young, brown-skinned, his black hair buzz cut and bright blue eyes.

Abby slowly and deliberately took off the goggles, desert shawl and cloth around her face. Ruth did the same.  The man she assumed was Eldad Levi lowered his weapon. “Agents Ruth and Abby, good. Glad you came so soon.”

“Time of the essence?” Ruth asked as she took a seat.

“Not if you mind your job harder,” Eldad shook his head. “If you’d waited a few more days, there would be a _lot_ more soldiers than now. These ones are here just to secure the area.”

“Right,” Ruth nodded. “So what’s going on here?”

Eldad tapped two cases that were setting by his feet. “First put these on, I’ll explain while you get dressed,” he stood and opened the cases. “The new standard-issue מָגֵן armor,” Eldad explained. “You’ll need it to avoid being spotted,” he nodded at Abby. “Especially her, no one here has skin as light as hers.”

Abby grimaced, but he had a point. Still, did he expect them to change right _now_? Ruth didn’t seem to mind and was already removing her heavier garments while she just stood there. Eldad gave a dramatic sigh and turned his back to her. Somewhat meekly, Abby started transferring to the new armor.

“The Israeli army is going to be performed a series of war scenarios and games over the next few months,” Eldad said as they undressed. “Scenarios range from an attack on Tel Aviv to subduing a hostile town. I don’t have confirmation on any of this, but the general consensus is Israel is planning a conquest, which I’m sure you’ve already guessed.”

“I don’t suppose you have any more specifics?” Abby grunted as she began putting on the armor. It was nowhere near as comfortable as XCOM’s.

“Whatever the IDF is planning, it won’t be implemented soon,” Eldad continued. “They know full well what would happen, so my guess is that they’re waiting for a specific event. Something to draw _everyone’s_ attention. Once the rest of the world is distracted, they make their move.”

“It’d have to be something huge to cause an Israeli attack not to get much attention,” Abby commented. “So, you think Israel will be behind this event?”

“It’s a definite possibility,” Eldad admitted. “Mrs. Shira would likely know if they would consider it, let alone have the resources to pull it off.”

“I have no doubt they have multiple plans,” Ruth confirmed as she pulled on her gauntlets. “When I was with the Kidon we had contingencies in case a superpower turned against us. Something on the scale we’re talking about here would likely be either assassination, or two major powers going to war. The second is much harder to pull off.”

Abby put the helmet on and let it click into her armor, a few seconds later, a basic HUD appeared, sentences in Hebrew in the lower part of her HUD and in the corners. “Is any of this important?” She asked.

Eldad turned around and appraised her. “The HUD? No, just displays some environmental information. Not much different from XCOM tech, so I’m told. But ignore the Hebrew unless you intend to be fighting.”

“This is not bad,” Ruth commented, as she rolled her shoulders, adjusting to the armor. “They really outdid themselves here.”

“The Prime Minister has pulled every scientist he has into the military,” Eldad informed. “It didn’t take much convincing, so I’m told. They still haven’t really managed to improve their weapons, so you’ll just use these.” He walked over to the wall and grabbed several assault rifles standing in the corner and handed the weapons to them.

“The main command center is in the middle of town,” Eldad said while they adjusted their weapons. “After you exit this building, pass approximately four buildings and you’ll come onto the main street. Take a left and follow that towards the town center. You’ll see it easily, there are tents and they’ve set up in the building that clearly has electricity. How you get in is up to you.”

“Anything we should know?” Ruth asked.

“Some of them might ask for passwords,” Eldad cautioned. “Treat them as a joke, laugh, whatever, but _don’t_ give them an answer, it’s a trap. However, right before you enter the command building they will ask for authorization. The number is four-three-one-six-dash-A-M-G.”

“Got it,” Abby nodded.

Eldad eyes her. “You know any Hebrew?”

Abby shook her head. “Afraid not.”

He pursed his lips. “Then I suggest you let Ruth do the talking. You get whatever you need to. After this you won’t see me again.”

“Understood,” Ruth nodded. “Thank you.”

He waved to the door. “Appreciated, convey my thanks to Director Zhang for the quick response.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Abby assured him, and they walked out the door into the street.

“You have Akello’s drive?” Ruth asked as they walked the directions given to them by Eldad.

Abby reached in her pocket and pulled out the drive. “Right here,” Akello was trying something different this time. Instead of having the drive allow her to connect to the database, she’d made it so it would copy everything to the drive itself, since it was already embedded in the system.

It seemed rather simplistic to Abby, but “That’s how IT works,” according to Akello. The way she’d said that while snickering indicated to Abby that Akello was making fun of her limited computational experience. Whatever, what mattered was that it worked. Akello hadn’t let them down yet and she didn’t expect it would be different now.

“There it is,” Abby muttered. The only two-story building was lit up with four soldiers guarding the perimeter, with two additional guards by the entrance. Both women ignored the four soldiers and went straight to the entrance.

“אנחנו צריכים להיכנס פנימה.” Ruth told the two guards.

Both looked at each other. “קוד אימות.” The right one asked, his voice sounding suspicious. She seriously wished she spoke Hebrew right now.

“ארבע שלוש אחד שש מקף בתחתוני.” Ruth answered.

Abby held her breath. The possibility that Eldad had been wrong hadn’t really occurred to her, but she suddenly was concerned. _Please be right…_

The two guards stepped aside Ruth and Abby quickly entered into the building. There were two rooms, immediately to their sides. Both rooms contained rows of computers, but were adequately filled. Unfortunately, Abby realized that in her armor, she’d stand out with all the analysts in far more casual attire.

“I’ll distract one,” Ruth whispered as she began moving into the rightmost room. Abby followed a second later while she watched Ruth go over to one of the analysts and began talking. Abby took that opportunity to kneel down by one of the computers and slip Akello’s drive into a USB port. A blinking red light appeared at the end. She assumed that when it turned green it would be finished.

She prayed it wouldn’t be too long.

Ruth was chatting up the guy, who was having an intense conversation, even pointing at the screen to show her something. They were talking so fast Abby couldn’t even begin to keep up. She walked to the end of the door and took a stance, as if standing guard. Hopefully no one would….

_Oh no._

A man was walking down the stairs, but it became quickly apparent that he wasn’t an analyst, nor a soldier for that matter. His uniform was more ceremonial, with several badges and medals on his uniform. Probably the commanding officer. Out of pure habit she snapped into a salute, which she luckily knew thanks to Ruth.

He nodded in her direction, then frowned as he heard Ruth and the analyst talking. Abby breathed a sigh of relief at that, if he’d asked her a question, she was dead. But he walked over and began talking with them.

Abby couldn’t tell what was going on, but now Ruth was pointing at the screen and conversing rapidly, at least to her. Now the officer was apparently interested, judging by how he leaned in and was also gesturing at the screen, clearly asking her more questions.

Time was passing either really quickly or slowly, she couldn’t really tell, but they talked for a good ten minutes and Abby decided to check on the drive.

A solid green.

Moving as casually as she could over to the computer, she knelt down and pulled out the drive with a soft click. Putting it into a pocket she stood, no one apparently noticing. She nodded to Ruth who seemed to understand and returned to her “guard” position.

As the minutes dragged on, she was wondering if Ruth hadn’t overplayed her hand, since the officer appeared not to want to let her go. But finally he said something, she saluted and walked over, leaving the officer and the analyst to keep talking.

“Let’s go,” she muttered.

Abby didn’t need to be told twice and both of them walked out of the building at a brisk pace. No one questioned them, and both women didn’t speak, not wanting too until it was safe. They did pass a patrol, but they must have assumed they were friendly since they just walked on by.

They reached the edge of the town and began heading to the small dune buggy they’d arrived in, which they’d use to get to the extraction point where a skyranger would pick them up. As the town faded in the background, Abby breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

They’d done it.

***

_Israel, Unmarked Location_

The Council was not going to be happy.

Cerian didn’t necessarily mean that in a negative way towards him, but looking through his scope on the abandoned town below, he couldn’t see any positive the Council could pull from this. Concerned, frustrated or angry…those were more along the lines of what he was expecting them to feel.

But he’d be lying if he didn’t find this incredibly interesting.

Cerian had long held the opinion that Israel should just really be left alone. They clearly didn’t get along with the UN, nor many others for that matter and had shown they were perfectly willing to outright defy them in pursuit of their own security and interests. In short, no good could really come from treating them as any other country, or holding them to the same standards.

Despite their small size, Israel had become a genuinely advanced nation, and Cerian knew that one day someone would provoke them and start a new Middle East conflict. Judging by the Israeli soldiers marching in front of him, it seemed Israel itself was already preparing for that possibility.

Truth be told, he actually didn’t have a clue why they were actually here. The most logical explanation for this was they were performing training exercises or drills. Which then brought up additional questions such as “why here?” and “why now?” Hard as he found it to believe, it looked like Israel was preparing for war.

And _not_ against the aliens, either.

This reeked of wanting to be hidden **.** If Israel was preparing for the aliens, they would do so in traditional areas, well within the public eye, more or less. The fact that they were not again brought up concerns about what they were doing.

Because if Israel _was_ preparing for war…who were they planning against.

He wasn’t even sure why he was debating this. Israel was many things, but stupid they were not. Starting a war _now_ would be utterly foolish and bring down the armies of multiple superpowers upon them. Unless they were deliberately provoked, Cerian could see no way that Israel could come out of a war looking good, if they came out at all.

Why XCOM was here he still wasn’t sure, but he suspected they wanted to know the same thing he did. He’d spotted the two XCOM agents, whom he suspected were Abby and Ruth, respectively, entering the village. Luckily, he’d moved his own people in it well before they’d arrived and they were reporting to him now.

 _“They’re still in that house,”_ Olivia reported through his earpiece. _“Can confirm they haven’t exited.”_

“Unless of course there’s another exit,” Cerian muttered as he watched another patrol go by.

The new armor was also very interesting, and concerning. He had no doubt that it was the result of the applying the alien metals they’d been receiving from XCOM. While impressive, it made their army suddenly the most advanced in the world, beyond the United States, Russia and China, something he’d never thought he’d actually see.

If this was just their armor, he wondered what other tech they’d developed.

 _“They’re leaving,”_ Ren interrupted his thoughts. _“Looks like they have disguises now, those new Israeli armor suits.”_

 _“Heading towards the center,”_ Olivia updated. _“Should I follow?”_

“Follow, but do not engage,” Cerian ordered. “I want to know who they were talking to.”

_“Copy that,”_

Cerian wasn’t sure there actually _was_ anyone in that house. But if there was he had plans. The winds blew over him for a few minutes as he waited.

 _“New contact coming out,”_ Baston suddenly updated. _“An Israeli soldier. He’d probably a mole.”_

Cerian trained his rifle on the edge of the village. “Proceed with the plan.”

_“Will do.”_

Cerian watched, waiting for the soon to be captured mole to stumble out into his sights. He figured it was time to take a more direct role in figuring out exactly what Israel _and_ XCOM were doing, and nabbing this mole was a good start.

Ren and Baston would drive him out using distractions, letting themselves be seen and letting him chase after them. Even if he was a mole, he’d still act the part of the soldier and that included running after suspicious people. He wouldn’t call it in either since that might raise questions as to what he was doing.

Worst case scenario he didn’t fall for it and they left with no one the wiser. Best case they captured him.

 _“Heads up, Cerian,”_ Ren informed after a few minutes, his voice tight. _“Target approaching.”_

A figure in the Israeli armor came charging outside the perimeter, his weapon raised. He looked more confused than anything, but it was enough for Cerian. “Target in sight,” he informed calmly. “Move in.”

With that he fired a shot from his silenced sniper rifle. The bullet hit a weak spot by the knee, forcing him to fall to the ground. A second shot through his right arm rendered it useless and he dropped the weapon. A final shot through the opposite arm severely restricted his ability to fight back.

Ren and Bastion appeared, leaped on and pinned the man to the ground. Ren ripped off his helmet and placed a towel drenched in Tracrium over his nose and the man was out within a minute, thrashing weakly as Ren and Baston held him down. Their mission one, Ren hauled him onto his back and they began trotting over to his position.

 _“Cerian, both XCOM agents have entered the central command building,”_ Olivia updated. _“Instructions?”_

“Pull back,” Cerian ordered as he stood. “Let XCOM conduct their investigation, we have what we need.”

_“You got him?”_

Cerian smiled as he looked at the sleeping body of the XCOM informant, as Darril began tending to his wounds. “We certainly did, and I have a few questions for him.”

***

_Skyranger, Preparing for takeoff_

“Woo!” Akello cheered as they boarded the skyranger. “You did it!”

Abby flipped the helmet in her hands. “Wasn’t easy, but we managed.”

“Yes!” Akello clapped her hands together. “So, give me the drive. Let’s see what they’ve been doing.”

Abby and Ruth exchanged a long look. “Uh, Ruth…” Abby began tentatively. “You _did_ grab the drive right?”

Ruth’s eyes widened. “No…I thought you did. You had it, right?”

Abby made a show of reaching into her pockets. “Uh…oh no. There might be a problem…”

Abby looked at Akello who had a look of pure terror and dismay. “You…you did not…” she stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

Abby and Ruth exchanged another look and burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face,” she said in between laughs. “I really should have taken a picture.”

“Agreed,” Ruth chuckled. “Come now, did you really think _we_ would leave that drive behind?” Abby tossed the drive to her.

“I hate both of you so much,” Akello muttered, flushing red. “For the record, I knew you were joking the whole time.”

“Sure you did,” Abby teased as she went to sit down. Ruth took a seat by Akello who was already typing furiously after she inserted the drive into her computer.

The skyranger ramp closed and Abby felt them lift off. “Well…” Akello began after a few minutes. “Good and bad news here.”

“What is it?” Ruth demanded.

“We got all their files,” Akello confirmed. “Bad news is I can’t tell what’s in them.”

“Why?” Abby asked, growing worried.

“It’s all in Hebrew,” Akello shrugged. “So it can be translated, but it’ll take much longer.”

Ruth motioned for the laptop. “Give it to me, let’s see what I can find.”

Akello surrendered her laptop and Ruth began scrolling through the long list of files. Abby closed her eyes and leaned back, wondering how long it’d take for her to fall asleep. “That armor doesn’t look bad,” Akello noted. “The Israelis did well.”

“I suppose it’s better than what’s used today,” Abby admitted. “But it’s nowhere near XCOM levels.”

Akello shrugged. “If you say so. I never wore any myself.”

They rode in silence for a while, Abby was almost asleep when she heard Ruth whistle. “My, my, Prime Minister. You really aren’t messing around.”

“What is it?” Abby asked, shifting in her position.

Ruth looked up, incredulity in her voice. “I just stumbled on a _very_ interesting document. Considering how accurate this is, and it appears completely genuine, it describes exactly the plans Israel has for the Middle East.”

“How could you find it that fast?” Akello asked, frowning.

“Short version is that all big operation names are usually overly dramatic and symbolic,” Ruth explained. “The guy who always came up with the operations names back when I was with the Kidon was really into that, not to mention he was extremely organized. Level four is the highest rank he used, so I looked at that folder first. Not too many options then.”

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense,” Abby encouraged, waving her hand. “Tell us.”

“This is currently designated as Operation: הופעת,” Ruth answered. “As for what’s in it, _that_ conversation should wait until I’ve actually confirmed what’s in here and Director Zhang is present.”

Abby sighed. “You do remember I don’t speak Hebrew, right? Can you at least tell me what that…word means?”

 _“Advent_ ,” Ruth supplied. “It means Advent.”

Abby frowned. “I am assuming that they are _not_ referring to the holiday?”

“Symbolic, as I said,” Ruth nodded. “Advent means a coming of something, and knowing how symbolism works, I believe it’s intended to mean the coming of a new beginning for the Middle East. Under the leadership of Israel, of course.”

Akello whistled. “Damn. I honestly didn’t think they’d actually do this.”

Abby shook her head in disbelief. “The Commander is going to be very interested in this.”

“Oh, he most certainly will be.” Ruth agreed as she returned to her laptop.

Abby rested her head back, thoughts blazing through her mind.

 _Advent_.

She wasn’t sure why, but that word had an ominous feeling towards it now. She’d never thought of the word in any specific context, positive or negative, but now could really only prescribe one word towards how she felt about it now.

 _Foreboding_.

Should something horrible happen, she had the feeling _Advent_ was going to be in the middle of it.

On that cheery thought, she finally fell asleep, thankfully not disturbed by dreams.


	21. Moving Forward

 

_Unknown location_

Annette was rattled awake as she felt the plane descending rapidly. She gritted her teeth as the shaking worsened, realizing just how much worse it was from regular commercial flights. A few minutes later she felt a hard bump and realized to her relief that they’d finally touched down.

She relaxed and laid on the hard metal inside the crate. She was still hungry, cold and drained. But she wasn’t as exhausted as she had been. So now it was time to figure out how she was going to get out of _this_ place. Running for it _was_ a distinct possibility…unless they’d landed on an island or barge of some kind.

But if possible, she wanted to leave without being detected, because even if she _did_ manage to outrun the guards who were surely stationed outside, EXALT would immediately know the area she was, and have their people in all the nearby cities and towns.

Annette slowed her breathing, closed her eyes and concentrated. The mishmash of words, sentences, images and emotions of those nearby washed over her. It took some more concentration, but she was able to separate them into little clusters in her head. Distinct, unique minds working ceaselessly.

There were…thirteen? Probably more and she couldn’t sense them. Few enough that she could _probably_ escape unnoticed if she waited for the right moment. But _waiting_ was going to be difficult. Not to mention she didn’t know if they’d be looking her way or not, and she wasn’t sure if she could reliably control their minds.

An indefinite amount of time passed before she felt two people coming closer, as well as hearing a loud door open. Now she could hear the two men actually talking, the language foreign to her. It sounded like Chinese, but she didn’t know for sure. Her box began moving and now she was close enough to the person pushing it to hear more coherent sentences.

_…Cargo delivered on time…_

_…Russians need to get their act together…_

_…XCOM on the defensive again, hopefully they’ll prepare…_

_…Mercado better upgrade the tech soon…_

XCOM again. She still didn’t know who they were, but if they were enemies of EXALT, it might be a good idea to try and find them. Because she probably couldn’t trust anyone else in the government, or military for that matter. Not worth taking the risk of them catching her again.

So…what was her plan?

 _Get out of here first,_ she told herself, _then strategize._

Her crate had stopped a few minutes ago and she didn’t feel anyone near her. She took a breath. It was now or never. She pushed up and pulled herself out of the crate and tumbled onto the ground. It was early morning, so it wasn’t that bright out yet. Still the first thing she noticed was, to her relief, that it didn’t seem to be an island, and definitely wasn’t a barge.

She was on an airstrip, true, surrounded by boxes and crates. The plane was parked in front of a warehouse, but it was the only building in the nearby area. There were some dirt roads that she could see in the distance, but she couldn’t tell how far they went.

The area itself appeared to be fairly isolated, as trees surrounded them completely, though she couldn’t tell how deep in the forest they actually were. There were also guards, but they weren’t focused her direction and the workers were moving cargo directly from the plane to the warehouse.

But what gave her hope was that she could see city lights in the distance, above the trees that surrounded this airstrip. She heaved a sigh of relief. Now-

“Hey?” Someone behind her called.

Adrenaline coursed through her body and without thinking she locked in on the mind behind her and closed down on it, light purple waves rippled down her arms as she spun around, raising her hand at the man who was standing behind her, a confused expression on his face.

He was Asian, but if he was a native here, she couldn’t tell. “ _Down!”_ She whispered, echoing and emphasizing that sentiment in her mind. She realized she’d likely lose control once her adrenaline faded. His irises shimmed a faint purple, a reflection of her control, but it wasn’t direct like when she’d taken control of the EXALT guard at her cell. He would simply follow whatever orders she wanted.

His expression turned blank and he knelt to the ground.

Great. What was she going to do? She couldn’t just let him go, and even if she incapacitated him, he’d wake up and tell them she was here. She really only had two options: Kill him or let him go.

She could certainly kill him, either with his gun or her knife…but she didn’t really want to do that again. Yet killing him was the only chance she’d have of escaping unnoticed. Whereas by just knocking him out, she’d essentially be letting them know she was here.

A distraction, that was best, yes. “ _Listen,”_ she ordered. “ _Take your gun, walk out in front of the warehouse and shoot yourself in the head.”_ The man nodded blankly, and without comment, walked past her and kept going.

Now was the moment of truth. She relinquished her control and prayed he’d follow through on her order. He kept walking and she breathed a sigh of relief. When he shot himself and everyone went running…then she’d make her escape. The man stopped in front of the warehouse and put the gun to his head, which caused some of the nearby guards to yell something at him.

She smiled while she watched.

Too late.

The gun went off with a bang, and she felt the ripples of shock, surprise and alarm ripple through everyone nearby. Her smile turned to a grimace as a wave of exhaustion washed over her, causing her to double over. Taking several quick breaths, she quickly glanced right, then left, and seeing no one, took off into the trees before the city.

No one shouted after her and no bullets whizzed past her, so she just kept going.

And going.

And going.

Time and exhaustion were meaningless as terror ensured she put one foot in front of the other. She didn’t know how long she’d been stumbling forward as the sun rose over her, at this point she was just focused on putting as much distance between her and EXALT as possible. She occasionally glanced up to see the lights, a reassurance she was going the right way. Each time they seemed closer, but at the same time, so much farther away.

 _Just a bit farther,_ she told herself, _it can’t be that far now._

It all became a blur, and before she knew it she was collapsing in some alleyway corner, unable to stop it as exhaustion swept over her. At least she’d made it into the city.

***

_Still an unknown location, possibly Asia_

When she woke up, it was growing darker.

Annette pushed herself up, blinking tiredly as she looked around. Well, at least this meant they hadn’t found her yet. She was definitely in the slums area, judging by all the rundown apartments and buildings. The area seemed abandoned as well, especially since most of the windows were boarded up.

She hugged her knees to her chest as she tried to think of what to do now.

Right. First order of business was to get food, since she felt ravenous. There had to be some kind of fast food place around here, even if it wasn’t a western country. Of course, that highlighted another problem she had.

She had no money.

Which was going to pose a _slight_ problem. So the _actual_ first order of business was going to be to find some money, and there was really only one way she could see that would get her what she needed fast. Theft. Problem was she didn’t have the dexterity or subtlety of a pickpocket and would likely be caught.

Except…she really didn’t need to. All she really had to do was go up to someone and use her powers to have them hand whatever money they had over. They’d figure it out later, but by then she’d hopefully be long gone. She grimaced, it was one thing to force people to do things against their will when her life had been at stake, not to mention those EXALT guards had deserved it. But it felt wrong to use them on ordinary people who’d done nothing wrong except run into her.

But she didn’t have a choice.

Well, at the very least she could limit the damage. She stood, trying to ignore the hunger and as she dusted herself off, realized she had another potential issue, namely her dirtied white clothes. Even had they not been EXALT-make, they still stood out and looked exceptionally odd, like she’d escaped from a hospital or some mental institute. Which technically, wasn’t far off, but she didn’t want people to know that yet.

So, money, clothes and food. Annette nodded to herself. Not exactly a _firm_ plan, but it was the best she had at the moment. She started walking down the street, keeping an eye out for suspicious people. She didn’t fail to notice the billboards, fliers and graffiti all written in Chinese. Or was it Japanese? Whatever, it seemed she was in Asia somewhere, which was going to complicate things further if she had to deal with language barriers.

She walked for what felt like hours before she finally ran into some people on the street, all were Asians, so she figured her hypothesis was correct. Luckily they didn’t seem to mind her too much, only nodding in her direction, if they noticed her at all. She could sense their minds, but was too distracted to focus or hear what they were thinking.

A while later she felt she was definitely getting further into the town. Small cars drove through the dilapidated streets, and a decent amount of people roamed the sidewalks. She wasn’t out of the questionable part of town yet, but at least she was in the moderately populated part of it.

Annette finally stopped, and glanced around the area, trying to see if there was any place she could go. Her eyes lit up as she saw what looked like some kind of clothing store. Well, that was on her list and she might as well get out of these clothes now. Quickly dashing across the street, she opened the door and entered the small shop.

An older Asian lady was seated at the checkout desk, but the rows of clothes in front of her confirmed that this was what she was looking for. She stood there for a few seconds, trying to see where she should start. A much younger woman walked up, likely no older than her. “Hello,” she said, her accent clearly pronounced. “You need help?”

“Uh, no, no,” Annette denied, shaking her head. “I’m fine.” Ignoring the woman, she went over and began rummaging through the racks. Something neutral, something that wouldn’t attract attention was what she would like. Fashion was something she’d never been that into, and now she wondered if an interest would have helped now.

Black seemed to suspicious to her, a little _too_ incognito. Grays were probably best, and with that in mind, she picked out some grey pants that were in her size, along with a jacket the same color. She wondered if a grey shirt would also work for underneath, but wondered if it might be better to break up the color scheme. She spotted a whitish shirt and walked over and picked it up.

It wasn’t pure white, it had a grayish tint, but would contrast well with her jacket. At the very least she would look completely normal. All her clothing sorted, she headed over to the changing room and quickly dressed in her new garments.

Now…she needed to leave without paying.

Annette had pulled off all the tags, so she might have been able to pass these as her own had someone noticed her leaving. The problem was that the worker _had_ noticed her entering, when she was wearing a much different set of clothing. So…best case scenario, Annette left when she wasn’t looking.

Problem was that it was a small store and there hadn’t been anyone else when she’d entered. Annette sighed, when all else failed she might as well march out with confidence. The worst that could happen was that she was stopped and then had to use her powers to leave.

She opened the changing room door and peeked out. Luckily the worker was speaking with some new customer and Annette saw her chance and began walking towards the door in a roundabout way, occasionally glancing towards the woman. She reached the door and exited as quickly as she could, breaking into a light jog once she was out.

Once she was a couple blocks down, she breathed a sigh of relief. Alright, one thing done. She felt bad about stealing from them, but she’d had no choice. But she couldn’t focus on that now. Next order of business was to get money.

She hesitated before pulling up the hood of her jacket. There was a risk she would draw more attention to herself now, since hooded people were generally regarded with more suspicion. But she had several things going for her, namely that she was a white woman, and as a general rule, women weren’t treated with nearly as much suspicion as men.

The advantage to this was that it would be a better way of hiding her face for the moment, and then she realized that _because_ she was a woman, it opened up a new set of problems. The most likely of which was being regarded as an easy target for robbery or rape, which was highly likely in this part of town. While she _could_ likely handle whoever came her way, that wasn’t something she wanted to deal with now.

She sighed. Worry about that later, now she needed to find some money.

***

_Japan, Somewhere_

Annette stood in front of a map written completely in Japanese. At least she assumed it was Japanese, because while she couldn’t read anything on it, she _had_ figured out she was somewhere in Japan. Apparently this city was not a very hot tourist attraction either, else there’d be some kind of English guide.

Well, she was in a normal part of the city now, or at the very least, the supposedly non-dangerous part. Annette shivered, it was dark now and she really needed to find somewhere to eat and sleep. She’d considered how best to get some money, and figured the best way was just to get it over with.

The man across the street talking on his phone seemed well off, and likely wouldn’t miss a small amount of money. Still, she had to be subtle about it, at least a little bit. Seeing no one around him, she casually strolled over. Fixing the location in her mind, she closed her eyes and focused on sensing him.

She took a breath. _Calm_. _Focused_. Time to see if she could just mentally suggest something. _Drop your wallet on the ground and walk away._ It wasn’t a full order, just a small suggestion she hoped would slip through and plant itself in his mind.

She let go and opened her eyes to see the man walking away. Heart pounding, she walked over to where he’d been standing and looked down. A brown wallet was laying on the concrete, just as she’d suggested. Moving quickly, she knelt down and swept it up into her hand and immediately began walking the opposite direction.

“Sorry,” she muttered to the man as she began going through it. Four credit cards, an ID of some kind, and what she felt was a decent amount of cash. She had no clue how much this was actually worth, but it must be enough to buy a meal. After that she could make a call

***

_Japan, Somewhere_

This odd mishmash of a bar and restaurant was a little odd, but Annette didn’t care that much. She really didn’t know what she’d really ordered either, but it was delicious. Some kind of seafood, she thought, but didn’t really feel the need to confirm. Though she was wondering if she was drawing too much attention to herself since she’d already ordered three full meals and was still hungry for more.

Nah, she could find somewhere to sleep tonight and have another meal tomorrow. But she was rejuvenated enough to begin formulating a solider plan. It wouldn’t be too long before that man realized he’d lost his wallet, so he’d probably cancel all his cards, preventing her from using them. Luckily she’d thought ahead and used the cards to buy the meals and saved the cash.

She would have withdrawn money, but had realized she didn’t know the pin numbers for the cards, which would prevent that. Not to mention she had no idea where banks or ATMs would be. As it stood now, she’d ditch the wallet after tonight, then find someone else and get the pin number along with the cards. Next she’d buy a ticket directly to France and plan from there.

First she’d call Latrell after finishing her meal here. Her boyfriend would be able to help with this, and his house would be a place to stay while she hid from EXALT. They had to know she’d escaped now, and would be looking for her. The only thing she was worried about with contacting him was that he wouldn’t believe her…which she couldn’t entirely blame him for. Her story would sound insane to essentially every rational person, regardless of its truth.

The most important thing she had to stress was secrecy. She’d been gone…it had to be months now. Everyone probably thought she was dead, and for the moment, it had to stay that way. Latrell’s father was high up in the French police, so if he knew she was alive, there was a good chance he wouldn’t keep it to himself, and EXALT agents would figure out where she was.

She pulled out one of the bills for a tip. She wasn’t sure of the exact dollars to yen conversion, but figured that ten thousand of anything was a lot. Standing, she walked over to the bar, wanting to get one last drink to go. After she ordered, the TV playing the Japanese equivalent of news caught her attention.

Onscreen was what looked like a…massive spaceship? She frowned. What? She took a seat and tried to figure out what was actually going on. She couldn’t understand the commenter, but the…Chinese soldiers moving through it seemed to indicate they were in charge of it.

“About time the Chinese wrap this charade up,” the man beside her muttered. She looked over at him in surprise. He was definitely not Asian, as his white skin clearly showed, but he was actually pretty old. There were wrinkles on his face, but he didn’t seem to lack much energy. He still had a full head of graying hair so…American, perhaps?

“What charade?” She asked casually, resting her arms on the bar.

He glanced over at her. “Oh, you know, the whole dispute over the alien dreadnaught-ship-thing. I’m surprised it took them this long really.”

It was all she could do not to drop her jaw. As it was she couldn’t help but blink in shock. _Alien_ dreadnought. Did he actually mean… “Uh, yeah,” she muttered tonelessly. “Surprising.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Hopefully the Chinese can actually use some of the tech before they attack again. Good think XCOM intervened or we’d have had something much worse than Hamburg.”

She perked up. _XCOM_. So…if they were known enough to the public that this guy could mention them casually, then was EXALT the same way? Now all those random snippets she’d heard when she was captured made sense. Contrary to what she’d thought, they actually _were_ talking about aliens from space.

She took a deep breath. Alright, new objective. Find out exactly _what_ had been happening since she’d been captured. Unfortunate she hadn’t taken that guy’s phone, a few searches on the internet could clear this up, and she didn’t want to exactly tell this guy that she had no clue what he was talking about.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” the man commented, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You new here?”

“Oh, no,” she shrugged. “Just passing through.”

He almost smirked at that, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, a tourist then. Not many come through here.”

“It’s on the way,” Annette answered, hoping he’d stop pressing. “Not really much to this.”

“Still,” he mused, looking right at her. “It’s nice to see some new faces.”

She was getting the impression that he was being a little too pointed in his questioning. As he looked back to the TV she focused on the minds closest to her and pressed hard against the nearest.

Then frowned to herself.

She couldn’t hear or sense anything, not even the streams of meaningless information. He _did_ exist, and she was certain it was him, but she couldn’t tell what he was feeling, let alone read his thoughts.

“Your drink?”

Annette returned to the world, shaking her head as the waitress looked at her curiously, a cup of juice in her hand. “Right,” Annette muttered as she pulled out the card and took the drink. “Uh, thanks.”

She left to use the card and Annette got up to go. She had no use for it anymore and had three more anyway. Someone suddenly grabbed her arms and she jerked around to see the old man looking at her intently. “You _do_ have a place to spend the night, don’t you?” He asked, very politely.

He let go of her arm and she glared at him. “That’s not your concern.”

He smiled. “Well, if you don’t, I’d recommend a place about four blocks down. Not the fanciest, but they have good prices. Affordable ones, especially for people with a… _limited_ amount of money.”

Yeah, he was definitely suspicious. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” She muttered as she walked away, not making eye contact with anyone in the restaurant. Once she was back on the street, she thought about what the man had said.

It could have just been friendly advice…but given how the past few months of her life had gone, she wasn’t exactly that trusting of random strangers offering suggestions, while slyly insinuating that they knew details they shouldn’t have known about.

She shook her head. No. Worst case she’d sleep on the streets again, but first she needed to make a phone call. Luckily she spotted a pay-phone booth across the street. It was something of a miracle that these things hadn’t been disposed of, what with everyone having their own phones now.

She closed the door in the booth behind her, and looked at the phone stand. This one had been upgraded to take credit cards and cash, so she had options if the man had cancelled his cards. She slid one of the cards and began dialing. She prayed that his number was still the same, or that no one else answered.

She heard a click and his deep voice greeted her. _“[This is Officer Latrell, who is this?]”_

She closed her eyes. “[Hey Latrell, it’s me. Annette.]”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “[Latrell,]” she asked again. “[Are you there?]”

 _“[Uh, yeah, yeah,]”_ he answered, flustered. _“[It’s just…you’re alive!]”_ He started laughing in disbelief at that, which she joined in. It was so great to finally hear his voice again.

“[Yes, I’m alive,]” she repeated. “[But I have to be careful. Are you alone?]”

 _“[I’m at my house, so yes,]”_ he confirmed. _“[Where have you been? What happened? Everyone thinks you’re dead!]”_

“[I was kidnapped, experimented on,]” she explained hurriedly. “[I don’t know how long I’ve been gone but I managed to escape.]”

 _“[Experimented on?]”_ His answered, his tone torn between worry and anger. _“[What-]”_

“[I’ll explain everything to you later,]” she interrupted, looking around. “[They’ll be looking for me now and I have to keep moving.]”

 _“[Where are you now?]”_ He demanded.

 _“_ [Japan,]” she answered, looking around. “[I’m not exactly sure where. But I’ll be trying to get back as soon as possible.]”

 _“[Alright, no, just stay put,]”_ Latrell stated. _“[I’ll take some people and come to you. You’ll be protected-]”_

“[No!]” She gasped, since she knew he would actually do it. “[Listen to me, you can’t tell _anyone_ I’m alive. They have people _everywhere_. I probably shouldn’t have called you to begin with, but you needed to know I was alive.]”

He was silent for a few minutes. _“[Ok, ok,]”_ he seemed to be talking to himself now. _“[You wouldn’t make this up, so I’ll trust you here. Against my better judgement. But how are you going to get back? Do you have money?]”_

She glanced at the wallet. “[Some. If I need to I’ll get more.]”

_“[How?]”_

She sighed. “[I’ll have to steal it.]”

Now he sounded concerned. _“[I could make a comment on that. But I’m more concerned you’ll get caught. You’re not a thief.]”_

“[No,]” she agreed. “[I’m not.]” She sighed. “[Look, it’ll make sense when I get back to France and explain everything. But remember, you can’t tell _anyone_. Not my parents, not my friends and _definitely_ not the police.]”

 _“[Alright,]”_ he conceded. _“[So where do you want to meet?]”_

She thought. “[I don’t think we should say here. They might find this call, and we’d be walking into a trap. I’ll call you once I’m there. You can come pick me up.]”

 _“[If they’re actually listening, they now know I’m helping you,]”_ Latrell pointed out, and she winced. _“[Lucky that I’ll be watching for any tampering. At least tell me who kidnapped you, please? Or do you not know?]”_

“[They’re called EXALT,]” she answered. “[But I don’t know what they are or what they do.]”

 _“[EXALT,]”_ Latrell repeated. _“[I’ll see what I can find.]”_

“[Be careful,]” she warned worriedly. “[These people will kill you if you dig too deep!]”

 _“[They should have thought of that before taking you,]”_ he stated coldly. _“[This won’t be the first corrupt organization I’ve busted.]”_

“[Seriously, don’t be a hero,]” she insisted worriedly. “[They aren’t a gang or random thugs. At least wait until I meet you first, please?]”

She heard him sigh. _“[Alright Annie, you win. But if you take too long I’m coming to find you. I don’t want to mourn a second time.]”_

“[Trust me,]” she whispered. “[I’ll come back to you.]”

 _“[Then I’ll see you soon,]”_ he answered quietly. _“[Love you, Annette.]”_

She smiled, it’d been so long since she’d heard that. “[Love you too, see you soon.]” With that she hung up the phone and leaned back against the booth door.

She hadn’t realized just how relieved she was now that someone else knew she was alive. Now all she had to do was get on a plane to France, make another call, then both of them could figure out how best to take EXALT down.

She drunk the juice that was in her hand, opened the booth door and began walking down the street, blocking out the additional voices as she tried to think. Tossing the bottle in the trash, she began focusing on her next task. Right, now to find someplace to sleep and-

Someone grabbed her arms and flung her violently to the left into a dark alley where she rolled onto the hard concrete. Blinking she looked up at two young Asian men, both dressed in ripped street cloths and pointing pistols at her.

She suddenly laughed. Of course this would happen now, when she needed it the least. These two were as dangerous to her as wild animals. Both of them looked at each other and the left one jabbed his pistol at her. “You. American. Put wallet on ground now.”

She stood and her amusement faded with each passing second. The smart thing to do would be just give them the wallet. It was going to be useless soon anyway, and she could just find some other person to steal from. Money was all these thugs wanted, and they’d leave her alone afterwards, probably.

But she was sick of being pushed around. Sick of being forced to act against her will. But she didn’t have to give in here. “[I’m not American, you idiot,]” she taunted in French, which he clearly didn’t understand.

He jabbed the gun at her again. “Wallet. Now.”

She felt the anger building inside her, and the power was already within her grasp.

All she had to do was let it out. But it wasn’t fair not to give them a chance to walk away. She shook her head and chuckled. “Listen…I’ve had a really long day. I’m tired, angry and frustrated. Please don’t push me any farther.”

The thug on the right snorted, clearly understanding more English than his partner. “Or what?” He demanded, jabbing his gun at her to emphasize his point, his Japanese accent heavily pronounced.

She gritted her teeth as she focused in on their minds. “Otherwise I’m going to kill you.”

Both of them started laughing, though it did fade after a few seconds as they must have picked up something in her voice that indicated she was serious. The left one raised his pistol and aimed it at her head. “Last chance, girl.”

Enough.

She thrust out her hand and sent a light wave of energy towards them, calling on more power as she took a step forward.  They stumbled back, their eyes wide and faces suddenly contorted in surprise.

Which then turned to fear.

Her skin split open again as she gathered the energy into her palm. Her vision tinted violet and a cocoon of purple mist and energy gathered around her. But she didn’t want to just keep throwing the kid around until she cracked his head. No, she wanted it localized. _Controlled._

She twisted her wrist, directing the energy to manifest right on the thug scrambling to raise his gun. He was suddenly engulfed in swirling purple bands of energy, not doing anything yet, but ready at her command.

She cocked her head as he looked around in terror. Too late for him. She squeezed her fist.

He screamed as the energy tore into him, the streaks cutting, splitting and ripping his skin open. What wasn’t cut bubbled, warped and melted much like her own. Blood began coating his skin and the ground as the energy tore him apart, entering and exiting with the cleanliness, precision and ease of a sharpened knife.

His screaming eventually stopped as the energy ripped through every part of his body, the eyes, mouth, organs, throat, like a bunch of ethereal piranhas devouring and stripping the flesh off their prey. But he still writhed and convulsed on the ground, and she had no plans of stopping until he was dead.

The area around his body was now slick with blood, and she stood there, cocooned in energy, hand extended to the body that was being ripped apart. But it finally stopped moving, even as the energy continued ravaging what little remained. She pursed her lips as she looked at the corpse. No point continuing, her job was done.

She opened her fist and released her hold on the energy and it instantly dissipated. Now, to deal with the other one. In her rage she realized that he’d completely slipped her mind and was somewhat surprised he hadn’t tried shooting her.

She swung her head around to see him stumbling back, hands raised and expression terrified. She cocked her head and began walking over to him. “I surrender! I surrender!” He pleaded frantically. “Please don’t kill me!”

She pursed her lips. No. Maybe not yet, perhaps she could get something out of him. She slowly let the power fade, until her vision was normal and the sounds of the world returned fully to her. “Answer my questions and I might let you live.”

His head bobbed rapidly. “Yes! Yes! Whatever you need.”

She walked over and gingerly picked up the pistol he’d discarded. “Where am I?” She demanded, pacing in front of him. “What city is this?”

“Nagoya,” he answered quickly. “A fairly large city.”

“Really,” she commented skeptically. “Doesn’t seem overly tourist friendly.”

“Not many come down here,” he explained, his eyes darting towards the gun in her hand. “Almost all just stay in the nicer inner city,”

It made sense. A larger city was both good and bad for her. Good in that she would probably be able to find everything she needed, such as an airport or bank. The size would also help if EXALT somehow tracked her here. It was also bad because there would likely be EXALT operatives just on regular business.

“How do I get to the airport?” Annette demanded, eyeing him for any sudden moves. She really didn’t have to bother, she could sense he was too terrified to try anything.

“Follow the sidewalks for a couple miles that way,” he pointed up the street. “You’ll eventually see one of the buses. Just tell them to take you to the airport and they’ll do it. I don’t know the exact location.”

She gritted her teeth. More running, great. “Take out your wallet,” she ordered. “Toss it here.”

With shaking hands, he tossed it over to her which hit the concrete by her feet. “There. Will you let me go?”

She considered that. Despite what she’d done to his friend, this was a little different than self-defense. She _didn’t_ want to kill him, especially since he’d surrendered to her. Not unless he was actively threatening her life. But the fact was that he was too much of a risk to let go.

He could clearly see the conflict on her face. “I won’t tell anyone!” He insisted frantically, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “I promise!  I won’t tell _anyone_.”

She focused in on him. At least to her…she couldn’t fully read his emotions, but he practically screamed terror. She didn’t know how well that equated to truth, but it was an excellent incentive. “You say that now,” she said aloud, not directly to him. “But when I leave? When your terror fades and you believe I can’t find you? Perhaps you’ll have a change of heart.”

His eyes widened. “No! No! I wouldn’t!”

It wasn’t just that possibility that worried her. She was leaving evidence here, evidence EXALT could find. _Someone_ was going to find this body, and she didn’t have the knowledge, time or resources to dispose of it properly. But the sheer manner of death was going to raise questions, and EXALT might likely link it to her.

Once the body was ID’d, then they would try and find all his associates. People who might know what happened. This man had no idea who EXALT was, he had no idea what they’d do to him. Even if he was telling the truth, there was no way he _wouldn’t_ say something to them. He knew he was headed to an airport, he’d given her his wallet and EXALT might be able to track purchases if they found out she had it.

He was too much of a risk to let live.

She flipped the pistol in her hand and grasped the barrel. “I believe you,” she finally said as she offered him the hilt which he took shakily. He began opening his mouth, likely to thank her, but she held up a hand. “But the people who are chasing me will find you,” she continued, focusing her energy on his terrified mind, preventing him from moving. “Then you will tell them everything they want to know, whether you want to or not.”

She shook her head, the man unable to speak as she retained control over his mind. “I can’t take that risk,” her voice hardened. “I also can’t trust people who try to kill me.”

She forced him to place the gun under his throat and had him pull the trigger. The bang seemed unnaturally loud, and the thud the corpse made as it hit the ground was the same. She looked over his body as his blood began leaking onto the ground.

Annette shivered and knelt down and picked up the wallet. Mostly cash, but one credit card. Hopefully it would be enough for a plane ticket, as well as bus fees. Sticking it in her pocket, she stood back up and looked around. The streets were still abandoned, but it was only a matter of time before someone came this way.

She looked at the mutilated corpse she’d torn apart. She could only hope that no one decided to report it until much later. But now she was on a clock. EXALT would be looking for _any_ odd reports, and a shredded corpse along with a man who committed suicide right next to him would _probably_ qualify as _odd_.

She pulled up her hood and began walking up the street, her exhaustion burned away by the adrenaline. She couldn’t wait any longer, no way could she risk sleeping now. Once she was on a plane she could do so, but that wasn’t an option now.

While she walked, Annette thought about how to best move now. Ok, technology was going to be her greatest enemy here. Once they even knew her general area, they could just look up security footage, and from there find out her flight, destination or more. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ she would be tracked, it was a matter of _when_.

Flights to France would be long, and might give them time to set up people to intercept her. So to avoid that…short trips were best. She could leave and go to another airport and repeat as long as she needed. It wasn’t perfect, but at least EXALT would have a little more trouble pinning her down.

Which was why it was imperative she get out of Japan as soon as possible, because if there was a reliable time she could be caught, it would be now. Once she got anywhere else, they’d have a much harder time. China was probably best, the sheer population would help hide her.

Her head snapped up and she groaned as she realized yet _another_ problem. She didn’t have a passport, which was somewhat essential in traveling to different countries. And unlike stealing credit cards from random strangers, she couldn’t just take someone’s passport because they _would_ check for it.

Which meant she’d have to use her abilities, something she wasn’t sure would actually work. But she had little choice here. If she was going to leave, she need to use everything at her disposal.

After walking and running for what felt like hours she finally saw a bus stop, with a bus waiting. With a surge of adrenaline, she charged toward it, waving for the driver to wait. She saw him sigh, but he did wait and she boarded clumsily, but soon righted herself.

“3000 yen,” the driver asked, holding out his hand. She looked in her wallet and found the right amount.

“Here,” she said as she handed it to him. “I need to get to the airport, can you let me know when that stop is?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Might as well get comfortable, it’s a ways back.”

“Thank you,” she told him, then slumped into the nearest seat, avoiding eye contact with the other person on board. She closed her eyes and concentrated, finding the mind of the bus driver with surprising ease.

Even if it was his job, she couldn’t wait for him to go to every stop. Time was of the essence. All it would take was a little suggestion planted in his mind. _Get the girl to the airport, don’t stop for anything. She’ll pay you extra if you get her there fast._

She pressed that mantra on his mind repeatedly as he kept driving, afraid it would fade if she ceased. Time melted away, as she focused on nothing but pushing her will on the driver. She only woke from her trance as the bus slowed to a stop.

She released her hold and looked over as the bus driver looked around wearily, blinking in confusion. “We’re…here, miss,” he said, not seeming to believe it himself. “Airport is right ahead.”

She stood and walked over to him. “Thanks for getting me there fast,” she said sincerely, as she pressed a large amount of cash in his hand. “I won’t forget it.”

“Uh…thanks,” he answered, his voice hollow as he was clearly trying to remember the past hour or so. “Good day.”

“Same to you,” she nodded as she exited the bus. The bustling airport was before her, hundreds of people going in and out. Annette took a breath, well, time to do this. Hopefully EXALT hadn’t found her trail quite yet.

***

_The Bastion, Subject Cells_

Saudia stood over the two corpses of the guards, trying to piece together exactly what had happened. Two analysts were taking data from the bodies, causes of death, and other details that would be important in determining exactly what had happened. Her chief scientist and Ethan stood behind her, waiting for her to speak.

These weren’t the only casualties either, two more soldiers had been found dead up by the hanger, which indicated that Subject Four had likely left on the cargo plane yesterday.

Overall, she was _not_ happy to put it lightly. Bad enough they’d given one of the Furies to the aliens, but now their most powerful subject had managed to escape. Which should have been impossible.

Saudia had an idea of how this had happened, but wanted to see what her chief scientist had to say. She turned around and fixed him with a hard stare. “You’ve had time to look, doctor. I don’t suppose you could explain how Subject Four not only managed to escape a cell _you_ assured me was inescapable, killed her guards and managed to sneak out without any notice?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know for sure, Director, but I believe-“

“I want an _answer_ ,” Saudia interrupted, stepping forward. “Not what you _believe._ ”

“Of course,” he explained hastily, adjusting his glasses. “Based on the circumstances, along with our understanding of psionics, the best explanation of this is that she utilized some form of mind control.”

“You didn’t think to account for that ahead of time?” Ethan demanded incredulously.

“We _still_ don’t know the full extent of psionic abilities,” he defended. “Mind control _was_ a potential possibility, but we couldn’t prove it. It was all theoretical!”

“Enough,” Saudia interrupted, then sighed. Bickering was pointless now and nothing could really be done to fix this here. Subject Four was gone, and they had to focus on finding her and ensure this didn’t happen with the remaining Furies. Punishing her chief scientist, while justified, would not be the best move. He’d made a costly mistake, but was now aware of it.

That being said, she would not be so lenient if this happened again.

“Let me be clear,” she stated, addressing him. “This will not happen again. Take whatever precautions you feel are necessary. Because of your negligence, four soldiers are dead. Do not fail again.”

He nodded emphatically. “I will not, Director.”

She waved him away. “Get to work.”

He scurried off and she walked the opposite direction, Ethan beside her. “You let him off too easy,” Ethan muttered. “Why?”

“Because it was a mistake and not intentional,” she explained calmly. “Despite his failure this time, I don’t think he wanted this. He is now aware of this problem and will take steps to deal with it, and have sufficient motivation to do so. If this happens _again_ , then he will be removed.”

Ethan pursed his lips, but didn’t contest her. “Your call, Director.”

They stepped into the elevator and she pressed the button to the top floor. “We need to focus on reclaiming Subject Four now, before the aliens or XCOM find her.”

“She was clever, I’ll give her that,” Ethan commented, a grudging compliment in his voice. “She took out the cameras, snuck up to the hanger without being seen and stowed away. She’d clearly been planning this for a while.”

“Do we know where that plane was headed?” Saudia asked as the elevator arrived.

“Our base in Japan,” Ethan answered as he consulted his tablet. “Supposedly no one saw anything, but one of the guards walked out into the middle of the unloading and shot himself in the head for seemingly no reason.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “That’s concerning.”

“Yes and no,” Ethan countered. “We just have to be careful about how we approach her. If we can track odd instances like this, eventually she’ll slip up and we’ll be able to track where she’s heading.”

“Has she left the country?” Saudia demanded, thinking hard. It was going to be a lot more difficult if they couldn’t prevent her leaving.

“Unknown,” Ethan answered, pursing his lips. “I’ve alerted our people to converge on the airports, but she could go anywhere, and we can’t watch everything.”

“We don’t need to,” Saudia said. “We can access the security cameras, then run her face through them. She’s no spy and will be seen _somewhere_. I’ll contact Mercado and let him know the situation.”

“Have you read her file?” Ethan asked.

“Yes,” Saudia confirmed.

“We might want to look ahead,” Ethan suggested. “If she does manage to leave, where would she go?”

Saudia nodded, seeing where he was going. “To people she trusts. Her family perhaps,”

“France,” Ethan agreed. “She has a boyfriend as well, I’d suggest we watch everyone she knows in case she tries to contact them.”

“I’ll bring Elizabeth on this as well, then,” Saudia added. “France is her jurisdiction. She might also make it easy for us and go directly to the police. Our job would be much easier then.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Ethan muttered. “This girl isn’t an idiot. But again, we’ll have to be careful how we ultimately take her down. I can guarantee she’ll die before being taken in alive, so any uses of force will only provoke her.”

“Not to mention she can control minds,” Saudia said. “That’s going to make it easy for her to get out of any issues with the airports or police.”

“Not indefinitely,” Ethan corrected. “We may not know the full extent of her powers, but she can’t use them forever. But I think our best bet is to start watching her friends and family.”

“Sounds good,” Saudia agreed as they walked into the Control Center. “We can’t afford many more delays. Too much is at stake.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ethan nodded. “We’ll bring her back soon.”

Saudia pulled up a map of Japan on the holotable. “Then let’s get started.”

 

 

 

 


	22. A Wave of Red

 

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

If there was one element of XCOM that Herman could find absolutely no fault with, it was without a doubt the food. Whatever faults the Commander had, he had to commend him for actually getting an actual cook. Sure, it wasn’t the _best_ food he’d ever had in his life, but compared to traditional military food, it was excellent.

As he walked inside though, he was initially surprised at the number of soldiers seated, in their own groups, discussing amongst themselves in quieter tones. Herman frowned, true, it wasn’t a _large_ amount of soldiers, but he generally came at less busy times to avoid causing issues.

The atmosphere also felt more somber, and Herman suddenly got the distinct impression that he’s accidentally stumbled into an unofficial memorial ceremony. His eyes scanned the tables and he blinked as he saw Van Doorn sitting alone, a cup filled with a dark liquid inside it.

Hmm. Peter wasn’t a stranger to alcohol, but he reserved it for very specific instances, usually after a major achievement or victory. Or in remembrance of someone, and judging from the general mood, he suspected it was the latter. Something had clearly happened, and he suspected it was probably a mission gone wrong.

Abandoning his current plan for dinner, he walked over to where Van Doorn was sitting. The General noticed him approaching and nodded in greeting. “Hey,” he said neutrally as Herman sat down beside him. “How are you doing?”

Herman raised an eyebrow and indicated the drink with his eyes. “I think I should really ask _you_ that.”

Van Doorn sighed and looked ahead. “Just…reminiscing. Taking a short break,” he paused and then continued after a couple seconds. “Friendly’s dead.”

“Ah,” Herman understood now; then no wonder Van Doorn was taking it a little worse than normal. He’d only met Friendly a few times, but he’d seemed a good man, and had served with Van Doorn for…well, a long time. “I’m sorry,” he finished, inclining his head.

“Appreciated,” Van Doorn acknowledged. “It’s just…well, I always thought that it would be…different. If one of us was to die, I’d always thought it would be both of us, or at least that I’d be there when it happened. Not…” he paused. “Just watching it happen on a screen.”

He could understand that. “I know,” Herman agreed. “But that’s just one of the realities of being in command. We can’t always be on the front lines.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Van Doorn muttered. “I guess I just don’t have a very high opinion of that strategy at the moment, even if I do understand its importance.”

Herman nodded and decided to let that subject drop. It was neither the time nor place to have this debate, especially since Van Doorn wasn’t thinking as objectively and both of them knew it. “So what happened?” He asked.

Van Doorn took a sip. “We detected a UFO, a large one. As usual, we prepared to send out a skyranger and this time sent Myra along as well. We all thought that would be enough to storm the UFO, or at best would be overkill,” he sighed.

“But no, the aliens were prepared for us and had a small army waiting. The squad was eventually overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and once Friendly died, the squad overseer made the wise decision to pull out. They made it and killed a bunch of aliens, but some were injured and the MEC was severely damaged.”

Herman pursed his lips. As much as he hated to think it, he was surprised that the outcome hadn’t been worse. If they’d only lost Friendly, it was much better than it could have been. But this did seem to highlight an issue he’d noticed during his own inspection of XCOM’s military forces.

From what he knew, been told, and figured out for himself, XCOM was primarily designed as a strike force, dealing a lethal amount of damage over a short period of time against small groups. Perfect for the smaller UFO’s and even larger ones if XCOM could dictated the engagements.

But their greatest weaknesses was that they were not an army. They couldn’t hold out in sustained battles, because once the aliens held against the initial engagement, they could call for reinforcements and overwhelm XCOM. As the defeat to EXALT had showed, it didn’t matter how advanced they were, their limited numbers would always work against them.

Now against an enemy that was as, or more advanced, than them? It would almost never turn out in XCOM’s favor. Now that the aliens knew for sure they could exploit that weakness, he could only see similar missions in the future unless XCOM began the transition for a strike force into…well, an army was not feasible, but at least invested in equipment and tech that would allow them to survive prolonged engagements.

The MEC was an excellent step towards this, but even that wouldn’t save XCOM if they were faced with overwhelming odds, as the previous mission had clearly shown. He felt he should say something, but it, simply put, wasn’t his place, and he wasn’t sure how the Commander would take actual military suggestion. It might be better if it came from Van Doorn.

“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?” He asked. “ _Not_ as a representative, but as someone with military experience?”

Van Doorn snorted. “Herman, you’re a Major General. You don’t need to ask that even if you weren’t someone with that rank.”

“Right,” Herman cleared his throat. “I think that this highlights a weakness within XCOM. Your squads aren’t designed for prolonged combat, but instead engagements with only a few enemies that are eliminated quickly. In these instances, XCOM succeeds with flying colors, but if the aliens or EXALT manage to survive the initial attack, then they just call for reinforcements and quickly overwhelm XCOM.”

Herman paused for a second. “XCOM doesn’t have the firepower or soldiers to survive large groups, and with every soldier killed, only exarcerbates the problem. If just one or two soldiers are taken out or killed, then that pretty much dooms the entire mission.”

Van Doorn appraised him with surprise. “You’ve thought about this.”

“I just looked at the footage,” Herman shrugged. “In every instance XCOM has been forced to retreat, they’ve always been outnumbered, outgunned and the engagements were usually longer than usual.”

“You make a good point,” Van Doorn nodded. “So do you have a solution?”

Herman hesitated. “I’m not sure what the Commander is planning for XCOM, but if he wants to turn it into an army against the aliens, he needs to invest in tech for longer battles. Portable turrets, deployable cover, vehicles, equipment that would make up for the soldier deficit. Which should also be fixed; more soldiers are going to be needed if XCOM ever wants to stand on even ground with the larger alien forces, because I don’t think they’re going to forget about this.”

“Hmm,” Van Doorn took another sip. “I agree. The MEC is a formidable force, but it _can_ only do so much. But we are looking to increase the soldiers deployed, along with some other advances that level the playing field. You should really talk to the Commander about this.”

“It would probably be better coming from you,” Herman shook his head. “I doubt the Commander would want me to be making suggestions like these, and he would be right, it’s not my place.”

“Nonsense,” Van Doorn snorted in disbelief. “He might not like why you’re here, but if you have a legitimate suggestion for him, he _will_ take it into consideration. This one you have now is definitely that.”

Hmm. Now that he thought about it some, he had to somewhat agree. The Commander didn’t seem like one to reject a decent idea over something as petty as because he disliked him. If he _didn’t_ like it, it was either because it was a bad idea or the Commander had come up with a better one.

“Still,” Herman said. “It would probably be better if it was brought up by you.”

“Perhaps,” Van Doorn conceded. “But I am not taking credit for your idea. Do you have some idea for what we could do?”

Herman looked up, then nodded. “Yes, I have some ideas.”

Van Doorn gave a grim smile. “Good. If you want, I’d like you to work with Engineering to see if you could begin implementing them. If you want that, of course.”

Herman blinked. Well, _that_ was unexpected, at best he’d expected Van Doorn to just bring it up with the Commander. But if he could actually _work_ on it…he was getting cautiously excited about the prospect of actually _doing_ something. “I’d definitely want to work on it,” he agreed with a quick nod. “Are you sure it won’t cause problems?”

“I’m sure,” Van Doorn assured him. “If someone does have questions, then you can direct them to me. You might be a little more supervised than others, but they won’t interfere.”

Herman smiled. “It’ll be nice to be doing something productive. Thanks, Peter.”

Now Van Doorn gave a genuine smile. “Don’t mention it. If this will help keep our soldiers safe and kill more aliens, I’m happy to support it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Herman promised.

“Good,” Van Doorn stated firmly. “Because I will avenge Friendly’s death, one way or another.”

***

_Scotland, Cerian’s Residence_

Cerian stood in front of the room containing their temporary guest. The man had been utterly silent during his moments of consciousness, but he wasn’t interested in asking questions until they were in a more appropriate setting. However, before that could be done, he wanted Patrick here.

Not only would it keep the Council happy, but it was the right thing to do. They had a right to be up to speed on all the latest developments, and this was a situation that warranted some kind of presence. Luckily Patrick had responded quickly and had arrived a short while ago and now stood beside him.

“Has he said anything?” Patrick asked as he looked through the one-way glass.

“No,” Cerian answered. “But then again, I haven’t asked him anything yet. I wanted to wait until the Council was fully appraised of the situation.”

Patrick gave him a brief nod. “Something that the Council, and I, appreciate.” Now Patrick turned to face him. “I also assume that you actually have some evidence that this man is actually an XCOM operative and we haven’t abducted a perfectly normal Israeli soldier?”

Cerian smirked and motioned for Mary to hand him a tablet. “Please, Patrick. I’m a professional,” he said as he tapped the screen. “I can assure you I wouldn’t have taken him prisoner if I wasn’t absolutely sure.” Once he’d found the images he needed, he handed the tablet to Patrick.

“We spotted known XCOM personnel Abigail Gertrude and Ruth Shira enter the premises illegally,” he began as Patrick flipped through the images. “We followed them to a building where our man had entered a short while earlier. They went in for a few minutes and then emerged wearing the new Israeli prototype armor.”

“Do you know who he is?” Patrick asked, looked up.

“According to his file, he is Eldad Levi,” Cerian answered. “Oddly enough, his profile does check out pretty well. However, Mary has assured me that file creation this genuine is possible, just difficult. Considering his contact with XCOM, I’m fairly certain that this is not his real name.”

“Makes sense,” Patrick muttered, then looked up and handed the tablet back to Cerian. “Well done, the Council will be extremely pleased with this.”

Cerian hesitated. He wasn’t sure he really should say anything here, but he’d feel he wasn’t doing his job if he just dropped it. “May I ask what the Council is planning to do with this?”

“I would imagine they will demand an explanation for this,” Patrick answered, his voice deliberately neutral, which his expressionless face reflected well. “How they go about it, I don’t know.”

Which was _exactly_ what he was afraid of. “May I offer a suggestion?” He asked.

Patrick cocked his head. “You were the one who got us this, I will convey any suggestion to the Council.”

“Thank you,” Cerian answered, relieved. “In that case, I would suggest that the Council think very carefully before using anything I’ve recovered. I know that the Council will want to reveal this, but I think we should consider the circumstances of why XCOM was here in the first place. Namely, why are they investigating Israel?”

“Maybe they’re concerned?” Patrick suggested.

“Exactly,” Cerian agreed. “We now know that Israel is preparing for something, and whatever it is, XCOM is concerned about it. Which the Commander may actually use if this evidence is brought before him, and a reason why the Council should refrain from using this against him now.”

Patrick frowned. “Explain.”

“Israel is not going to listen to the United Nations,” Cerian stated bluntly. “And short of using NATO, they will not do anything if Israel attacks a nearby country. They have no hold over them, there is only one entity that holds _some_ kind of influence over Nowinski.”

Patrick got it. “XCOM.”

“XCOM,” Cerian repeated. “If you present this evidence to Israel with the intention of breaking their alliance, it will likely work, but the result is that you remove the only chance for XCOM to talk Israel out of doing something catastrophic.”

Cerian took a breath. “But the bigger concern here is that by showing this, the Council will effectively be declaring war on the Commander, justified or not. If they release this, he’ll _know_ that the Council is spying on his operations, and then he won’t just be your unofficial enemy, he _will_ be your enemy.”

Patrick’s lips twitched as he followed along. Cerian continued. “What’s worse is that the Commander could justify this is a number of completely plausible ways, which you will _not_ be able to disprove unless our guest talks. He could simply say that they were conducting an exercise with Israel, or that they were in some kind of talks. It doesn’t matter, since we can’t prove intent. Best case that comes out of this is that the Council looks like fools, worst they make an enemy out of the Commander, and by extension, XCOM.”

Patrick took a breath. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this,” he commented wryly. “The Council needs to hear this.”

“Going back to Israel,” Cerian added. “Even if the Council decides it worth risking an unchecked Israel, it will likely have the same effect as showing him the evidence itself. Because if you submit it anonymously, the Commander can state the images as fake. If you submit it officially, you’re essentially telling him who was behind the leak; the Council.”

“So what you’re saying is that we shouldn’t use this.” Patrick stated.

Cerian thought about it for a few seconds. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Patrick let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Council is not going to like that.”

“No,” Cerian agreed. “They won’t. But I would suggest that you keep this and include in your final case against the Commander.”

“In addition to all those points you mention, you failed to discount others within the Council itself,” Patrick added grimly. “This might also have the effect of splitting the Council permanently, since the pro-Commander bloc will use this as evidence of the Commander thinking about the safety of the world by keeping tabs on Israel.”

“And since Israel isn’t exactly popular with the UN, it might sway the moderates over to that side,” Cerian finished.

“Exactly,” Patrick confirmed, resignation in his eyes. “So unless Eldad here talks, we’re left with a final play that might not work.”

“Well, a benefit is that my team will still be able to operate fairly openly,” Cerian reminded him. “I’m fairly certain XCOM has no idea we’re watching them, and should the Council remain silent, they will likely assume Eldad was taken by either the aliens or EXALT.”

Patrick looked back over into the room. “Yes, I suppose that is the silver lining. So I assume you have a plan for him?”

“I’ll see if I can entice him with the threat of turning him over to the Israelis,” Cerian said, eyeing the man. “Failing that, I might just resort to reason. Sadly, I doubt we’ll get much out of him. Agents like him are stubborn.”

“Well, I guess we should get this over with,” Patrick sighed and reached for the door.

“Wait,” Cerian interrupted. “I want to speak to him before you go in. I’d prefer he not know the Council is involved yet.”

Patrick stepped back and motioned towards the door. “You’re the expert here. I’ll watch and record.”

Cerian opened the door and stepped into the small room. Eldad was securely tied to the chair, his eyes closed, though Cerian doubted he was actually asleep. Sure enough, once he sat down across from him, Eldad opened his eyes and glared at him suspiciously.

“Eldad Levi,” he greeted. “I trust my medic patched you up alright?”

Eldad gave the ghost of a smile. “He didn’t do a bad job,” he answered, his Israeli accent pronounced. “Tell him thanks.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cerian nodded. “I did my best not to hit anything vital.”

Eldad’s eyes narrowed. “ _You_ shot me?”

Cerian smirked. “I should be hurt by that, but I will admit it is unusual. Suffice to say I’ve been doing this kind of work a lot longer than you.”

“If that was the case you should have just killed me,” Eldad stated calmly. “You know the standard speech. I’m not telling you anything.”

“Right, and since we both know the standard response I’ll get right to the point,” Cerian answered, lacing his fingers together and placing his arms on the table. “We have photo evidence of you meeting with confirmed XCOM operatives for reasons unknown. Should IDF command acquire these, I’d imagine your punishment wouldn’t be pleasant. That is in addition to charging you with espionage against a sovereign country. At the very least you’re looking at life in prison.”

Cerian paused. “Or you could cooperate with us, answer a few simple questions and we can work from there.”

Eldad eyed him suspiciously. “Is that right? You are aware that evidence can be doctored, correct? You cannot prove intent, regardless of whatever ‘evidence’ you have.”

“I cannot prove intent, true,” Cerian conceded as he placed a file on the table, showing the images of him, the XCOM agents, and their meeting place. “But you entered a building during your shift carrying two cases of something, and a few minutes later, XCOM agents Abigail Gertrude and Ruth Shira entered that same building. A few minutes later they emerged wearing the Israeli armor,” Eldad’s face had dropped its amused look, as he realized he was dealing with an actual professional. Cerian continued.

“We followed these agents to the Israeli central command, and while we don’t know what they took, if anything, I doubt that the IDF would like knowing that XCOM now likely knows what they are doing.” Cerian looked Eldad in the eye. “So go ahead and tell me that you would not be prosecuted if you were turned over to Israel.”

Eldad was silent for a few moments, then pursed his lips. “They might, but I suppose all I could do is wait to see what their verdict is.”

It wasn’t an unexpected response, though Cerian was still disappointed. “Then you couldn’t tell me what XCOM was doing there?”

“You see, that would imply that _I_ am affiliated with them,” Eldad pointed out. “I can certainly _speculate_ , but it would be the thoughts of an unimportant soldier.”

Cerian leaned back in his chair. “Then go ahead.”

“You were there,” Eldad noted, the corners of his lips twitching. “A technologically advanced Israel might be a cause for concern for some parties, especially those concerned with global stability.”

“I can see that very much so,” Cerian nodded. “So, as a soldier in the IDF, do you know what they are planning?”

“No,” Eldad stated firmly. “I do not.”

Cerian appraised the calm man before him. He was inclined to believe the spy was telling the truth in this case, otherwise the XCOM agents would have left immediately after meeting him, unless of course he _knew_ what was going on, but didn’t have _evidence_ , which was what XCOM would really be after.

“Who are you?” Eldad interrupted. “I’d at least like to know that much.”

“My name isn’t important,” Cerian answered, to an exasperated sigh. “But I lead a neutral party intent on ensuring global stability, and as of this moment, the Commander of XCOM is a potential issue to that stability.”

Eldad snorted. “Right. I don’t know where you got this information, but from what _little_ I know, the Commander of XCOM is _not_ the problem. You’re after the wrong guy, not that I’d know much about that, of course.”

“Right,” Cerian answered sarcastically. “Well, then I’ll just drop everything just because a self-proclaimed _soldier_ said so. But in all seriousness, I believe you’re unaware of the Commander’s true identity.”

“And I’m certain you’re going to enlighten me,” Eldad commented dryly.

Cerian smiled. “It might help explain my position some. You are aware of the so-called “Commander” from the War on Terror, yes?”

Eldad nodded. “Yes.”

“He and the Commander of XCOM are the same person.”

Eldad blinked several times, the clearest betrayal of surprise Cerian had seen yet. His eyes were filled with confusion for a few seconds as he spoke. “What?”

“You heard me,” Cerian said. “And if you want proof, then I’ll introduce you to someone you may or may not know.” He went to the door and opened it, gesturing Patrick inside. Eldad’s mouth parted slightly once he saw the United Nations Liaison walk into the room. He knew who this was alright.

“Patrick Rush,” Patrick introduced with a smile. “United Nations Liaison to the Council.”

“Despite what you were likely told, there are reasons for certain councilors to be worried about XCOM,” Cerian continued as he sat down again. “For obvious reasons, his identity had to be kept secret, but that is the major reason why we are keeping an eye on XCOM.”

Eldad finally seemed to compose himself. “And you think this will get me to admit to something? Telling me that the man in charge of everything is the one who won the War on Terror? Is that supposed to _compel_ me to say something? Because I can tell you that Israel has a _much_ more favorable opinion on the Commander than the rest of the world,”

His words were growing angrier as he continued speaking. “We are under an _alien invasion_ , and yet not only is your Council attempting to impede the greatest force stopping them, but are actively _working_ against them! You had the gall to _capture_ me on the _assumption_ that I was with them. I’ll state _again_ for the record that I am _not_ , but I certainly know _actual_ threats you should be focusing on instead of the only ones who are actually _doing_ something!”

Well, that was what he’d been afraid of. The Commander’s identity was going to be less impactful than he or the Council had hoped. True, Eldad was Israeli, and that might have colored him before working with XCOM, but he suspected that the soldiers might not care as much either because he _was_ admittedly working to destroy the aliens.

He held up a hand to placate Eldad. “I suppose you are referring to EXALT? Or the aliens themselves? Yes, we are well aware of those threats. We know about Solaris Industries, and that is going to be investigated. I do not want to see XCOM fall, but I would also prefer it not be abused at the hands of a proven war criminal. Even if you disagree, you must admit some concern in warranted.”

Eldad pursed his lips as he glared at them unflinchingly. “You know nothing. Your rationalization is based on propaganda and UN lies. XCOM is not a threat to the world, even I can see that. EXALT, the aliens, _those_ are the ones who will destroy the world,” he paused for a second. “If I were you, I’d follow the Solaris lead, you might learn something.”

Cerian fixed him with a hard stare. Those words had a finality to them, and he didn’t feel like he was going to get much more. One last chance. “You understand that by refusing to cooperate, you will likely be spending the rest of your life in a cell?”

Eldad met his stare. “There are worse fates.”

Cerian gave him a short nod. “I understand.”

He did. Were he in the same position it was unlikely that he’d be convinced either. It was frustrating to deal with, but he could understand why it was. But he’d done all he could and saw no reason to prolong it further.

With that he turned and exited the room, Patrick behind him. Once the door was closed Patrick let out a long sigh. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

“Not entirely,” Cerian corrected. “He did sort of direct us toward Solaris Industries, and that might mean that XCOM is also looking to begin operations there. If so, I’ll likely run into them.”

“Well, we don’t have any more XCOM incidents,” Patrick agreed. “I suppose you and your team should pack for the States. Transport will be prepared.”

Cerian smiled and inclined his head towards Patrick. “Appreciated. I’m very interested to see what they’re hiding.”

“What do you suggest we do with him?” Patrick asked, nodding towards Eldad.

Cerian glanced over and shrugged. “He refused to cooperate and I have no reason to be lenient. Do what you will, but remember what I said.”

Patrick nodded gravely. “I will take everything to the Council.”

“Good,” Cerian answered as he began walking away. “Good luck with that. Now I need to prepare to investigate one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the world.”

***

_Armenia, Yerevan_

It had taken Bradford and Van Doorn some time to actually set up meetings with Armenia and Ukraine, but they’d done it and now he was finally going to confirm their alliance with XCOM. Escorted by four Armenian soldiers, the Commander walked towards the Government House, though entering through a means other than through the front door.

The number of people who knew he was actually here was extremely limited, President Arsen Levon and his defense minister and chief were the only governmental officials who knew, and only the Internal Council  for XCOM. He didn’t intend to publicize any alliance, but he didn’t have an issue if Armenia decided to announce it.

Still, he would prefer few knew about it until it was confirmed one way or another. In the meantime, he was enjoying his short stroll through the city itself. The Commander hadn’t really known what to expect for Yerevan, but it was unquestionably much larger and industrialized than he’d expected.

There were also some impressive buildings, parks and architecture that he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure if they’d taken him on the scenic route, but he wasn’t complaining. He did have to wonder how Russia was going to work through them once an alliance was established. They’d assured him not to worry about the details, but he was curious nonetheless.

They reached a door in the side of the Government House and one of the soldiers opened it up and motioned him inside. The hallway the greeted him wasn’t that unusual for state buildings, glossy marble floors, high ceilings and overly ornate furniture dotted the hallway. Chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting a soft white light everywhere.

“This way,” one of the soldiers told him, motioning down the left. The Commander nodded and began walking that way. Their boots clacked on the floor, sounding unnaturally loud as they proceeded. He wasn’t sure if the emptiness was normal or if it had been cleared out ahead of time. He wouldn’t be that surprised either way.

After a series of turns and a couple flights of stairs, they finally stopped in front of an unmarked door. “The President awaits,” one soldier told him stepping aside. “Enter.”

The Commander nodded. “Your escort is appreciated,” he thanked. That said, he opened the door and walked inside.

It was definitely not the Kremlin. It was certainly not the official office of the President, since that would likely contain some additional furniture as well as a few details such as paraphernalia or bookshelves. As it was now, the walls were bare though painted a neutral brown. The room was well maintained and lit, but surprisingly empty, with only a large table with several chairs in the room.

The President himself was leaning against the wall, reading something from a tablet. Upon hearing the door open, he immediately looked up and set the tablet on the table. Despite being almost seventy, the man still looked the part of a President, his face showing few wrinkles and his silver hair still robust. But what did catch the Commander’s attention was the hardened glint in his eye.

“Commander,” he greeted as he walked over to extend a hand which the Commander took. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You as well, Mr. President,” the Commander returned, with an inclination of his head. “Your city is impressive.”

“That it is,” Arsen agreed, with a slight smile. “It might not compare to the cities in the United States, but I am glad you appreciate it for what it is.”

“Your country has done well,” the Commander complimented. “Especially considering recent history.”

Arwen gave a short nod at that. “I tend to think so, but neither of us are here today to discuss my country’s history.”

“Agreed,” the Commander stated, getting down to business. “I presume that you’ve received everything Central sent over to you?”

“I did,” Arsen confirmed slowly. “I must admit, I was surprised to receive the call in the first place. Armenia is a great country, but I am under no illusions as to its importance on the global stage. To hear from the Commander of XCOM himself was surprising, especially since there are other, larger, nations who could also help you.”

“There are,” the Commander admitted. “But I see no reason to exclude Armenia simply because of its size. This invasion concerns the entire human race, and I think it would be foolish to ignore allies, wherever they may be.”

“An intelligent outlook,” Arsen complimented. “Though I’m not sure how much we can provide for XCOM. I assume you are also allied with the larger countries, correct? If so I must warn you that it will likely not match the likes of China or the United States.”

“Funding doesn’t have to be purely monetary,” the Commander said. “You have soldiers, natural resources, scientists and engineers. Those are arguably just as, if not more, valuable. But my ulterior motive beyond the invasion itself ultimately benefits you. Tell me, what now represents the greatest threat to the world today?”

“The aliens, no doubt.” Arsen stated immediately, interest in his eyes as he appraised the Commander.

Exactly the answer he wanted. “Correct. Unfortunately, there are certain countries who are not ready to drop the grudges and conflicts of the past. It’s a reason I’ve refrained from sending advanced technology over to the superpowers of the world. Too many would see an opportunity to settle old scores. I think we can both agree this benefits no one.”

“Correct,” Arsen nodded. “But perhaps you can explain how this pertains to me and my country?”

“Simple,” the Commander smiled. “The aliens haven’t begun a conquest. Not yet, but it _will_ be coming and when it does, there will need to be countries ready to defend. I believe Armenia had the soldiers, equipment and responsibility to be one of those countries, one that won’t just defend humanity when the time comes, but one that will also serve as a check to more ambitious countries in this chaotic time.”

Arsen looked away, resting his chin on his hand, clearly thinking hard. “I’m flattered,” he finally said after a few minutes. “But perhaps you overestimate our capabilities if you would think we can serve as an effective check on the major powers of the world. Russia in particular might feel threatened.”

The Commander gave a small smile, since the exact opposite would be true. “You will have nothing to fear from another country, because this alliance isn’t just an exchange of resources and money. Should another country decide to step in, you will receive military support from XCOM.”

He blinked at that. “Truly? Correct me I am wrong, but I was under the impression that you were under the United Nations, stated publically or not.”

“Officially, yes,” the Commander admitted. “But their relationship with XCOM is less…influential than they would like to believe. I don’t answer to the United Nations, and am not bound by their rules and regulations.”

“Risky,” Arsen commented. “But I must admit I’m impressed. Few non-superpowers will not submit to their directives.”

“The United Nations does not have the personnel, funding, motive or cohesion to function as it’s supposed to,” the Commander stated. “They are a toothless entity, which should ultimately concern neither of us.”

“I agree,” Arsen nodded, now openly smiling. “I think this alliance will be beneficial for both of us.”

“As do I,” the Commander agreed. “In that case, I suppose we should begin working out details.”

The President motioned to the table. “Then let’s begin, Commander.”

***

_Ukraine_

Well, the Ukrainian government had planned a _much_ different reception than the Armenians. Once he’d been dropped off by Big Sky, they’d waited with a noticeable military escort. He’d been escorted into an armored car with no windows or outside communication. He could feel the car turning left, right, and left again, and was fairly certain they’d gone in a big circle at one point just to throw him off in case he was somehow memorizing this.

At the moment, he felt no need to. Israel had done it and he wasn’t concerned the Ukrainians were going to abduct or kill him. Realistically, they were likely paranoid and secretive, especially when it involved the Commander of the XCOM project. If he had to guess a location, he suspected they were within, or outside Ukraine’s capital, Kiev.

At least the long ride did give him some time to reflect. The meeting with Armenia had gone better than he could have hoped, they would fully support XCOM in a number of ways, which would also help cut back on maintenance costs, allowing funds to be diverted elsewhere. President Arsen had also promised to send Armenia’s very best scientists and engineers to XCOM, which both Vahlen and Shen would be thrilled by.

Well, he’d done his part and had gained a very useful ally in the process. Now it was up to Russia to actually work…however they decided. Once Ukraine was on board as well, that would be enough for Russia to work with. One more country would be better, but this was enough to get them started.

The past week or so in XCOM hadn’t exactly been quiet either, well, aside from the alien abduction, but it was a smaller encounter, without much alien presence to begin with. Shen and his team were hard at work and Shen had assured him that they’d have some major developments in the next day or so.

Vahlen was also preparing to show him something, and he had a decent idea as to what that was. Hopefully she’d managed to overcome the kinks in the genetic modification program so they could begin investing in their soldiers. He really should do something for her as well. In fact, all of them had been working almost non-stop for…well, a long time.

But aside from the abduction, the aliens had been rather quiet as predicted. But the Commander knew it was only a matter of time before they struck again, or EXALT for that matter. EXALT had also been suspiciously quiet, but Zhang told him it was expected. They were likely trying to focus on stopping XCOM Intelligence for the moment.

Well, actually, EXALT _hadn’t_ been completely quiet. Soon after the Israeli op, one of Zhang’s people had suddenly disappeared. Since the Israelis clearly didn’t know where he was, the only other possibilities were EXALT or the aliens, with the former being the most likely suspect.

Zhang has assured him that EXALT wouldn’t get anything from him, but was very…irritated at the loss of such a useful informant. Not angry, since it was a reality of intelligence work, but it was extremely inconvenient. Though the Commander did find it a bit odd that he’d been taken right _after_ uncovering some of the most damning documents in recent memory.

And boy, what interesting reading _that_ had been. Pretty much all of Zhang’s team had spent the past week translating the Israeli documents. _Advent_. How symbolic and fitting. He had to give Nowinski credit, the man had ambition and a plan, and should events go his way, he would take full advantage.

Now…what to do with this information was still up for discussion. He could go directly to Nowinski and shut down his ambitions immediately, or wait to see how events played out. _Right now_ there wasn’t a threat of Israeli attacks, since it had been made very clear in the recovered documents that Operations Advent would only begin under a very strict set of circumstances.

Quite honestly, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the unification of the Middle East. The problem was that since Israel lacked the manpower to effectively capture the various countries, they’d be forced to use more damaging methods. Water, power, assassination, poisoning of food, nothing was off the table, mostly because they had no choice.

Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with that, especially in a war. But the problem was that he did believe Israel genuinely _did_ want to unite the Middle East under one banner, flag, or nation. But with the methods currently in place, they’d not be looked upon as unifiers, but the warmongering conquerors the world claimed they were.

Which would eventually lead to civil unrest, mutiny, starvation, most of which would be Israel’s own fault. Best case was that they somehow managed to hold together a coalition of hostile countries using any mean necessary. Worst case was that they lost control and the Middle East returned to a warzone as the newly freed nations fought over for control of the land.

All in the middle of an _alien invasion_.

He did like the name though. _Advent_. A new beginning, should everything go perfectly.

Unfortunately, it rarely did.

The car stopped abruptly and the Commander looked toward the door. About time. He blinked as the door opened and bright sunlight poured into the car. Pushing himself off the seat, he stepped out onto the worn pavement. Once his eyes adjusted a few seconds later, he was somewhat surprised to see he wasn’t anywhere near a city.

He appeared to be on some kind of military base, judging from the walled perimeter, patrolling soldiers and assortment of planes and tanks parked around the area. In the rough center was a large concrete square with windows alongside what he assumed were the multiple floors.

“Follow us,” one of the soldiers ordered in a thick accent. Two soldiers behind him, the Commander followed him into the building which was surprisingly straightforward. They just took an elevator to the third floor and began walking left. Unlike the Government House in Armenia, this place was definitely busy, with officer and soldiers walking through the hallways.

They finally stopped in front of a room marked with Ukrainian writing, which he couldn’t pronounce. But he suspected the President of Ukraine was waiting inside. How many presidents was this now? Three? Four? Enough that he wished that they’d change it up a bit.

The soldier motioned toward the door and he opened it to reveal some sort of planning room. A TV hung up on the far wall, and a large ornate table was in the middle of the room, behind it were several file cabinets. A projector hung from the ceiling and a trio of flags were also displayed in the middle of the room by the wall, the Ukrainian flag and two others he assumed displayed the symbol of some branch of government.

Damian Taras, President of Ukraine stood looking out a window. Again contrasting his visit to Armenia, Darian was much younger. In fact he was only a year younger than the Commander himself, which was unusually young for politicians holding his position. He immediately turned and regarded the Commander with his one good eye.

The patch covering up the empty socket didn’t quite hide the scars around it. The Commander knew he’d formerly been a soldier, and then turned towards politics after losing his eye in an IED explosion. From the profile he’d been given, he’d developed some respect for him, even if he wasn’t as familiar with his policies.

But politics weren’t the sole reason for his visit, and he was glad to have a military conversation with someone experience. “Commander,” Damian greeted, opting to salute instead of shake his hand, which he was somewhat surprised by. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The Commander returned the salute with his own. “You as well, Mr. President.”

“Drop the titles for the moment,” Damian shook his head with a grim smile. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re of equal rank, you maybe more so.”

“I’m flattered,” the Commander responded, and he was. Rare was the politician that acknowledged they were more or less on equal ground. Probably influenced by his military background.

“Don’t mention it,” Damian waved off. “I will admit I was skeptical when your Central Officer contacted us, but I was glad to see it was genuine.”

“You certainly do have an elaborate way of getting me here,” the Commander noted. “A precaution, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Damian confirmed. “While the amount of people who know we are speaking is admittedly small, I didn’t want to take chances with your safety. I would also prefer that the exact position of this base remain secret, at least for the moment.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

Damian gave a toothless smile. “ _That_ is part of the reason an alliance would be beneficial for both of us.” He picked up a remote on the table and turned on the TV. Four screens appeared, each one a camera to a cell with a thin man inhabitant. All the aliens were different in facial structure, hair and eye color, but all retained the unusual thinness and reptilian eyes.

Well, this was certainly interesting. “You captured them,” the Commander acknowledged. “I’m impressed.”

“Unfortunately, we can do little more short of killing them,” Damian admitted, his face tightening. “We aren’t sure what sedatives we can give without killing them, and I’ve almost lost several scientists just trying to examine them. Attempts to communicate have failed, despite extensive prompting.”

“We’re familiar with the species,” the Commander told him. “I could send you our notes.”

“Appreciated, but that’s not why I bring this up,” Damian answered with an appreciative nod. “We don’t have the facilities or equipment to house aliens, and unless I demand funds from parliament for alien holding facilities, that won’t happen for some time. In the meantime, there will likely soon be an incident where someone gets killed. You have the means to hold these aliens, I do not.”

“We would certainly appreciate it,” the Commander agreed. “You’ll be compensated in addition to what is already included.”

“Unneeded,” Damian dismissed. “Consider it a strategic use of resources. You’ll be doing a lot more with them than we can. All I want from this is their tech so we can root out these aliens within my country,” he pursed his lips. “There are more out there, and I want to find every last one.”

“A worthy goal,” the Commander agreed. “But this is only the beginning. The aliens won’t hide behind doppelgangers forever, and when the time comes you’ll need to be ready to defend your country. XCOM cannot be everywhere, much as I wish it were otherwise.”

“Well, that is why you’re supplying us with alien tech, yes?” Damian noted wryly. “I will ensure XCOM receives sufficient funding and soldiers in return, along with any aliens we capture.”

“A fair deal,” the Commander agreed. “We’ll need to finalize some details, but otherwise I believe that covers everything important.”

“Essentially,” Damian agreed. “But I sincerely do appreciate you making this offer in the first place. It’s a pleasant change to be recognized for a reason other than that we border Russia. Otherwise we’re more or less ignored.”

“A mistake,” the Commander stated. “The world is comprised of more than just the UK, United States, China and Russia. Perhaps someday the United Nations will realize that.”

Damian snorted. “Considering those countries hold the power there, I highly doubt it.”

“For now,” the Commander responded evenly. “But the world will change after this war, and when the lesser known nations emerge as the vanguards of humanity, they will be forced to acknowledge it.”

“You have an optimistic view of the future,” Damien commented wryly, shooting him a small smile. “Judging by human history, very little will change.”

The Commander just smiled. Were he not in a position to do something about it, he would likely agree. But he was, and by his actions or no, the world would change one way or another when all was said and done.

***

_The Citadel, Hanger_

The Commander descended down the ramp into the mostly empty hanger, feeling pretty good about where they stood. Armenia and Ukraine were firmly allied with them, and Russia could begin working through them to acquire alien tech, further increasing their unofficial alliance.

To his surprise, Bradford was waiting at the far end. Huh, he wondered if something had happened since he’d expected all of them to be continuing on as usual, since this trip wasn’t unexpected. He saluted as the Commander approached. “Commander. I assume your visits were productive?”

“Very much so,” the Commander agreed as they both walked out of the hanger. “Both countries will make good allies, and Russia will have the openings they need. Anything happened here?”

Bradford pursed his lips and the Commander immediately had a bad feeling. “We do have a situation,” Bradford answered slowly. “A video was recently released showing XCOM soldiers executing civilians.”

The Commander’s head swung sharply over to Bradford. “XCOM _soldiers?_ ” He demanded incredulously.

“Wearing the armor and everything,” Bradford confirmed as they strode to the elevator. “We’re trying to keep track of the spread, but it was dispersed well. The media is already pouncing on it.”

“We need to put out a statement,” the Commander muttered. “This needs to be killed before it gets out of hand.”

“Van Doorn has prepared some preliminary drafts,” Bradford said, handing him a tablet as they walked. “Though you should probably see the video yourself first.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded grimly as he scanned the short statements. A little two long and wordy. Not what was needed now. “How long ago was it released?”

“About four hours,” Bradford answered. “It hit social media first, and within a few hours the news outlets were picking it up, though since it usually takes around six hours for something like this to get reported _everywhere_ , we suspect that this was sent directly to the media itself.”

“I assume we don’t know where it originated from,” the Commander commented dryly as he thought. “By that I mean the person responsible, since there’s only one organization who could pull this off.”

“Jackson tracked the initial leak to a well-known Russian information leaker, утечка,” Bradford explained as they approached Mission Control. “We used them ourselves when we released that video of our soldiers to the public to increase support. I doubt EXALT is controlling them directly, but they’re definitely sending them the videos.”

The doors to Mission Control hissed open and they stepped into a whirlwind of activity. Screens with various news outlets dominated the visible area, the massive hologlobe was various shades of orange and yellow and analysts and technicians were scurrying around, talking frantically with each other.

Organized chaos was a good description, and the Commander tried to avoid getting in the way as he and Bradford made their way towards Jackson who was talking with another analyst in front of a screen showing Fox News.

Both of them turned as they approached, snapping into quick salutes. “At ease,” he told them automatically and they relaxed.

“Status update?” Bradford asked Jackson.

“Going to get worse the longer we’re silent,” she answered grimly. “Commander, this is Gav Cumar, social analyst for XCOM.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Commander,” he added, inclining his head. “I’m in charge of monitoring the current public mood towards XCOM, the aliens, United Nations, anything that relates to the war against the aliens.”

“You work is appreciated,” the Commander thanked. “So I need to know: how bad is it?”

Gav hesitated and glanced towards Jackson who nodded encouragingly. Clearing his throat, he continued. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better at this point. The damage is done, and whatever you decide to do to handle this will not reach all those who are already outraged about it. Even if you conclusively prove this is fake, this will never go away.”

“Any good news?” Bradford asked.

“The general public fortunately has a very short attention span,” Gav answered quickly. “Should this story be killed within the next few hours, it will likely fade from people’s minds after a few weeks until the next crisis begins. But I must stress that this _cannot_ get repeated coverage if we want panic levels to stabilize.”

“People certainly don’t waste time,” the Commander commented grimly. “Just how much is this spreading beyond the media?”

“There are several United States congress members speaking about it,” Gav informed with a sigh. “In fact, there are at least a few figures in every major government expressing “concern” about the footage.”

Jackson snorted. “This is just way too much of a coincidence that all of them found out about it _and_ had statements prepared so fast.”

The Commander was inclined to agree. Maybe a few would jump on it this fast, but if it was as many as Gav was saying…either EXALT has also sent them this video themselves, or they were EXALT members themselves. “Do we have names?”

“Yes,” Jackson confirmed, handing him a tablet. “It’s still being updated, but this is everyone of import we’ve seen comment on it. Organized by media, governmental figures and prominent social figures or celebrities.”

“Excellent work,” the Commander handed the list back to her after taking a cursory look. “Bradford, let’s see this video.”

“Putting it on screen now,” Bradford confirmed and the screen immediately changed to the familiar view of an XCOM helmet HUD. It was in high-quality, exactly how the actual armor suits captured video. What was shown was a row of people dressed in ordinary civilian clothing kneeling on the floor, hands on their heads.

There was a range of ethnicities among them as well, no doubt a strategic choice. The area this video allegedly took place in seemed to be some kind of warehouse, but the Commander didn’t think that was overly important. What was important were the three other “XCOM” soldiers on the screen.

EXALT had apparently been able to at least replicate their armor, since it looked almost identical to the same thing. It also appeared they’d been able to replicate their laser weapons since that’s what the fake XCOM soldiers were holding.

The sound of footsteps became audible and the figure recording turned to show another fake XCOM soldier walking in, his armor black. “ _Orders from command,”_ he stated, his synthesized voice surprisingly not altered. _“We can’t afford to have them leak our location.”_

“Do we know who’s speaking?” The Commander briefly asked.

“We’re working on it,” Bradford answered. The Commander turned his attention back to the screen.

_“So what do we do, sir?”_ Another fake XCOM soldier asked, as she twitched in place.

_“We either leave them to get captured by the aliens, or we kill them,”_ the leader stated grimly. _“We have no alternative.”_

They must have been speaking helmet-to-helmet, since none of the “captives” responded. Intentional or an oversight? _“Make it quick,”_ the leader said as the soldiers raised their weapons toward the now-terrified “civilians.”

He watched as they shot burning beams of light into their head and within a few seconds all were dead, their faces frozen in terror and pain as the fake XCOM soldiers stood over their corpses. _“Good work,”_ the leader said. _“Let’s get out of here.”_

The video then cut out.

Bradford shut off the screen and turned to the Commander. No wonder it was taking off so quickly. It was about as damning as you could make it. “Not bad,” he admitted. “EXALT doesn’t do things halfway, it seems.”

“Which makes it difficult for us,” Jackson sighed. “So, ideas on how to best counter this?”

“Actually, yes,” the Commander answered, smiling. “Their best and worst move was actually using footage as if captured from an armor cam. They must not have been able to perfectly recreate it since they made two errors. One of which being that XCOM suits are synced to our database and display a name above the heads of other XCOM soldiers. That was missing here.”

“The minimap as well,” Bradford suddenly recalled. “Isn’t that the same one from the Mexico mission?”

The Commander turned on the screen and looked at the minimap. “I don’t quite recall, but the larger issue is that it didn’t rotate when whoever recorded this moved their head. It always does for the real thing.”

“Ok,” Jackson nodded, perking up. “That’s great!”

“Now how best to use it,” Gav said, looking thoughtfully at the screen, then back to the Commander. “A statement combined with video evidence would definitely be enough to stop this in its tracks. However, that would mean you’d have to release some video to the public.”

“Look at the date this allegedly took place,” the Commander pointed out, nodding towards the screen. “Bradford, did any missions take place that day?”

“Looking now,” Bradford answered as he began scrolling through his tablet. “And…yes, one of the recent abductions. The time doesn’t quite match up with the video shown, but it should be enough.”

“Excellent,” the Commander stated, his lips pursing as he ordered his plan. “This is what we’ll do. Bradford, have your team go through that mission and censor names and locations mentioned in it. Do the same with the after-action report. I’ll write up a statement and we’ll send this all in a nice package to everyone we can. To be specific, everyone on that list, Jackson.”

She smiled. “I’ll get right on that, Commander.”

Bradford was already talking on his headset, so the Commander turned directly to Jackson. “Follow the coverage closely after we release our response,” he told her carefully. “If anyone is still reporting on it a day or so later, mark them for investigation. EXALT may have unintentionally shown their hand with this attempt.”

She gave one brief nod. “It will be done, Commander.”

She and Gav walked away, leaving the Commander alone for the time being. He sincerely hoped that Zhang’s investigation didn’t turn up anything on Jackson, since she’d proven to be a valuable part of XCOM. But for the meantime, he’d have to rely on her to do her job.

He turned on his heel and began walking to his office. Time to draft up something suitably condemning for this attempt to tarnish XCOM’s name. EXALT was going to wish they hadn’t played that card, because he had a pretty good idea how he was going to respond.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Soran always performed a simple morning routine, provided that he wasn’t woken up to be sent on a mission. This routine largely consisted of largely getting ready for the day, getting some food and then spending at least a half hour looking up a various collection of news websites, entertainment and profiles of people whose viewpoints he found interesting.

Normally, there wasn’t really anything _important_ , per-se, but he did find it amusing to sometimes read and watch people react to various events without the perspective of being in XCOM. The only consistently entertaining thing recently was the upcoming American election, which he wasn’t sure was a word that should be ascribed to such an important event. Well, he wasn’t American so he didn’t have to worry about that.

But today certainly qualified as interesting _and_ important. He’d blinked in surprise when he first read the headline, but seeing it repeated virtually everywhere had granted it the seriousness it deserved. Since he knew XCOM hadn’t been performing executions on civilians, he was curious as to what exactly was being shown.

The video was a surprisingly high-quality production. Usually “leaked” videos like this tended to either be in poor resolution, grainy, or was a still image or video with someone talking over it. But here it actually looked legitimate…to anyone _not_ in XCOM, which was admittedly not that many people.

Hmm…who could, or would, devote so many resources to such a convincing forgery? EXALT made sense, but the sheer quality made him wonder if the aliens themselves were also the culprits.

He shook his head immediately. Why had he thought that?

That was something to sort out later, since this took priority for the moment. But he suspected that XCOM would put it to rest, since he could already tell that the HUD used wasn’t identical to the _actual_ XCOM HUD, which pretty much every soldier could attest to. He suspected the Commander knew this already and was anticipating this valiant attempt at demonizing XCOM to fade within a week or so.

The reaction itself had been almost just as interesting to observe. It really was amazing just how emotional humans in general were, the amount of people leaping to conclusions and assuming it was real was disturbingly high, not helped that every news station was reporting this, granting a legitimacy to their belief.

But they were civilians, and weren’t exactly familiar with usage of propaganda or counterintelligence. But what he _did_ find inexcusable were the actual _elected_ leaders who were already jumping on this to capitalize on the new public outrage. That was how you got on a list, and Soran suspected that every single government official denouncing XCOM was now on now.

This threw a wrench into his plan to speak with the Commander, but he figured he might as well go in anyway, in the event that the Commander somehow _hadn’t_ noticed that the HUD was different.

“Are you seeing this?” Samuel demanded, storming over, eyes blazing with anger.

Soran raised an eyebrow. “The video? Yes, I saw it.”

Samuel’s eyes widened. “And that’s it? That’s all you have to say about it?”

Soran put down his tablet. “It’s fake. What more needs to be said?”

Samuel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _we_ know it’s fake, obviously. But every idiot commentator is getting the most out of this and destroying our image at the same time!”

“I imagine it’ll be cleared up in a few hours,” Soran said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t go into full panic mode yet.”

Samuel’s nostrils flared. “You know, I really wish I was as calm as you now. But this just makes me mad.”

“Look on the bright side,” Soran suggested. “There are going to be a lot of people who look like idiots when they’re proven wrong.”

Samuel seemed to calm down some and let out a sigh. “I really hope so, but the more likely scenario is that everyone is going to conveniently forget they acted like idiots and move on before they get criticized.”

Soran shrugged. “Nothing you can do about that.”

“Maybe,” Samuel growled. “But I might punch one of our so-called senators if I ever see him. He should have known better.”

“Because that will solve the problem,” Soran commented sarcastically. “But I’ll back you up in this case. That man would probably change his tune if his state was attacked by aliens.”

“Yeah, that’s how it usually is,” Samuel said bitterly. “They denounce us until they realize they need us. Cops, military, XCOM, it’ll never go away.”

“So ignore them,” Soran suggested. “Give them as much attention and respect as they deserve, if you have none for them, don’t give it to them. No one is entitled to respect simply because of existing, it has to be earned.”

Samuel gave him a wan smile. “Yeah, that doesn’t really work to well in the military. You might hate the guy in charge, but he’s still your boss and as I’ve learned from experience, sometimes actually knows what he’s doing.”

“You can still dislike someone and respect them,” Soran pointed out. “But that’s for you to sort out.” He stood up. “In the meantime, I might as well make sure the Commander is aware that the video can be proven to be fake.”

Samuel smirked. “You’re just going to walk up there?”

“He didn’t have a problem last time,” Soran reminded him. “And as long as I come with a good reason, I think this time will be no different.”

“Well, tell him I said hello,” Samuel said jokingly and walked away.

Soran shook his head, amused by that for some reason. By now he’d memorized the Citadel, so he knew the quickest way to the Commander’s office. There were several XCOM personnel wandering through the hallways, and it did remind him of an interesting fact that no one really acknowledged.

The Citadel had to be one of the most complex structures on the planet, which would require an equally talented maintenance crew, which he never really saw but _had_ to exist. He wondered if it was a subsection of the Engineering team since that might account for why he’d never seen a dedicated maintenance crew.

In the grand scheme of things, it likely wasn’t important, but it was something he’d noticed. Perhaps it was that way intentionally to confuse anyone who would try and sabotage the Citadel? Security reasons would make sense, but it was all speculation at this point.

He finally stopped in front of the Commander’s office and waited. The previous time it had opened after a few seconds, so he assumed the Commander either had a video feed or motion sensor that told him when someone was outside. Sure enough, the door hissed open and he walked through.

The Commander was seated as he’d been the last time he’d shown up, looking at a computer screen to his right. As Soran walked up, he turned his attention to him, greeting him with a nod. Soran saluted and the Commander motioned for him to sit down, all the while appraising him…almost cautiously.

“Soran,” he said, placing his hands on the table. “What can I do for you?”

He wasn’t sure if the Commander’s friendly attitude was an act or not. Everything seemed to indicate he was being genuine, but Soran had never encountered a superior who was as accessible and open as the Commander without it being some kind of act to increase loyalty or cooperation. He was usually able to spot a fake, but he hadn’t been able to do that with the Commander. Yet, anyway.

“I assume you saw the video?” Soran asked.

His lips curled into a humorless smile. “Oh yes I did. We’ve just sent a little package to the media containing sufficient evidence to refute what that video showed.”

That was actually a faster response time than Soran had anticipated. He was genuinely impressed with that, but was careful not to show it on his face. “Well, then I guess my primary reason for coming is unneeded.”

“Maybe,” the Commander nodded. “But I’m curious what you noticed.”

“The HUD on the video was different,” Soran answered. “True, you likely already knew that but in the event you hadn’t noticed, better safe than sorry.”

“Even if it was unneeded, I appreciate it,” the Commander thanked, inclining his head. “Your initiative is not going unnoticed.”

Well, that was good. Then he could move onto the actual reason he wanted to speak to the Commander. “I’m glad to hear it. Though there was also another matter I wanted to bring to your attention.”

“Go ahead,” the Commander prompted.

“Is someone called Shaojie Zhang part of XCOM?” Soran asked. “Possibly in the Intelligence branch?”

The Commander cocked his head. “Intelligence Director, actually. Though he, and I, prefer to keep that low profile. Why do you ask?”

As he’d thought. “You know Specialist Shun Anwei?”

“The MSS agent,” the Commander recalled. “Yes, I know her.”

No surprise there. A Chinese agent, soldier or not, was likely to draw attention, whether it was warranted or not. “Are you familiar with her history?”

The Commander frowned. “I am, but is this going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Soran just decided to get to the heart of it. “From speaking with her, she’s told me her job primarily involved operations against the Triad, and she had a high… _distaste_ for them, to put it lightly. I’m unfamiliar with Zhang, but if he was part of the Triad, then Shun might have an issue with that. As far as I know, she is unaware he is even part of XCOM, but if she knew I doubt she’d take it rationally.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I see. That will have to be resolved before she finds out on her own. Thank you for telling me this, you might have averted a diplomatic incident.”

Now for his own curiosity. “What are you going to do?”

“Tell her,” the Commander stated simply. “We can’t afford secrets like this right now, and if Shun has an issue sharing a base with a former Triad member, then she’s welcome to go back to China. But she doesn’t strike me as unreasonable, so she might be convinced to overcome her understandable prejudice.”

Huh. That was _not_ the answer he’d really expected. It seemed very… _reasonable_. Oddly reasonable, in fact. Well then, that certainly answered that question and raised several new questions for him. “Glad to hear it,” he finally said. “I’ll let you get back to work now, Commander.”

“Anytime, Soran,” the Commander said as Soran stood and saluted once more. “Again, I appreciate this.”

With that Soran walked out the room, very curious now as to how Shun would react when told one of her lifetime enemies was under the same roof. It would likely be entertaining, but he was certain he’d hear about the aftermath, one way or another.

 

 

 

  

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


	23. Research and Engineering V

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“With that we’ll have covered over half of Europe.” Van Doorn finished his update as he directed their attention to the screen that showed the latest areas with satellite coverage. “We’ll have to make more satellites if we want to continue.”

The Commander nodded. “I’ll have Shen begin construction. Thanks to the recent influx of funding, we should be able to afford them no problem.”

“The Russians acted fast,” Bradford commented, as he rested his chin on his hand while looking at the screen. “I wonder how much was already in place before you secured the alliances with them?”

“Knowing Russia, likely only the bare minimum,” Van Doorn said, looking over at Bradford. “They don’t invest in something unless it is going to benefit them. If I had to guess, they likely started investing in the bordering countries soon after, or right before, they made their offer to the Commander.”

“Whatever the case, I’m not complaining,” the Commander added as he picked up his tablet and began scrolling through it. “In addition to their increased funding, they also sent over an entire squad of CT agents. More than I expected, to be honest.”

“I’m just glad our forces are back up to an acceptable level,” Van Doorn commented, his features relaxing in relief. “The latest batch of soldiers was desperately needed.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded, and he really was feeling better about the situation now. The new soldiers brought the total armed forces of XCOM up to forty, and this time he’d been sure to screen them a bit more thoroughly before accepting them. He did not want to have to deal with another situation like Shun’s, which still needed to be sorted out.

He still wasn’t sure if the Chinese had intentionally sent her intending her to end up discovering that her mortal enemy was actually in XCOM and then cause trouble, or if it was just an honest mistake that the Chinese had forgotten to mention that detail in her profile. He pursed his lips at the thought. There was so much wrong with that statement, that he wasn’t really sure why he’d thought in the first place. He didn’t trust the Chinese for a multitude of reasons, but they were _not_ that careless or incompetent.

Still, thanks to Soran’s warning, he was able to avoid this situation and would work to ensure it didn’t happen again. “Any additional fallout from the video?” He asked Bradford.

“Depends on where you look,” Bradford answered, looking down at his tablet. “For the most part, the negative side of the controversy has died down. You’ve still got the extremists on social media who are convinced this is some hoax, but we countered this quick enough to prevent widespread outrage.”

“And I get the feeling that there’s something else to add,” the Commander guessed, just from the serious look on Bradford’s face. “What is it?”

“People are asking questions,” Bradford clarified, handing him the tablet with the title simply being, _Who are XCOM?_ “We’ve had media attention before,” Bradford continued. “But it was always accompanied by some other event. We received some brief coverage during the Hamburg attack, but then the Hades Contingency happened and the new Chancellor grabbed the spotlight. When the Dreadnought attacked, people were more focused on the fallout of that than our statement explaining our role.”

“And since there’s nothing eventful going on, they’re focusing on us,” the Commander finished.

“Yes,” Bradford confirmed. “I imagine that this scrutiny on us will entice the Council to confirm that XCOM is a United Nations force.”

Van Doorn furrowed his eyebrows. “Unless there is an objectively large gain to be had by revealing that, I’m skeptical. It may buy them a few initial public points, but then the lens starts turning towards _them_. They won’t like that level of scrutiny, and they’re going to be faced with a very rightfully angry NATO about why they weren’t told.”

“I’ll ask the Speaker about that whenever they decide to call,” the Commander said, frowning. “I’m somewhat surprised they haven’t yet.”

“Maybe they’re still deliberating,” Bradford suggested. “Going public about XCOM will have significant political ramifications.”

“Not to mention that it will likely come to light that quite a few governments knew already,” Van Doorn added. “That could cause problems.”

The Commander chuckled. “Good point. So how should we handle this if the Council decides to keep things the way they are?”

“Good question,” Bradford muttered. “I would normally suggest some kind of public statement, but I doubt you want to open XCOM up to the press.”

“No,” the Commander stated. “Unless the press is blatantly lying about us, let them speculate. Unless it begins to directly hamper our efforts, let them talk about us all they want.”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Van Doorn said, his lips twitching. “But this could be a potential opportunity for us. We could shape the public image of XCOM more positively if we take the lead on this before the speculation becomes rampant.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “And you have something in mind.”

“We find a news station you trust for the most part,” Van Doorn explained. “Then hold a press conference and take a few questions from the public. As XCOM becomes better known, it’s only a matter of time before this is needed. I know public relations isn’t really your… _priority_ …but we can use this.”

The Commander thought for a minute. Controlling the narrative was important, but he wasn’t convinced that talking to the public was going to give them a clear advantage. He required no approval from civilians to do his job well, and aside from the public being more comfortable with XCOM, didn’t see a tangible benefit to this.

Then again, there wasn’t a tangible _downside_ to this, and it might play well with certain people. The thing was, he didn’t necessarily see this as going to increase public approval for XCOM since the majority of answers would likely be “Classified.” It would be viewed as a PR stunt and rightfully so.

“I assume you would do this?” The Commander asked. “I doubt that finding out that a subordinate to the Commander was in charge of XCOM would calm people.”

“I would be the best choice,” Van Doorn agreed. “I have a good reputation and we can use that. It’ll make the public more trustful of us, to say the least.”

The Commander looked at Bradford. “Central?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bradford agreed. “We guide the narrative and make the public less suspicious of us.”

“Our narrative is going to be ‘ _classified_.’” The Commander commented with a sigh. “But I don’t see how this would really hurt us either. Fine. But if we’re doing a PR stunt, we’re not going to hide that. Make it absolutely clear that questions directly related to operations and personnel are classified. The most anyone is going to get out of this is that our purpose is to defend humanity from the aliens, nothing more or less. _Nothing_ political.”

Van Doorn nodded. “Clearly. I’ll begin setting that up. I doubt we’ll have much trouble finding a willing network.”

Bradford snorted. “They’ll probably be tripping over each other trying to get something with us.”

The Commander turned away from the screen and to the holotable. “Alright, moving on. Anything else new in the world?”

“Well, the United States presidential race is well under way,” Bradford answered as he walked over to the end of the holotable and pressed some buttons. A map of the United States appeared, various states red and blue.

“I know that,” the Commander answered. “I suppose you brought that up for a reason?”

“Well, you asked,” Bradford shrugged. “Apparently one of the Democratic nominees has just dropped out.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “I assume this wasn’t because of poor polling?”

“No,” Bradford confirmed. “Sexual assault. Several women came forward with accusations and that was the death blow to his campaign. I’m not surprised, to be honest.”

“Good riddance,” the Commander muttered. “Hopefully he’ll be prosecuted. People like that shouldn’t be permitted to run. That only leaves one major Democrat running, yes?”

“Yes, and he is pretty much the weakest candidate of them all,” Bradford confirmed. “A run-of-the-mill politician from a well-known family with ties too many lobbyist groups, questionable nations, and positions that are safely Democrat.”

“So a moderate?” Van Doorn asked.

“Pretty much,” Bradford sighed. “Though I’d personally say he’s the embodiment of everything wrong with the US political system. His obvious weaknesses combined with the alien invasion have essentially ensured that the Republicans are going to breeze through unless the candidate they select is an absolute moron.”

“And how _is_ the Republican primary going?” The Commander inquired, curious.

“Right now Jonas Malik is leading,” Bradford updated. “But not by much.”

Ah, right. The former Admiral, the last time the Commander checked the candidates, he’d seemed the best choice out of all of them. From a purely military viewpoint, he was really the only valid choice. Policy-wise, things got a little more questionable. But at this point, a stronger military was the better option, and Jonas was likely going to provide that the best.

“Who’s his competition?” The Commander asked. “I remember Kerry was also polling high.”

He grimaced at that. Something about that man made him suspicious, he seemed the embodiment of a conman, saying whatever it took to get elected. It also didn’t help that he used religion as his main selling point. Personally, the Commander felt that the religion, or lack thereof, in a candidate was irrelevant in determining if they would do a good job or not. It was unfortunate that a disturbing number of people didn’t actually know what was meant by the separation of church and state.

“He was,” Bradford nodded. “But he’s recently falling due to the rapidly rising Kamili Rono.”

Van Doorn brightened. “Ah, that’s good to hear.”

“Interesting,” the Commander commented. He was somewhat surprised at that. “I’m surprised she’s managed to get that far despite her lack of experience.”

“Because people like her,” Van Doorn explained with a shrug. “She’s done excellent humanitarian work, not to mention is the embodiment of an American success story. It also helps that she’s not marred by the scandals most politicians deal with, founded or no.”

“She’s a pacifist,” the Commander remembered with a frown. Truthfully, he’d been rather impressed with her up to that little point. “Regardless of her good qualities, we can’t afford someone like leading America.”

Van Doorn snorted. “I highly doubt she’ll let that interfere with the alien invasion. She’s not an unreasonable person from what I’ve seen.”

“We’ll see,” the Commander said, letting the matter drop for now. “We’ve got a long way until the election, though.”

“I’m curious,” Bradford suddenly asked, cocking his head. “Where do you fall on the spectrum? Who are you leaning towards?”

The Commander shrugged. “Personally? I’d prefer we keep President Treduant until the alien invasion is decided one way or another. Changing leaders during a war is a bad idea, and I like her. She’s decisive and level-headed, judging from how she handled the Vice President corruption charges.”

“She did handle that admirably,” Van Doorn agreed slowly. “If not for her they’d likely still be in the process of charging him. Forcing a military trial was bold, and definitely didn’t play well with the Republican leadership.”

“But if you’re asking for a party affiliation, I don’t have one,” the Commander continued. “I was always an independent. Sometimes I voted Republican, other times Democrat, whoever I felt would lead the country best, which did admittedly swing more Republican for me,” a smile came to his lips as he remembered something. “Though one year both candidates were so bad that I just wrote in the name of my immediate superior. He probably would have done a better job than both candidates put together.”

“Makes sense,” Bradford nodded. “I generally vote Republican in presidential races. Congress is usually more mixed. A lot of them are really unreasonable.”

“And I just watch your government and sigh,” Van Doorn chuckled. “I hope the Netherlands never gets to this point. Though it is entertaining in a sad way. I think that’s why I’m hoping Kamili wins. She’s a cure to all the corruption there.”

“For now,” the Commander warned. “People change once power is given to them. There’s a reason politicians are distrusted, they earned their reputation.”

“Well, then I’d argue that we should promote those that actually aren’t corrupt,” Van Doorn argued. “Idealism isn’t always naïve. Change only comes when people start working towards it and not accepting the status quo.”

Well, he didn’t put much stock in idealism anymore. The world didn’t work that way and he saw no reason to give himself much hope that one uncorrupted woman was somehow going to change America. But he knew he was a cynic, Van Doorn was not. “I hope you’re right,” he finally said.

Van Doorn nodded. “Anything else?” He asked Bradford.

Bradford shook his head. “Nothing worth noting that affects us.”

 “Good to know,” the Commander nodded. “Thanks Bradford. Van Doorn, anything to add or does that cover everything?”

“More or less,” Van Doorn answered, as he stepped back. “I’ll get started on planning for XCOM’s first public appearance.” He saluted. “Commander.”

He returned the salute and Van Doorn exited the room. The Commander rested on the table for a moment. “Well, now I suppose I’ll check in with Zhang, Shen and Vahlen.”

Bradford suddenly smiled, or more accurately, smirked at that. “Looking forward to one in particular?”

The Commander eyed him suspiciously. “Does it matter?”

“I’m just curious,” Bradford continued, looking very amused. “So, when are you going to make it official?”

The Commander was now fairly certain what he was referring too, but wanted to be sure. “Make _what_ official?”

Bradford chuckled. “Come on, you and Vahlen. What? Did you think we’re all blind?”

“Well, no,” the Commander admitted. “Though I didn’t think it was that big a concern.”

“Well not a _concern,_ ” Bradford clarified. “But I don’t know why you’ve put if off. You both like each other, clearly, so I’m not sure what’s stopping you.”

That was a subject he was not going to discuss with Bradford. “It’s complicated.”

Bradford clearly didn’t buy that. “Sure,” he placated. “Well, I suppose you should have that explanation ready. Because if you don’t make a move soon, I think _she_ will. Something tells me she won’t like that excuse.”

The Commander was amused at that. “I’ll be sure to keep your expert relationship advice in mind, Bradford.”

“Touchy,” Bradford chuckled. “I’ll let you get to it then.”

“Good idea,” the Commander muttered as he walked away, glad _that_ conversation was over. Despite that, Bradford _did_ have a point, and he felt things between him and Vahlen were going to come to a head soon and he better figure out what he was going to do about it.

***

_The Citadel, Engineering Bay_

It was a shame he wasn’t an engineer, because Herman was surprised how enjoyable it was to actually try to design something. True, he hadn’t got to the actual mathematical specifications, just using sketches and graphical equipment, to get a general idea of what he wanted. True, he could have just gone to the engineers and stated what he was thinking, but he did want to put some effort into this.

He’d settled on three ideas to present to the engineers, two he felt were possible, one he wasn’t sure on, but if it could be done, would be extremely beneficial. As he walked into the bustling facility, he did realize that there might be an issue, namely that he had no clue where to go.

Shen was the one he’d initially wanted to give them to, but since he didn’t see him around, decided to take this opportunity and look around to see what XCOM Engineering was doing.

He could be wrong, but it seemed that it was busier than the last time he’s decided to walk through. There must have been at least twenty or thirty people wandering around, operating machines or poring over various weapons, gadgets or alien tech. He was hesitant to interrupt them, since they seemed intently focused on their tasks.

He frowned as something caught his eye. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Was that a _dog_? A German Shepherd, if he was seeing things correctly. One of the engineers was putting some kind of armor on it, while another woman stood close by. Well, this he had to see.

As he got closer he noticed that the engineer in question was much younger than the rest in this room. She looked like she wasn’t even out of her teens yet, but still wore the uniform.

The woman who he assumed was the owner of the dog noticed him coming up and nodded in greeting. Up close, he was surprised by how good the armor actually looked on the dog, it didn’t look particularly thick, but it covered the body and legs fully, it was jointed as well, offering even more protection.

He wondered if it would be too heavy though. That kind of armor, while great, would definitely slow the dog down. The young engineer stood up and looked at the woman almost giddily. “So? What do you think?”

Her enthusiasm was palpable and the woman smiled in response. “Quite honestly, it’s very…good. Let’s see how Aluma likes it.” Herman assumed that was the name of her dog.

“לְשַׂחֵק!” She called and the dog got up and started running around the area, easily avoiding the few engineers moving through. She actually seemed to like it, judging from when she returned she began nuzzling her owner’s hand with her armored snout.

“I didn’t think I’d see that here,” Herman commented, inclining his head towards the young engineer. “Impressive.”

“Thanks!” She beamed. “I think she likes it.”

“So do I,” the woman agreed. “I’ll have to put her through some exercises, but you did well. Thank you, Miss Shen.”

 _Shen_. Well that was interesting. Herman looked at her with new interest, he wasn’t aware that Shen _had_ a daughter, let alone that she was here and working. The woman and her dog walked away, and she turned to him. “I don’t think we’ve met, have we?”

Herman smiled and shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Herman Diederick,” he extended a hand which she took enthusiastically.

“Lily Shen,” she answered, confirming that she was the daughter of Shen. “So, what do you need here?”

“Actually, I was looking for your father,” Herman told her. “You know where he is?”

She bit her lip and looked up. “Hmm, not at the moment, but I can find him. What are you going to show him?”

He didn’t see any reason not to tell her, it wasn’t like the Commander had instructed him to keep these classified. “Just some ideas that I think could be used to keep our soldiers alive.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Can I see?”

Her enthusiasm was a welcome change to the dreary seriousness of everything. “Sure, why not,” he answered as he pulled out his tablet. “Nothing major, but I think it might help in the longer battles against the aliens.”

Taking his tablet, she immediately turned around and walked towards her workbench. Herman appraised her as pulled out a piece of paper and started drawing. “A portable turret,” she muttered while she drew. “Useful. It would have to be compact to be viable.”

“Right,” Herman agreed, glad she caught on so fast. “I’m not an engineer, so these’ll have to be converted to actual be used.”

“But visual aids are nice,” Lily added absentmindedly. “I really appreciate that. Anyway, this is much simpler than that armor,” she stuck the end of her pen in her mouth as she thought, then brightened. “Yes! We can take the main design of the autolaser and modify it to include collapsible stands. Or just be able to be attached easily.” She nodded and continued drawing.

“I didn’t intend for you to do all this yourself,” Herman interrupted. “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you’re doing.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she answered cheerily. “I’m not technically part of the team. I’m just doing odd projects, here and there. Like these, for instance.”

Hmm. “And are you looking at this as your next project?”

“Why not?” She looked over curiously. “I’ll have to let my father know, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it. I know how most of this stuff works.”

Normally, he would have been skeptical that someone as young as her could be useful, but she appeared to know what she was doing, and provided that the elder Shen _did_ agree, he didn’t have an issue with it. “Alright. If you really want to, I’m not opposed to it.”

She gave him a wide smile. “Excellent! I do want to work with you on this though, since these are _your_ ideas. I can tell you how feasible they are or not.”

Well, he’d worked with worse people, an oddly young engineer prodigy couldn’t be worse. “It’s a deal.”

“I’ll look through these others,” she said, standing up straight and walking down the workbench further. “But before that, I want you to test something for me.” She picked up an odd-looking weapon and handed it to him.

It was a dull silver rifle-type weapon, which was more or less traditional until it reached the end of the barrel. The last part had multiple small holes for vents, and on the top and bottom the barrel were curved pieces of metal that appeared hinged to within the weapon itself. The final detail was the metal spike that jutted out of the end.

“What is this?” He asked as he looked it over.

“I came up with it initially as an armor-penetrating weapon,” Lily explained. “Something to pierce the cyberdisks or mechtoids if lasers couldn’t do it. Since we’ve broken through on Gauss weaponry, I suppose this is kinda redundant, but I wanted to see what you thought.”

Herman motioned toward the target range set up. “Well, let’s see.”

Both of them walked in front of the range, and Herman raised the weapon at the target. “Wait!” Lily interrupted as she dashed to a corner and he lowered the weapon. “There needs to be something better,” she rummaged through the pile of targets and sheets and finally emerged holding a sheet of metal. After setting it up on the target, she jogged back over to Herman’s side. “Right! Try it now.”

Herman nodded and raised the weapon once more. The recoil forced him to step back as those two curved pieces of metal shot up and downwards as the bolt shot out of the barrel. After regaining his footing, he saw the bolt had torn clean through the sheet of metal and paper target and had embedded itself in the far wall.

“This thing sure packs a punch,” he commented as he handed the weapon to her. “It’d have to be tested a bit more, but you seem to have developed an excellent armor penetrating weapon.”

“Thanks,” he answered happily. “The model is a bit out of date, since a Gauss powered one is the new standard now.” She took out another metal bolt and stuck it in the barrel, then pulled down on the curved pieces of metal, securing it with a loud click.

That was the second time she’d referred to “Gauss” weaponry. He vaguely remembered something about that, magnetic weapons? He better catch up since it seemed to be the newest leap in tech for XCOM. “The only issue I see with this is that it’s very…limited,” Herman added, figuring a bit of criticism was warranted. “The soldier wielding it would have to have very good aim.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed as she brushed a few black strands of hair out of her face. “I might look into making it somewhat automatic, but I think we should start working on your ideas now.”

“Fine by me,” he nodded, ready to get to it. “You told your father about this?”

“Not this one,” she admitted. “I want to upgrade it before showing him.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But I think the Commander would be interested in this.”

“Probably,” Lily nodded happily. “He’s the reason I’m being allowed to work here at all. I’ll try and show it to him as well.”

Really. Huh, well he couldn’t fault the Commander for taking advantage of such talent. He knew how to use the people around him the best. “Lead the way,” he motioned back toward her workbench and they both went and got to work.   

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

“That will be our public response,” the Commander finished updating Zhang on the planned public statement from XCOM. “We’ll see how effective that is, but in the meantime, I want a more tangible response to EXALT.”

Zhang looked stone-faced as ever, but the Commander could tell from his eyes lack of focus that he was thinking. “I’m not sure this was intended to actually damage us or not.”

The Commander cocked his head at him. “It may not have been that successful, but I don’t think you can say it wasn’t intended to damage us.”

“Not quite,” Zhang clarified. “But all of this seemed less of an actual attempt at slander and more like a test. Our greatest evidence of this being a fake is that the HUD is wrong. Normally I’d chalk that up to incomplete information, but the fact is that there _was_ a video of XCOM soldier already released.”

The Commander considered that for a moment. Zhang did have a good point, since the Commander _had_ approved an unendorsed release of a mission for propaganda purposes. “I suppose the chances of them not knowing are slim?” He asked.

Zhang fixed his with the blankest look possible, conveying just how stupid he thought that was. “Not unless they are completely incompetent at their jobs, and from our own experience, EXALT is _not_ incompetent.”

The Commander nodded, he’d had the same thought, but Zhang would have known for sure. “Then I suppose the question is why they chose to ignore obvious details like that.”

“Yes,” Zhang muttered as he turned to his holotable. “The site responsible for releasing this initially was not able to provide the location of the original sender, not that it would have been useful anyway. This whole situation reeks of a test, the perpetrator, execution and scenario were not just staged for the world, it was staged for _us_.”

“So I suppose they’d like to know how well we’d respond,” the Commander guessed as he thought about it some more. “A clever way to actually test our capabilities. They now know that information with no downside to them.”

“That’s what I’m working with,” Zhang confirmed with a nod. “But it tells me I’m dealing with a competent intelligence director. Which means I can more accurately predict how they will respond.”

“Except we have the advantage,” the Commander pointed out. “Unlike us, EXALT thrives off anonymity. We release our own doctored video and they can’t exactly refute it with drawing attention to themselves.”

“There are other ways to deal with incriminating information beyond public statements,” Zhang said thoughtfully. “We have a list of suspected stations that have been compromised by EXALT. Should something be released, we’ll be fighting the media already compromised, and they’ll have their own “experts” on hand to refute anything released.”

The Commander frowned. “Unfortunately, we can’t remove people in the media without proof.”

“Right,” Zhang agreed. “Which is why I want to test EXALT myself. We have names and places. We send a video on EXALT to them and see what happens. Should it get coverage, even questionable coverage, we could assume that the entire network is not compromised. Should it not…action might be taken, especially if we keep records on who it was sent to, then release that information when our next wave of videos hit.”

“Should we find them compromised, what do you suggest for our response?” The Commander asked.

“We take them,” Zhang stated coldly. “Question them for information, confessions would be released to draw more attention to EXALT. More importantly, the media arm of EXALT would be severely hampered.”

“Go ahead with your test,” the Commander allowed. “Now, we need actual content for these videos.”

“I assume you have some ideas?” Zhang asked, crossing his arms.

“The records linking Solaris Industries to an EXALT shell company are the solidest,” the Commander began. “But I don’t want to release those until we’ve confirmed for ourselves. No, we need something for people to be outraged over. Fortunately, Vahlen has provided us with the perfect opportunity.”

Zhang nodded for him to continue. “We have footage of the genetic experiments,” the Commander continued. “Regardless of their necessity, I doubt it can be argued that they would be considered horrific.”

Zhang cracked a smile. “Should they somehow get released with the name EXALT attached to them…”

“That will expose the name to the public,” the Commander finished. “The debate over the validity of the footage will be useful, but it will propel EXALT out of anonymity.”

“It also provides another way to track suspected EXALT plants,” Zhang added, looking thoughtfully at the holotable.  “Beyond those who comment on the video in the first place, the ones who specifically omit EXALT connections might need to be watched closely.”

“The greatest irony is that it won’t be fake,” the Commander commented wryly. “Aside from the complete implausibility of it all.”

“No,” Zhang suddenly interrupted raising a hand and looking at the Commander intently. “The subjects Vahlen used are still alive, yes?”

“As far as I know,” the Commander answered. “She said she wouldn’t kill them until she extracted everything she could.”

“When she _does_ terminate them, tell her to preserve the bodies,” Zhang stated, a glint in his eye. “I image this would make a greater impact if this was found on the body of one of the victims.”

“Much harder to dismiss the footage too,” the Commander nodded, a smile crossing his face. “It’ll be interesting to see the EXALT react to this.”

“That’ll be the second release,” Zhang said. “After we establish the likely EXALT plants in the media. Once that’s done, we’ll further refine it with the second release, afterwards XCOM Intelligence will take appropriate action against suspected EXALT plants, with your approval.”

“Keep me updated,” the Commander confirmed with a nod. “What are you thinking of for the first release?”

“Perhaps have some EXALT soldiers talk about their alliance with the aliens,” Zhang mused. “EXALT are not the only ones who can fabricate footage.”

“Good enough,” the Commander said. “Are you going to move on Solaris Industries soon?”

“That will have to wait until the media plants are sorted out,” Zhang answered. “But I will have a team working in the United States. Solaris Industries is a secondary objective for now.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander relented. “Anything else I should know.”

Zhang pursed his lips. “Perhaps. The esteemed Supreme Leader made a speech yesterday that went largely unnoticed by the world in the wake of the released video.”

The Commander snorted. “Big shock, that. Amazing that no one is interested in North Korean propaganda right now.”

“The speech was actually surprising,” Zhang admitted, as he picked up a tablet and began tapping on it. “He essentially declared the aliens a threat and said that North Korea would prepare for war against the invaders.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. Well then, that _was_ surprising. Supreme Leader Iseul Gwan of North Korea had deliberately kept from antagonizing any countries in the past few decades, but he was undisputedly a dictator whose exact military and political strength was unknown, largely to the veil of secrecy over the country.

Unfortunate the rest of the world hadn’t taken notice yet, because when _North Korea_ was making reasonable statements, perhaps it was time for reevaluation. “Oddly reasonable of him,” he commented to Zhang.

“The Supreme Leader isn’t an idiot,” Zhang shrugged. “He has nothing to gain from ignoring the aliens. But _this_ was what was interesting. Look at the soldiers behind him.”

The Commander took the tablet and immediately saw what Zhang was talking about. The two soldiers standing behind the Supreme Leader as he spoke were _not_ typical North Korean soldier. They wore black armor that seemed loosely based on XCOM’s own armor, though not quite as thick.

The shoulder pads were larger than was necessary, and the red paint that covered them was clearly for decoration. Lines of red paint also colored their blackened armor, and the North Korean emblem was stamped clearly on their upper right chest. But what caught his eye was the odd helmet they wore.

It was oddly angular, and completely covered the face from the eyes up. In the middle of that was a red light line that was likely the way the soldiers saw outside. The lower portion of the helmet was similarly armored, and the portion in the middle was covered with what he assumed was a darkened plastic.

The whole outfit was completely ceremonial, capped off by the red shoulder cape that fell from their right shoulders. It was projecting an image or authority and power the Commander hadn’t seen from North Korea in years. The lighting of the stage where the Supreme Leader spoke was such that the soldiers were in shadow, the red light from their helmets glowing ominously.

“I guess they took some cues from us on the armor,” the Commander muttered. “But the only major power that I can think of that used colors, lighting and paraphernalia like this were the Nazis and Soviet Union. A bold move.”

“Which makes me wonder if they’re preparing for something,” Zhang said as he took the tablet back. “What also is concerning is that armor looks very sophisticated. More so than should be possible for them.”

“Keep watching,” the Commander advised. “But I doubt North Korea would try something now.”

Zhang’s lips twitched. “Let’s hope so. But aside from that, nothing worth reporting.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “Then we should get started on hitting back EXALT.”

Zhang gave the ghost of a smile. “With pleasure.”

***

_The Citadel, Practice Range_

Soran raised his pistol and after focusing on the outsider dummy, nodded and Samuel who stood beside him with his own rifle raised. At that affirmation both of them began firing, lighting up the range with red laser.

The smell of charred cardboard, plastic and foam filled the air, and Soran just filtered that out, methodically shooting a small bursts of light into the heads on the targets.

“And…hold!” Mordecai called out and Soran immediately ceased firing and stepped back.

Shun whistled as she stepped up by him. “Ok, that was impressive.”

Soran looked over the range of burning targets in satisfaction. Not his personal record here, but he prized accuracy over the number of hits and each target that he’d hit was a nice smoking hole in the head or center chest.

“Yes, yes, very impressive,” Mordecai continued, smirking. “But in this case Samuel wins this match.”

“I was using a rifle,” Samuel added, amused as he turned to them. “Told you that I was going to win.”

“The point was to prove a pistol isn’t always an inferior weapon,” Soran reminded him as he switched out the power cell with a fresh one. “Ten kills isn’t bad.”

“True, true,” Samuel admitted, chuckling. “I guess you made your point. You’re a lot more accurate with a pistol than I am.”

“For sure,” Shun agreed. “Especially at this range.”

“Lasers seem to make range redundant,” Mordecai pointed out, as he pulled out his own laser pistol. Unlike the rest of them, the Israeli soldier never went anywhere without some kind of weapon. “No recoil and unaffected by weather and gravity. That would make any weapon viable, no matter the size. Still,” he nodded at Soran. “You’re a good shot.”

“Thanks,” Soran acknowledged as he holstered his pistol. “High praise from you.”

The man smiled at that. “Well, you’re not a sniper, but you’re pretty damn close.”

Soran snorted. “Sniping requires a degree of patience that I don’t have.”

“It does,” Mordecai agreed thoughtfully. “But there’s nothing quite as rewarding.”

“Question,” Shun asked, crossing her arms. “When exactly are you using these sniping skills? Radical terrorism is down, especially in the Middle East, and Israel isn’t involved in any wars. So what do you do?”

Mordecai gave a small smile as he looked at the smaller Chinese woman. “Inquisitive, aren’t you? But a fair question, which has a very simple answer: very little. In times of peace militaries normally just patrol and do drills. I’d occasionally get brought on for a hostage crisis or some other event that the police couldn’t handle.”

“My sympathies,” Samuel winced. “The US manages to keep all their special forces busy. There’s always a crisis somewhere.”

Soran cracked a smile. “Well, I think that’s America’s fault for deciding to solve all the world’s problems itself.”

Fortunately Samuel didn’t take offense. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But if not us then who? The UN?”

They all laughed at that, even Shun. It seemed the Chinese didn’t exactly have a high opinion of the UN either after Soran had talked with her a bit about it. They didn’t really have a strong opinion one way or another. As Shun explained it, they saw the UN as a possible tool that could be used against smaller nations, but which posed no threat to them.

“I wonder if the aliens ever went through this?” Samuel wondered out loud. “It’d be interesting to know if their history played out similarly.”

“Hmm,” Shun seemed to think for a minute. “I mean, I don’t think we can really make assumptions. I’m more interested if all these species we’ve seen all come from the same planet.”

“Unlikely,” Mordecai dismissed, shaking his head. “The chances of this many species with sentience all developing on the same planet, at the same time, would be astronomically small.”

“I would also think that if they shared a world with the chryssalids, they’d be wiped out,” Soran added, pleasantly surprised they were actually having a conversation about this. “It makes more sense that this is a coalition of various alien species.”

“Then comes the big question,” Samuel pointed out. “Which species is in charge?”

“Sectoids,” Shun stated firmly. “Whenever they appear, they seem to be in charge. Not to mention they could use psionics to keep the rest of the species in line.”

“Yeah, but then why are they taking part in missions?” Mordecai questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I might buy that if we’d only encountered them on ships, or the ones encased in those suits. But we’ve seen them on lowly abduction missions. Why would they take part if they were in charge? They clearly don’t lack numbers.”

“Mostly because no other species makes sense,” Shun shrugged. “You have a better explanation?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “We haven’t encountered it yet.”

“I’ve wondered that,” Soran nodded. “But who could manage to keep the sectoids subservient? Shun has a point that their psionics are dangerous, and _every_ sectoid has them.”

“A species that is even more powerful?” Samuel suggested. “I mean, that’s the only explanation, right?”

“Pretty much,” Shun agreed. “Well, unless one of those thin men talk, we’re likely not going to find out anytime soon.”

“What do you think they look like?” Samuel asked. “When they’re _not_ impersonating us?”

Soran smirked. “Whatever they want.”

“And how do you assume that?” Mordecai asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Think about it,” Soran explained. “They’ve gotten pretty good at imitating us, which implies that they have likely mastered genetic modification. If they can do that, what’s to stop them from changing themselves into what _they_ want?”

“Good point,” Mordecai conceded. “But there are limitations. They haven’t managed to flawlessly replicate a human, and probably never will.”

“They’ve gotten pretty close,” Samuel argued. “Who’s to say it won’t happen?”

“Because of one major flaw,” Mordecai continued. “They aren’t human. They can look like us, but they’ll never _be_ us. They don’t have thought processes like us and can’t comprehend human reasoning and emotion. They might try to understand it, but won’t get much farther than that.”

Soran frowned. “They don’t exactly strike me as that…well, stupid. Why _wouldn’t_ they be able to understand us?”

“Because they’re aliens,” Samuel shrugged. “Can you think like a muton or sectoid? Same deal.”

“Yeah, but we know nothing about them,” Shun added, pursing her lips. “Of course we can’t know how they think. But if we ever learned more about them, I don’t see why some of us wouldn’t understand their thought process, even if it seems backwards to our own.”

“Maybe we can debate that after we wipe them out,” Samuel suggested. “As much as I’m interested in the aliens, I’m more interested in kicking them off our planet.”

“Copy that,” Mordecai agreed with a nod.

Soran and Shun exchanged a look, and she clearly thought the same as him. Even if the ultimate goal of XCOM was to drive the aliens away, if not wipe them out completely, he didn’t see a reason not to at least learn about their motivations, culture and outlook. He supposed he was an outlier here, since it seemed the vast majority of XCOM soldiers weren’t interested in learning about the aliens, only killing them.

Which he supposed made sense, many of them had lost friends and family, so it made sense. He supposed he could count himself lucky he didn’t fall into that category. Interesting that Shun seemed to have some interest, even if she didn’t feel like pressing it further.

“Come on,” Samuel called as he motioned them to follow. “I’m starving.”

Well, he couldn’t disagree there. A meal sounded good right now, and the four of them walked out of the Practice Range in fairly high spirits.

***

_The Citadel, Engineering Bay_

All the engineers were hard at work as the Commander walked into the Engineering Bay looking for Shen. He suspected that he’d be in the Cybernetics Lab, so he began making his way through the machinery and engineers towards the entrance.

“Commander!”

He turned to see Lily rushing over to him with an excited grin on her face. It was nice to see someone happy in the situation they were in. “Lily, how are you doing?”

“Very well, Commander,” she answered, blushing slightly. “Anyway, you’re looking for my father, right?”

He nodded. “I am, do you know where he is?”

She pointed down the Engineering Bay and the Commander saw Shen standing by a table displaying what looked like new weapons. Well, that was promising. “He said to watch for you,” Lily continued. “He’s got some things to show.”

“I see that,” the Commander nodded, glancing down at her. “Thank you, Lily.”

She smiled and gave a short wave. “Anytime, Commander!”

The Commander smiled and began walking over to where Shen was. As he got closer he immediately noticed that the weapons set on the table looked far more similar to the ballistic weapons they’d initially started out with. All of them were colored a matte black, accented with darker grays, and the oddest part was that even though these weapons were heavily inspired by outdated technology they looked… _compact_. _Refined_.

“Taking inspiration from our old weapons, I see,” the Commander commented as he walked up. “I didn’t think we were going back to ballistics.”

Shen looked over to him and nodded in greeting. “To be completely honest, neither did I. You can actually thank Israel for giving me the idea. When I heard that they were looking into Gauss tech, I wondered just how viable it would be.”

He spread out his arm, indicating the table. “And as it turns out, it is _very_ viable.”

That sounded good. Very good. “Explain it,” the Commander prompted. “Gauss technology is essentially using magnets to propel projectiles, right?”

It wasn’t the most elegant explanation, but that was basically what the Commander had gotten from his own research into Gaussian tech. Shen winced as he spoke. “That…is a very, uh, _crude_ way of putting it. But mostly correct. Thanks to Gauss tech and formulas, we can use magnets to propel bullets at a speed that was once thought impossible.”

Impossible. That word seemed to be losing it’s meaning the further the war advanced. He once again found it interesting, and somewhat disheartening, that it took a war threatening the human race to achieve all these scientific breakthroughs. Granted, some of it would be impossible without alien tech, but with the combined intelligence of the best minds from around the world, _something_ would have been done.

“I assume that it’s better at penetrating the alien armor than our previous ballistic weapons?” The Commander asked as he walked over to the table, running his hand over the sleek weapons.

“I wouldn’t have approved production if they weren’t,” Shen declared as he walked up by him. “There is also another reason why these weapons are now viable. Has Vahlen spoken to you about the elerium?”

The Commander frowned. “No, nothing about that yet. Why?”

“Everyone has been busy,” Shen shrugged as he continued. “Remember we recovered a large amount of that energy substance from the alien Dreadnought and didn’t know what that was. Well, it turns out that it seems to contain an unprecedented amount of energy just waiting to be tapped into. We’ve managed to take some of the crystals and use the energy to power the Gauss weapons, but we’ve only begun scratching the surface of what this substance can do.”

Well then, he’d have to speak to Vahlen about that and see if he could get that project started. “I’ll speak to her about that later. We should probably look into it.”

I agree completely,” Shen nodded. “And yes, all of these weapons are ready for testing. I know you prefer trying them for yourself.”

The Commander gave a lopsided grin. “I certainly plan on it.”

He picked up the rifle and immediately noted that it was _much_ heavier than the laser rifle and even an ordinary ballistic weapon. As he walked over to the range set up, he also noted that it _did_ seem just slightly smaller than a regular assault rifle. _Compact_ was a good word, but raising the weapon and getting a greater feel for it, _dense_ fit much better.

It was without a doubt the solidest weapon he’d ever wielded by far. No part of the weapon felt unbalanced and it felt like a refined, solid weapon that would stand under the harshest combat conditions. The pinnacle of ballistic technology.

Well, until something else was discovered.

Shen had set up three sheets of alien alloys, with aliens outlined in black, a sectoid, thin man and outsider. What he found interesting was that each sheet seemed to be a slightly different color, from a dull silver to a dark gray. The alloys also seemed to get thicker as they progressed.

“Interesting target progression,” the Commander noted to Shen as he took a stance. “That intentional?”

“Yes,” Shen confirmed. “I set that up as a demonstration of a much smaller, but resource-saving discovery we made a short while ago.”

The Commander lowered the weapon and looked at him. “And that is?”

“Thanks to the wide variety of alien equipment we’ve recovered, we’ve been able to determine that there are various types of alien alloys, not all just one metal as we’ve been using for so long,” Shen explained, nodding towards the sheets of metal. “Like we have different metals used for different purposes, the aliens utilize the same for their alloys. We’ve been able to split the alien alloys into three categories: light, medium and heavy. If we discover more variants exist, we will add to them.”

The Commander nodded. Good, that could potentially give them an easy way to upgrade their gear. “Good work, I assume that the heavy alloys will be for armor and MEC suits?”

“More or less,” Shen answered. “Now that we’ve have a way to clearly divide the alloys, we can use the types more efficiently. Using the light alien alloys can be used to provide an extra layer of protection to our Ravens without having to rework the entire design. It’s also useful in coating our rounds for additional armor penetration, which would have been an infeasible usage of resources under our old system. We’re still exploring ways to use the alloys more efficiently, now that we’ve successfully categorized them.”

“Excellent,” the Commander stated, as he returned to aiming with his rifle. “Let’s see how well this works.”

He centered in on the thin man painted on the medium strength alloy sheet and fired. The barrel burst red with a loud pop and he saw a red streak tear into the target within a millisecond. He’d braced himself beforehand, but the recoil was just like the weapon itself, smaller, but packing a hell of a punch.

Prepared more now, he let off a burst of Gauss powered rounds, and with each shot taken, was liking the weapon more and more. As it stood now, this was one of the best weapons he’d used in terms of sheer power and design. Shen hadn’t exaggerated the weapons capabilities, where he’d fired, he could clearly see holes in the alloy sheet.

 _Solid_. That was what defined this weapon, in more ways than one. From its performance to the design, power and capabilities, it was at least as useful as the laser variant, if not more so.

“You outdid yourself here,” he complimented as he stood back. “I don’t think I’ve used better.”

Shen seemed pleased, judging from the smile on his face. “I appreciated it, Commander. My team worked hard on it, though perhaps you should try the others before declaring this one your favorite.”

The Commander grinned and walked back to the table and picked up the sniper rifle, immediately noting that the same word applied to this weapon as well: Solid. Had this been any other sniper rifle, the barrel would have been too heavy, but it all balanced out with the rest of the weapon itself. There was no wasted or unnecessary weight. It was heavier overall, but it didn’t seem to interfere with his ability to aim and shoot.

  Taking a wide stance, he looked down the scope which functioned as well as usual. Centering on the outsider head painted on the heavy alloy sheet, he fired. He was shocked to feel essentially no recoil from the shot, so much so that he looked at the weapon wondering if he missed something.

He did look up briefly at the target, which now had a clean hole through it. “How did you manage no recoil?” He demanded in amazement to Shen.

The engineer adjusted his glasses. “Trial, error and compromise. We figured that accuracy would be most important, so we had to make sacrifices elsewhere.”

“Where?” The Commander asked as he looked at the rifle. “It seems to work fine. Perfect, even.”

“The functionality wasn’t sacrificed,” Shen assured him. “But the magazine is a different story. You just fired half the rounds in the weapon.”

Two rounds. Hmm, that wasn’t ideal, but the weapon was essentially perfect otherwise, so he could overlook that issue. “Can it be increased, eventually?”

“Anything is possible,” Shen admitted. “Though I doubt it. Not unless you want performance to suffer.”

Oh well, well he could deal with limited ammunition, as well as any sniper worth their title. Let’s see…what next? Might as well try the pistol. Picking it up, he was surprised not to feel much of a difference between this weapon and a regular pistol. True, they were already solid to begin with, so that likely explained it. But this one was perfectly balanced, unlike some pistols he’d used in the past.

After firing it several times at the light alloy sheet, he concluded that it wasn’t a _dramatic_ improvement, except in terms of power. The Gauss rounds had pierced the sheet, but the Commander knew that it wouldn’t be as powerful as a rifle or sniper rifle. But any pistol that could pierce a sheet of alien metal was one he was satisfied with.

Now for the final weapon, the Gauss equivalent of the SAW. The design was almost the same, but the Commander grunted as he picked it up. It was _much_ heavier than he remembered, but chalked it up to these weapons being heavier because of the Gauss tech.  He swung the weapon towards the far right sheet and fired.

He was forced to take a step back as the weapon unloaded with a barrage of red streaks tearing into the metal. He kept the fire sustained and watched in amazement as he essentially cut the sheet of alien alloys in half. Although the weapon didn’t show any signs of overheating, he decided not to push it and stopped.

That was definitely the most powerful weapon he’d wielded today, and there were going to be several soldiers looking to use it. “Well,” he said, turning to Shen. “I’d say you’ve done your job well. Excellent work.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Shen acknowledged. “I think it will serve as an excellent counterpart to our laser weapon arsenal.”

A counterpart. That was actually a very good note. As much as the Commander liked the new Gauss weapons, he _did_ think that there would be cases where laser weaponry was more appropriate. Laser weapons would be much more effective on unarmored or lightly armored creatures like the sectoids and thin men, but this would be better for the heavier armored aliens like the cyberdisks and mutons.

A balance would be good, and now they had a reliable counter to the alien’s heavier units. “Well, anything else?” The Commander asked, turning to Shen.

“We’ve begun work decoding and deconstructing the alien computers,” Shen informed. “Thanks to the cipher you provided, we’re making good progress on that, but it might be a while before anything substantial comes of it. In the meantime, our air force is finished upgrading. Our skyrangers can now hold eight soldiers, and our Ravens are armored and armed with a mix of laser and Gauss weaponry.”

“Excellent,” the Commander smiled. “That should keep us in the air game. Ask me if you have issues with the alien code, I’ll be able to translate.”

“I’ll do that,” Shen promised as he walked over to another table where blueprints were laying on. “I have one final matter to bring up with you, the MEC program.”

The Commander walked over and looked down at the blueprints. “More designs, I see. What do you have in mind?”

“We have MECs fill different roles,” Shen explained as he pointed at the blueprints. “Instead of utilizing them as simple humanoid fighting machines, we specialize them to suit different environments and battlefields.”

“So what we have now is a Marauder-class MEC,” the Commander noted as he looked at the blueprint and images of Myra suited up. “It looks a little different than what we have now.”

“Because it is,” Shen confirmed, pointing at the arms. “I’ve redesigned the Marauder to be a close-range, close-quarters, anti-infantry machine. You’ve seen what Myra was able to do with her flamethrowers, this is _designing_ her to do that without the risk of serious damage.”

“It is more armored,” the Commander noted. “Though that won’t be applicable for every situation. A more traditional soldier class isn’t a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t,” Shen agreed as he pulled out another blueprint. “So if I’m going to create one, it’s going to be the pinnacle of that concept.”

The Commander’s eyes widened as he looked at the dimensions for the MEC. “Is that even possible?” He asked, looking up at Shen. “It’s as tall as a small building! How is someone going to be able to pilot that, let alone transport it?”

“It’s called the Goliath for a reason,” Shen pointed out, amused. “The pilot will be encased in the middle of this MEC, more like an actual pilot and not as simple as suiting up. It’s possible, just…difficult. I’ve taken the transport issue into account. It will work with our current MEC transport, but it’ll have to be the only one.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t think small.”

“I think practical and useful,” Shen answered, pulling out a final blueprint. “Which is what inspired this last design. Remember when Van Doorn told us Herman’s breakdown of our military weaknesses?”

The Commander remembered all right. He’d been initially skeptical, but Herman had made several very good points and was now working on several of his own ideas to solve them. Not something he would have considered initially, but the Representative was actually proving be useful here, and for that the Commander was grateful.

“I remember,” the Commander nodded. “Prolonged engagements are a problem, was the main point, if I remember right.”

“That’s what I got out of it,” Shen pointed at the blueprint. “This is something that could help.”

The blueprints for this MEC made it seem the bulkiest of them all. There were several rocket launchers attached to the arms, micro-missile launchers on the shoulders and most obvious, a massive cannon attached to the back reminiscent of one very recognizable piece of military hardware. “Artillery,” the Commander noted, impressed. “I like it.”

“The Ballista-class MEC is designed for it,” Shen confirmed. “All the designs will need to be refined, but those are the plans. There is one issue, though.”

The Commander nodded. “We need pilots.”

“Yes,” Shen answered, growing grimmer. “And I would prefer we not ask our soldiers. Because some of them will actually volunteer, likely not comprehending the full scale of risks involved.”

That was an issue that Commander had been thinking about, and he’d come to the same conclusion. He didn’t want soldiers sacrificing their limbs and potentially, minds, just because he asked them too. But then he was left with the knowledge that he had technology that could change the war that was sitting dormant. They needed more MEC pilots.

Fortunately, he’d struck upon an idea. “There aren’t a shortage of wounded veterans,” he told Shen. “Many of whom are in good shape aside from missing a limb or two. I’d imagine there’d be a few that would jump at the change to take part in defending Earth.”

Shen rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully. “They would need to be told the risks…but…I suppose that would be acceptable. But I’m growing concerned that the process that turns them into pilots won’t be able to be fixed. Myra is stable…for now, but I’d hesitate to call her content or normal.”

“She knew the risks,” the Commander reminded him. “And so will any new pilots. Does this sound like a plan?”

Shen sighed. “Considering our limited options, it is the best option. MELD opened a Pandora’s Box and I sometimes wish I hadn’t developed this after seeing what happens to the pilots. But I did and will do my best to make sure it’s utilized to end this war as quickly as possible.”

The Commander nodded gravely. “That’s what we all hope for. Hard decisions are needed and they do change us, but that is what’s needed when faced with our extinction. No soldier lost in this war will be forgotten, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then I suppose I should get to work making this,” Shen said, turning back to the table. “Let me know if I should prepare the procedure for new pilots.”

The Commander inclined his head. “I’ll let you know soon.”

With that he left Shen to continue designing machines that would eventually win them the war. Even if the ending had been a little depressing, he in no way forgot what had preceded it. He grinned as he walked, the aliens and EXALT were going to be _very_ surprised the next time they met.

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

He had been initially concerned that he wouldn’t be able to do it, but the Commander had been relieved to find out that the dish Vahlen had suggested to him wasn’t that difficult or time consuming. He was under no illusions that it was _perfect_ , but he could follow a recipe perfectly well.

It had also given him some time to think as the meal cooked. Vahlen had likely managed to refine the gene mods to a state where he’d feel comfortable allowing soldiers to undergo genetic modification. At least that was what he was assuming, but he did privately wonder how Vahlen was going to take his request that he be the first one to receive them.

He figured it would be sufficient motivation for her to make sure all the kinks had been worked out, but as much as he trusted Vahlen, he couldn’t completely remove some of the apprehension that accompanied that decision. Should things go wrong, he’d end up like those test subjects in which case death would be preferable.

No. Vahlen knew what she was doing. He would have nothing to worry about. He knew it was irrational, but chalked up his apprehension to basic human fear of the unknown. Even he wasn’t immune to it, especially since he knew the consequences of it failing

As he walked through the Research Labs to the Gene Lab, he was once again reminded of all the progress they’d made here. Most of the scientists had turned in for the night, but a few were still up diligently working and not paying him any mind. He unlocked the door leading to the Gene Lab and stepped through and kept walking.

He shook his head as stepped into the exotic room. Vahlen hadn’t stopped collecting odd animals since the last time he’d been here. A large container containing a jellyfish and another one containing a crocodile now lined the wall to his right, so he walked over by the jellyfish contained which was illuminated by a deep blue light and watched the creature bob in the water.

It really was an interesting creature, and he wondered exactly what Vahlen wanted it for. Didn’t the jellyfish have some kind of amazing healing ability or was he misremembering? Regardless, he’d have to ask her about it.

“Is that for me?” He heard an incredulous Vahlen ask behind him and he turned with a smile to face her. She was wearing her regular lab coat and holding her tablet close to her arm.

He held out the plate. “Of course, this is what you requested, if I remember correctly.”

She took it after setting her tablet on a nearby table. “I can’t believe you remembered it,” she muttered as she started eating. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Hopefully it’s not too bad,” the Commander answered, glad she seemed to like it. “Besides, I think you deserve it.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “No more than you,” she commented, then pointed at the plate with her fork. “You want some?”

“No need,” the Commander shook his head. “That’s for you and I ate quite a bit in the kitchen.” He nodded back towards the tank of jellyfish. “But maybe you could explain _that_.”

She brightened. “A potential new kind of genetic modification,” she explained enthusiastically as she ate. “Jellyfish have amazing regeneration capabilities, and I wondered if that could be applied to our own soldiers to increase their own survivability in the field. Imagine injuries that take weeks to heal could take mere days!”

“Is this preliminary or have you started experiments?” The Commander asked.

“Preliminary,” she confirmed as she finished eating. “The last round of genetic experiments took a while, so before continuing new research opportunities, I wanted to ensure that is the direction you want our research to take.”

Well that was promising. “Then I assume that the first round of genetic mods is ready for use?”

She grinned. “Yes, Commander. Let me show you.” She made a move to walk towards the cells but the Commander held up a hand.

“Hold that for a moment,” he suggested. “I’d like to know about the elerium.”

“Ah,” she recalled. “I assume Shen told you about that? Yes, we don’t know much about how it works except that it can be used to generate a massive amount of energy,” she motioned around the room aimlessly. “It’s without a doubt the alien’s main power source. We’ve been finding small crystals of elerium in the power sources, computers and even the weapons. Unlocking its secrets could lead to an energy revolution the world has never seen!”

That was becoming a recurring theme. “That’s good to hear,” the Commander nodded. “But you would need to focus the majority of your people on it, which would take away from the gene program.”

Vahlen let out a sigh. “Yes, but I don’t have unlimited scientists, sadly.”

“I know,” the Commander assured her. “And what you’ve done has been extraordinary. What of your research into psionics?”

“Preliminary,” she admitted. “Patricia has complied with what I’ve asked of her, but I’m still not completely sure how to quantify the abilities she exhibits now, let alone replicate it on other soldiers.”

“She thinks she tapped into the alien psionic network,” the Commander remembered. “Perhaps that’s what triggered her.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Vahlen pointed out dismissively. “But we have no way to do that here. Not unless we recover a working alien device that can connect to this psionic network. I’m working on trying to simulate the brainwaves Patricia exhibits when she uses her abilities. They seem to be limited to psionic users, so it will be easy to detect, but triggering them is the hard part.”

“Would you be able to solve this if more resources were devoted towards it?” The Commander asked, crossing his arms.

Vahlen pursed her lips. “Honestly…not as much as you’d think. Our largest limiting factor is that Patricia is the only human to exhibit psionic abilities. If I had more, that would greatly help, but as far as I know, there are no others.”

“Unfortunately,” the Commander agreed with a sigh. “I’m sure we would have heard about a human with unusual abilities.”

“More working alien technology would be the greatest help,” Vahlen advised. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t rely on soldiers being careful when assaulting a UFO.”

The Commander smirked. “You’d have a hard time convincing them.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “I do wish they comprehended what they were destroying accidentally sometimes. We could be so much further ahead.”

“Don’t focus on that,” the Commander told her intently. “But I do want your professional opinion now. Where should we devote our resources?”

She thought for a moment. “The gene mods we have now should suffice for the time being, even if there is much room for innovation. Fully understanding the elerium would benefit XCOM greater at the moment, and potentially the rest of the world if this can be replicated.”

The Commander tended to agree. Elerium would have a greater range of use than more genetic mods, at least for now. “Then consider that approved,” he nodded towards her. “Let me know exactly what you need.”

“I’ll do that, Commander,” she assured him, then motioned him towards the cells. “Now, let me show you what I’ve done.”

They walked over towards the doors which slid open displaying the white room and glass cells. There were noticeably fewer test subjects here, but the ones that _were_ still there…some of them seemed different.

“I assumed you disposed of the failed experiments?” The Commander stated as they walked.

“Yes,” Vahlen nodded. “But don’t worry, Zhang told me about your plan for them. The bodies are in cold storage.”

The Commander nodded gratefully. They stopped in front of a cell with a man huddled in a corner, looking at them fearfully. Looking closer at him, the Commander noticed that his eyes were different, the irises were still brown, but were rimmed by a faint yellow. The pupil seemed unchanged, if a bit larger.

“We’ve tested him reading words from across the room,” Vahlen explained. “In addition to the various other tests, I’ve confirmed that this modification is a success.”

“No hitches or side effects?” The Commander asked.

“He took a few hours to orient himself and threw up multiple times,” Vahlen answered with a shrug. “Honestly, that was expected. I do think it’s somewhat unfortunate that we’ll have to dispose of them. If only there was a way to use them safely.”

Yes, that was something the Commander hadn’t liked about this whole situation. Even if these people were criminals, it felt wrong to throw away a potential resource like that, even if they couldn’t be relied upon.

But he _had_ wondered.

“Have you looked into applying MELD in the brain?” He asked Vahlen, turning to her. She bit her lip and looked up.

“Somewhat,” she answered. “It would have to be done very delicately, and would likely require multiple subjects to create a modification, no matter how small.”

“A question,” the Commander asked finally. “The greatest issue we have with using these people is there unreliability. Would it be possible to…rewire the brain to either be loyal or at least prevent betrayal?”

She blinked at that, clearly that possibility had never occurred to her. “A real-life Manchurian Candidate,” she breathed as her eyes lit up. “I…had never considered the possibility.”

“Maybe think on it some,” the Commander suggested. “It might be useful in more ways than one.”

“Yes, yes,” Vahlen muttered under her breath, then shook her head. “Anyway, let’s move on.” She walked to the cell a few feet further. This one contained another man who looked unchanged. Although the Commander noticed that he looked unusually solid, almost as if he was on strength enhancing steroids.

“I was able to sort out the issue of muscle density,” Vahlen explained, as she tapped on the glass and opened up the intercom. “Jump!”

With no hesitation the man nodded fearfully, bent his knees and jumped at least ten feet high and landed without any trouble at all. The Commander blinked in amazement, this was honestly more than he’d hoped for. “Amazing. Is there a limit to how far they can fall?”

“Not measured,” Vahlen answered slowly. “But I’d imagine that they have a cushion of at least twice what can be jumped. Humans can usually survive falls twice their height in a normal jump, so I’d imagine the same rules apply here. I doubt he’d survive jumping out of a skyscraper, but off a house a couple of stories high? Absolutely.”

“Well done,” the Commander complimented, liking the advancements immensely. “What next?”

“I’d show you the subject we were able to get the secondary heart working with,” Vahlen answered nonchalantly. “But you wouldn’t be able to tell, but we’ve managed it excellently. However, I do think this is my greatest work.” She stopped in front of another cell, this one with another man inside.

There was a distinct alteration to this subject. The body seemed dotted with almost imperceptible black dots, bristles almost on closer inspection. But unless you were specifically looking for differences, they were much harder to notice than he’d guessed. “I assume this is your spider subject?”

“Yes,” she stated, obviously pleased as she opened an intercom to the subject. “Climb.”

The man nodded and somehow the Commander was still surprised when the man actually started climbing up the glass wall easily. It looked very odd, but the Commander was growing ecstatic at the possibilities these gene mods were going to allow him. Once the man reached about halfway up the glass wall, he looked down, and pushed off.

He hit the ground with a thud, but otherwise seemed unharmed. “Impressive,” the Commander commented. “It looks like wall-climbing abilities weren’t the only improvement.”

“A side effect,” Vahlen confirmed. “I doubt he could survive the falls the other subject could, but falls that would hurt a normal human wouldn’t to him. Strength was also a side effect of both mods. Both men are stronger than any human, this one a bit more so.”

“I know I’ve said this before,” the Commander shook his head, smiling. “But you’ve outdone yourself here. Thank you.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “You allowed this to happen. I made it happen, sure, but you were the one who believed I could do it, no matter what it took. I need to thank you for that.”

He put his own hand over hers, keeping it there for a few seconds. “Well, I hope you’re ready for your first recipient.” He said after a few moments.

She gave him a warm smile. “You have people already planned?”

“A few,” he revealed. “But I’m going to be the first one.”

She blinked. “ _You_?”

“Of course,” he reminded her. “If you think it’s ready for soldiers, it should be ready for me.”

“Right, it is,” she agreed nervously. “But you’re different, if something goes wrong-“

“Moira, I trust you,” he interrupted gently. “And I know you won’t make any mistakes here.”

“Probably not,” she agreed, looking down. “But if something does, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“Then don’t put yourself in that position,” he suggested. “You’re not going to mess up here and you’re going to have to do it anyway before applying it to any soldiers.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “I hate when you try and be noble.”

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Noble? I like to think it’s _practical_.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Well, if I must do this, I might as well get it over with. When do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I’ll get my staff ready,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked up. “Which mods do you want?”

“Enhanced vision, the secondary heart and muscle fiber density,” the Commander answered. “I’d imagine some are mutually exclusive.”

 “Yes,” she confirmed. “But none of the ones you mentioned are. If you’ve wanted the climbing mod, it would conflict with the muscle fiber mod.”

“Well,” the Commander let out a breath. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Sit tight,” she advised as she made her way out. “I’ll prepare.” With that she left him, leaving his with the company of genetically altered criminals. Well, this should be interesting.

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

_“In conclusion, I believe that these weapons will perform exceptionally,”_ Tygan updated her, the scientist’s hologram looking as professional as ever. _“Field testing is the final stage, and Overseer Eridan as assured me that will be taken care of.”_

Saudia nodded in satisfaction. Excellent, EXALT would have laser weaponry and level the playing field against XCOM. Tygan had performed exceptionally, and especially in such a short amount of time. “I’m pleased to hear that,” she told him. “Have you worked on integrating the alien metals with our current armor?”

 _“I have,”_ he confirmed, looking down at his tablet and scrolling through it. _“While I have not developed a prototype to my satisfaction, I am confident that issue will be solved relatively soon.”_

“Make that your next priority,” Saudia ordered. “It’s imperative that our soldiers survive against the alien weapons.”

Tygan inclined his head. _“Of course, Director. I have also informed Overseer Eridan about the possibility of genetically modifying soldiers. I believe that we can use this melding substance recovered from the aliens to increase the human body’s strength, endurance, reaction time and durability. With your approval, I could begin inquiries into this line of research.”_

Saudia pursed her lips. “I assume you would need test subjects.”

He blinked, showing a rare moment of surprise. _“Test subjects? No, Director, not at all. I did not mean to imply they would be needed.”_

She was somewhat surprised at his reaction, until she remembered that he was still under the impression that this was a legitimate organization that followed typical rules and regulations. Test subjects weren’t a big deal to her, but he was clearly uncomfortable with them. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a problem. “No offense taken,” she assured him. “Though that does beg the question or how you _will_ test and create these…genetic mods.”

 _“Carefully and safely,”_ he assured her calmly. _“I will not develop anything that is a threat to the recipient. Once I’m confident that the procedure is safe, I will only take volunteers, with your approval, of course.”_

“Then proceed as you need,” she said after a few seconds. “But we are on a limited timeframe. Should you feel that you need to… _ignore_ certain protocols, you have my permission to do what it takes. The survival of humanity supersedes all. Understand?”

He nodded firmly. _“Yes, Director. I will work to ensure that option does not need to be considered.”_

“Good luck, Doctor.” She told him, then reached over and ended the call. His hologram vanished a few seconds later and she sighed. One call out of the way, one more to go. She sincerely hoped Elizabeth had a good explanation planned for her, because if that was the best thing her team could do against XCOM, then there were issues.

She entered the number and a few moments later, the hologram of Elizabeth appeared. The EXALT Spymaster had her dark hair pulled back and wore the typical Falka clothing, which was far less formal than any other EXALT family uniforms. Elizabeth tended to wear a black leather jacket with the EXALT logo embroidered on the upper right chest.

It had always struck Saudia as unprofessional, but she didn’t have an issue with it as long as they performed well. “Elizabeth,” she greeted cordially.

She inclined her head. _“Director, I assume you would like an explanation?”_

How _very_ perceptive of her. “Yes,” Saudia let out slowly, putting some ice in her tone. “When you said you would wage a propaganda war on XCOM, I was under the assumption that it would be a _successful_ one. Not one that would be exposed before twenty-four hours had passed. You failed.”

Elizabeth had the grace to wince. _“You would have a point, Director, but as I believe I explained before, I wanted to test the waters before beginning the full campaign. What I released was a test, to see how XCOM would react. I need to know how well they can counter what we put out.”_

“We do not have _time_ for that,” Saudia stated coldly. “You’ve had ample time to prepare something more than _this_. But since you’ve done it, I should hope you gained something useful from this.”

 _“I have,”_ Elizabeth assured her with a quick nod. _“XCOM will not go down without a fight, and whoever they have in charge of counterintelligence and PR is good. Very good.”_

Saudia’s nostrils flared. “Really. I assume there is _no_ other way you could assume that for yourself?”

Elizabeth seemed to realize that she was not entirely pleased with that explanation. _“I could assume, but that’s all-“_

“Enough.” Saudia cut off, raising a fist, shutting her up promptly. “ _I_ could have told you XCOM would have staffed someone competent, that is the _reason_ we’re acting against them in the _first_ place. You’ve wasted valuable time confirming something _you should have assumed to begin with._ ”

Elizabeth flinched. _“Director, I cannot work effectively without solid evidence one way or another. We both know management is a numbers game, and XCOM is not the only operation I’m running at the moment. Now I know exactly how many-“_

“Listen, Spymaster Falka,” Saudia interrupted, sharpening her tone so the message got through to her. “ _XCOM_ is now your priority. _Resources_ should not be an issue here with your directive clear. And in case you want solid _numbers_ , assume that whoever is running XCOM Intelligence, or whatever counter-intelligence they have, is smarter than you.”

Saudia began pacing in front of the increasingly nervous women. “You’ve already caused a major operation in Germany to fail because of your negligence, and have now sabotaged our objective, intentionally or not, to discredit and defame XCOM. This incident has _strengthened_ their public image and _now_ they will retaliate forcing _us_ on the defensive.”

She stopped walking and faced the woman, staring daggers into her green eyes. “At best, these are mistakes, at worst, they are incompetence. I understand the stress of your position, but this is growing into a problem, Spymaster. I dislike making ultimatums, but you’ve forced my hand here. Fail again, and I will insist that you be removed from your position as Spymaster, and Head of the Falka Family.”

There was dead silence.

Elizabeth swallowed visibly. That threat was rarely invoked, but when it was it was almost never disputed. It was certainly rare for the head of a family to be removed, but each time it happened it was warranted. Elizabeth knew that, and now knew the extent of her failure. There was no question whether Saudia would follow through on her threat, that she’d stated it at all was confirmation enough.

She swallowed again. _“I understand, Director. I will not fail again.”_

Saudia pursed her lips. “We’ll see. Is there anything else you can update me on?”

 _“We’re tracking Subject Four’s trail,”_ Elizabeth updated, relieved to be moving to a different topic. _“As we suspected, she is heading toward France. She’s going about it smart too, a mix of planes, trains, taxis, not strictly to obvious places either. Her misdirection is admirable, but we know where she is going.”_

“I assume you have people watching her boyfriend?” Saudia asked.

Elizabeth would have probably made a smart comment at that, but given the circumstances, she answered seriously. _“Of course. If the phone call we recovered between them was accurate, he’ll be contacted. He’ll know if his devices have been tampered, so I’ve had people watch him and utilize tracking devices. We’ll know if he goes anywhere suspicious.”_

“And your plan is to let them meet?” Saudia assumed.

 _“It would be ideal,”_ Elizabeth answered. _“Once they both meet, we can capture both of them. We can use her boyfriend as leverage in case she tries to escape again. She won’t do anything if he gets hurt.”_

“Good thinking,” Saudia acknowledged. “Hopefully they’ll make contact within a few days or sooner. Anything else.”

 _“I actually should ask you that,”_ Elizabeth finally answered after a pause. _“You saw the North Korea broadcast, yes?”_

Saudia nodded.

 _“We need an update,”_ Elizabeth insisted. _“Your agent needs to let us know what’s going on. They seem more dangerous than I anticipated.”_

“I’ll attempt that,” Saudia promised. “But we both know how hard it is to get information out. We can’t risk our only agent for anything less than an impending attack.”

Elizabeth sighed. _“I suppose so. But we should deal with this sooner than later.”_

“Leave North Korea to me,” Saudia told her. “Now I think we both need to get back to work. Fix your mistakes.”

Elizabeth bowed her head. _“Yes, Director. You’ll see results shortly.”_

The hologram vanished, leaving her in the room alone. Time to get to work, more psionic subjects were needed, regardless if they ended up recapturing Subject Four. They couldn’t waste more time, and the scientists were just going to have to do their best.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

It was getting easier.

As Patricia sat alone at the table, her eyes closed, she just concentrated on the burst, waves and consistency of emotions from the soldiers around her. It was instinctive now, when her eyes were opened she could easily pinpoint a specific person’s mind by just concentrating on the general area. Each person was unique, and that made it easier to pinpoint who she sense.

She was also getting much better at picking out full thoughts when she concentrated, now she could filter out the meaningless noise and hear full sentences, images and emotions, most of which were intertwined with each other.

It was interesting just how differently people thought from each other. Some just thought in plain sentences, like words in a book, reading from left to right. Others visualized by creating an image in their head and playing out the thought inside it. But one thing that was consistent was that there was always _meaning_ behind the thought; it was always accompanied by whatever emotion had been attached to that particular thought. Anger, joy, happiness, terror, accusation, it was clear to her now. Words were just noise, it was the emotions behind them that gave them meaning.

To her annoyance, it still happened much too randomly for her liking. When she finally could read a thought, it was pretty much never her intention. It was accidental and was now happening completely on its own, even if she wasn’t trying to listen.

That was becoming more apparent to her now. She was beginning to understand, but not quite able to concentrate specifically on one specific mind, go into it and understand everything, access memories and thoughts. But that would hopefully change soon, since now she thought she knew how to figure it out.

Now she needed someone to test with. Luckily she could sense him coming up behind her. She was so familiar with his presence that she could detect wherever he was in the Citadel. On this level she knew him better than anyone ever could, she could sense things no one would have guessed otherwise. One being that no matter what emotion she sensed from him primarily, it was always accompanied by something else, a long suppressed fear.

Of what she could only guess at, but whatever it was, it was old, long ago and embedded so deep she wasn’t sure he was aware of it anymore. She wondered how exactly she could broach _that_ particular topic, even though she’d tried going into his mind many times, it seemed almost too personal.

Still, that wasn’t the only interesting thing she’d sensed. He’d likely never admit it to anyone, but he was very protective of people he cared about. When she’d first noticed it, she’d wondered if it was exclusive to _her,_ and hadn’t exactly known how to feel about it. But upon further examination…it was just a part of his mindset, not exclusive to her, though she was certain she was included in that category.

It was odd, she would have never pegged him as the protective type when they’d first met. What she’d assumed was arrogance when they’d had their first one-on-one talk on the sparring floor, might have instead been his way of demonstrating that, teaching her stuff to keep her alive.

Well, even if she was perfectly capable to taking care of herself, she did find it sweet that he considered her that important. Though it was likely bound to happen given what she was doing to him, it couldn’t really get more personal than that. But it did give her some pause about what she might find if she went digging around in his mind.

His unusually protective instincts, combined with some kind of ingrained fear, didn’t lead to many positive combinations. The most likely explanation was that he’d experienced some kind of trauma, likely in his childhood, if that fear was as deep and suppressed as it seemed. Further proof was that he seemed well-adjusted _now_ , so he’d likely gotten over any mental trauma years ago.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly something she really wanted to _ask_ , for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because she didn’t know for sure, even if she believed what she sensed was accurate.

“You intentionally trying to distract me?” She said, as she sensed him behind her. There was a brief flash of amusement from him and she opened her eyes and let the ethereal maze of minds fade into the background.

“Not intentionally,” Creed chuckled as he circled around and sat opposite her. “You must be getting better if you could tell it was me.”

She shook her head, partially to visibly disagree and partially to pull her mind back into the present. “I can sense you whenever I want. You stand out to me so it wasn’t hard to know you were coming up.”

His lips twitched as his expression stayed deliberately neutral. “I suppose that makes sense, I’m mostly been on the receiving end of your practice.”

She for once couldn’t tell what he was feeling from him expression, and she didn’t sense any sort of accusation of anger from him. But definitely suppression of some kind. “Does that bother you?” She asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just…” he waved his hand aimlessly. “Sense it to get the answer?”

“I am,” she stated immediately, then winced. “Sorry, I can’t help it now. But it’s not really helpful. Whatever you’re feeling you’re putting it down.”

A wan smile appeared on his face. “Well, even if I _was_ , I don’t exactly have the right to complain. I _did_ agree to this after all.”

She frowned. That wasn’t a good explanation or a reason for him to _not_ voice concerns. “You would tell me if you didn’t want to continue, yes?” She asked, leaning forward, looking into his eyes intently. “Trust me, it would be fine. But I don’t want to force you to do this because you feel you have too.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I haven’t changed my mind about any of it. But it’s just a little odd for me. A large part of my job involved people not knowing where I was. The idea that you can do that whenever you want will take some getting used to.”

She was relieved that was it, even though she could understand exactly why he felt that way. She hoped that he realized that it wasn’t _constant_. “It’s not like a GPS telling me where you are at all times.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, amusement and resignation rolling off him in equal measure. “You can sense me just by concentrating for a few seconds, yes? That accomplishes the same thing, more or less.”

That wasn’t that inaccurate. “Fair point,” she acknowledged. “Sorry.”

“Well, not much either of us can do about it,” Creed said dismissively. “Besides, if there’s someone who can somehow always find me, I’m fine with it being you.”

She smiled. “Thanks,”

“So if you _can_ pick me out so well, have you figured out how to directly…” he motioned to his head. “ _Read_ my mind, I guess.”

Patricia pursed her lips. “That’s actually what I want to test out. I’m getting better at it, but it’s random and unsolicited. I haven’t been able to do it consciously yet, it’s just sort of… _happened_.”

“Happened,” Creed repeated with a nod. “Huh, so it’s sort of like the whole reading emotions thing, it just started happening and you couldn’t stop it.”

“Sort of,” Patricia answered, after a pause. “I think I know how to replicate it now, so I guess now’s as good a time as any to try reading your mind. Up for it?”

“Sure, why not?” Creed commented, half sarcastically. “So…anything in particular you want me to focus on?”

“No,” Patricia advised as she closed her eyes. “Just…relax, I guess.”

She heard him snort. “Will do, perfectly doable.”

She suspected he was being sarcastic again, but it was fading as she closed in on his unique mind. This time instead of just trying to understand what was coming from it in the midst of all the other distractions, she instead envisioned a bubble around it, cut off from the wider world, limiting her perception just to his mind.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, a few words and phrases appeared in her mind as well as a couple images, but nothing solid yet. The atmosphere around her seemed much more grounded now, even if she had no corporal form here. Although…

What was stopping her? She had control over everything here, and a form might help ground her more. She concentrated and actually _looked_ around the blackness she was in. The perspective was essentially unchanged, except that when she looked down, she could _see_ her body, as if she was actually physically here.

Things seemed to be taking more of a shape around her, not in regular forms, but in lights, noises and images. She listened and heard what sounded like words coming in the distance. Time had no meaning here, so she just envisioned herself at the source and found herself in front of black door.

It was oddly metaphorical, and not what she’d expected. But she assumed this was her mind’s way of creating visualizations for stuff that otherwise couldn’t be quantified. Without waiting further, she opened the door and words started appearing in her mind, writing themselves out as if in a word processing program.

_She’s been that way for fifteen minutes? Is she still awake?_

The voice that accompanied it was clearly Creed’s. It made sense that he’d think in his own voice, she did the same thing and suspected almost everyone did. Blinking in her ethereal form, she realized that she was actually envisioning the words out in front of her, not simply inside her head. Furthermore, some of them seemed different, words were emphasized, bolded or otherwise _marked_ , and she suddenly realized that was the underlying emotions accompanying each thought, in this case, curiosity and concern.

Driven by an instinctive curiosity, she focused in on the word _awake_ and was suddenly assaulted by an image of her, eyes closed and everything, from the perspective of Creed. The image was static, though she thought she saw the air was distorted around her.

It was then she realized that she hadn’t heard _anything_ from him since she’d focused on that one thought? Had she accidentally stopped his thought process, or was he continuing on and she hadn’t noticed? She made the words disappeared and a tightening she hadn’t realized was there vanished and she continued letting the thoughts continue.

Now Creed was amused, if the new thought that appeared to her was any indication. _“Maybe I should test that out, ha. Maybe snap my fingers in front of her or something._ This was accompanied by the sudden vision of her, still from Creed’s perspective, snapping his fingers in front of her and she suddenly leapt out of her chair with an overly dramatic shout of surprise.

Patricia snorted. Clearly, she was seeing some kind of scene created in Creed’s head. It was a little funny though, and she let out a chuckle.

 _Oh wait, now she’s…smiling? Huh?_ Now the image that appeared in front of her appeared to actually be real, and showed her in the same position she’d been in, though now with a faint smile on her face.

Interesting, it seemed that her feelings here _did_ seem to transition to the real world. Creed’s thoughts continued unabated.

 _Was that a coincidence? Nah, I’d probably know if someone was in my head._ There was a sense of assurance here. _It happened when she brought back those memories, I knew something was off. This’ll be similar._

Huh, also useful for her to know. So it seemed that he _had_ sensed that something was off, but wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t expected it. Now it seemed that she could access his thoughts without him knowing.

_Let’s see how long it’s…the Hell? No way ten minutes passed unless…”_

Ah, not good. Time to see if her theory of stopping thoughts worked. She pulled up the thought in progress and looked at the words in front of her. So, she could see them, as well as every single minute detail that could be imagined.

Now…

What if she could change them?

She waved her hand as if clearing a board and the letters vanished, but she knew that whatever words she wanted would appear. _Puppies._ She envisioned. _Puppies are very, very cute._

That done, she released hold of the thought and wanted to see where he went with it. She almost burst out laughing at how things initially proceeded without a hitch.

 _Puppies are very, very cute,_ he thought, made even funnier by the sincerity that came along with it. _It’s too bad they didn’t really have them on base. German Shepherds are nice, good breed. Actually, no, Retrievers are better. Yeah, more friendly, a golden retriever would be nice to have, maybe when I get out. Provided we win the war of course._

He really did seem to be going along with that, and she was initially concerned that she had accidentally corrupted his mind to think about nothing but puppies. _I wonder where Galia got her dog, probably given to her by the Israelis. Wonder how that all works exactly._ His emotions changed to surprise, then confusing. _Wait. Why the hell am I thinking about puppies when Patricia is trying to read my mind? God, I hope she didn’t get in yet. Sorry Patricia if you’re listening, I’m trying to take this seriously._

She almost laughed at that and it gave her the perfect exit point. She waited for that thought to finish and then froze the next one before stating what she wanted him to think. _Apology accepted, Creed._

Hopefully that would be clear enough. She released that thought then pulled out completely and opened her eyes, her entire body starting violently as she returned to the real world.

Creed was staring at her, wariness and shock rolling off of him. “Was that…?”

 _“Apology accepted?”_ she quoted, feeling oddly tired. “Yeah, you got it?”

“I…” He answered slowly, blinking rapidly. “ _You_ …made that happen?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “The whole puppy tangent was me too, I made that appear and you just went with it until you realized something was off.”

“I _didn’t_ know something was off,” he admitted. “I just thought that…well, you know. I guess…this was a success then?”

“I think so,” Patricia nodded, feeling more energetic after realizing what she’d accomplished. She’d actually read another person’s mind and what’s more, _altered_ the thoughts to make them seem their own.

And with that, the realization of just how dangerous that ability was crashed down on her. With this little experiment, she had possibly become the most dangerous and powerful person in the world. If she really wanted to…she could control anyone she wanted, make them puppets without them ever knowing it wasn’t them.

She could alter their perception, their mindset, to whatever she wanted to. Sure, it could maybe be as innocent as making someone think about puppies, or it could force a person to contemplate murder or suicide.

Her sudden realizations must have shown on her face because she looked at her intently, nothing but concern and seriousness coming off him. “I guess you’ve guessed the implications of this.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, shivering. “What should I do?”

“Tell the Commander, for starters,” Creed stated immediately. “He needs to know what you can do now. But…well, what you do with this is something no one but you has control over. But…please be careful. Don’t use it on anymore else unless absolutely necessary, that’s what I’m here for if you want to experiment.”

“But what if I do something to you?” She demanded, sounding far most accusing than she’d intended. But she was legitimately concerned about further meddling. “What happens if I accidentally change something about you? Or worse, kill you? I don’t know _how_ far this can go. I don’t want to cause you to go insane because _I_ wanted more power!”

Her voice broke at the end, and she slumped onto the table. “I’m not the right person to have this power,” she whispered. “I’m just a soldier.”

She heard Creed get up and sit down beside her. “And who is the right person?” He asked quietly, as he put his arm around her which she gratefully accepted. “A politician? General? Commander? A homeless man? Can anyone really be trusted with this?”

She took a breath, and sat up a bit more. It was unlike her to be this…distraught, but she was worried about the risk she now posed, even more so than before. “Maybe not,” she answered. “But I now pose a risk to everyone. Who would stop me if I turned?”

“Stop.” He told her firmly, his face hard as she looked up at him. “Stop this worst-case scenario planning. It sometimes endearing, but you take this _way_ too far sometimes. The fact that you’re worried about this is a reason you’re the right person to wield this power. You’re a good woman, Patricia. You’re not going to suddenly turn on us for power.”

His words were reasonable and she nodded several times. “Alright. But…”

“No,” Creed interrupted. “No buts. You’re getting worked up for no reason. Everyone trusts you, and so do I. The Commander himself trusts you to not screw things up, so I’d think he knows what he’s doing.”

“Fine,” Patricia nodded. “But we’re working to a new objective now. There has to be some way for people to defend against what I did, and that’s what we need to work on now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Creed nodded. “Take some time to recover, I’ll go with you to the Commander when you tell him. He’ll likely want to question me anyway.”

“That sounds good,” Patricia agreed. “I wonder how he’ll take the news?”

“Knowing him…” Creed answered. “I’d say reasonably. Though I’d suggest not proving it to him by reading his mind.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.”

***

_The Citadel, Gene Lab_

_…Commander…..up….see…_

The Commander groaned and opened his eyes as he heard Vahlen’s muffled voice. Everything blinded him initially, the glaring white lights overwhelming his sense, he raised an arm to block it out, and realized that there was some kind of tube attached to it. Several hands helped him step out of the tube that he’d been put into after Vahlen had prepped him for genetic modification.

His eyes adjusted better after a half-minute, and with the light now dimmer, he looked down on his arms to see two yellow tubes attached to an implant just below his shoulder. Vahlen and another scientist came up and unplugged the tubes from her arms. “How are you feeling?” Vahlen asked as she looked him over.

“Everything is bright,” the Commander answered, still closing his eyes closed for the moment. “But other than that, I’m fine. Do you have some clothes?”

Aside from some underwear, Vahlen had ordered him strip everything off before beginning the genetic modification, and as the sensations came back to him, he realized his was covered with a sappy, yellowish substance which he assumed was MELD residue. “Spray him down!” Vahlen called.

“Ah, where-“ The Commander began, not wanting to get sprayed in the face, but was cut off when two streams of water hit him from the sides. He just sighed and let them methodically wash the residue off him which flowed into a drain on the floor.

Once the water stopped, he shook his head and opened his eyes. He could tell Vahlen was in front of him, but was blurry and out of focus. Sort of what he expected if he needed glasses. The light was no longer piercing, but this wasn’t a good start. “Everything is blurry,” he told her, keeping his tone neutral.

“That’s normal,” she assured him, handing him a towel which he began using to dry himself off. “Your eyes will need some time to adjust.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he muttered. Rolling his shoulders, testing out the rest of his body. Now that he was a bit more conscious, he noticed a drastic difference in how he actually _felt_. He felt unmistakably stronger, but his reflexes also seemed much faster, even in his state his movements felts much smoother and he was used to. He’d never been clumsy, but he knew his strengths and agility wasn’t one of them.

 _Ah_. His vision suddenly became clear for a split second, before going back to blurriness. “I think it’s adjusting,” he told Vahlen. “But I feel better now, stronger.”

“Your pupils are extremely dilated,” Vahlen noted, as she handed him a pile of clothes. “Have you tried looking far away?”

Hmm, well he had nothing else to test at the moment, and looked across the room. He blinked in surprise and he saw the far door as clearly as if it was right in front of him. There were a list of regulations beside the door and to his amazement, he could read them as clearly as if he was standing in front of it.

It seemed to be that his vision more or less “zoomed” to wherever he wanted to see. Since there was no other way he could read the list as clearly as he did. “Your list at the door has twenty-one listings, yes?” He asked, just to be sure.

He could see her blink and hear the excitement in her voice. “Yes, you can read that?”

“I can,” he answered, looking at the list. “Rule fifteen covers proper handling of lab specimens, right?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “It worked!”

He looked back at her, and consciously tried to focus in on her. His vision blurred, and finally focused in on her and he could see her clearly. He’d thought his vision before was good, but this _had_ to be beyond 20/20 vision because he could see details about Vahlen he’d never noticed before.

Frayed threads on her uniform, single hairs out of place, minute expressions so tiny they would be imperceptible to anyone with normal vision. It was like living in 720p your whole life and suddenly being upgraded to 1080p. “This is amazing,” he muttered, looking around the rest of the lab. “I can see _everything_.”

The three scientists to the right that had helped Vahlen exchanged ecstatic looks and gave each other high-fives and satisfied smiles and hugs. To the left stood Zhang, Bradford and Van Doorn and Shen, who politely applauded Vahlen who looked at the Commander with a large genuine smile on her face.

“Congratulations, Vahlen,” Shen complemented, walking up to her. “I couldn’t have done it better.”

“You’ve changed the way war will be waged,” Van Doorn added, while the Commander got dressed with the clothes Vahlen had given him. “Human super-soldiers have been envisioned since the beginning of warfare, but you’ve actually done it. You deserve recognition.”

“Let me get a scan quickly, Commander,” one of the scientists said, coming up with a tablet which she held up to his body. “We need to confirm the secondary heart is working.”

The Commander nodded, and fiddled with the attachment on his arm. “Is this coming off?”

“No,” Vahlen told him, shaking her head. “We’ll need it in case you need additional treatment or want to genetically modify you more.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander acknowledged. If this was the only price he had to pay, if seemed more than worth it, and it wouldn’t really hinder him in the first place.

“Everything is working fine,” the scientist told Vahlen. “Both hearts are in sync.”

“Excellent!” Vahlen stated. “Now, one more test. Commander?”

He smiled and looked around. What would be an appropriate test? The enhanced muscle density was something he wanted to push the limits of. He’d seen a man jump at least ten feet high, so…hmm…

He looked up at the beams at the top of the high-ceilinged lab. He estimated they were at least fifteen or twenty feet high. Perfect. “Let’s test this out,” he told Vahlen and walked out roughly under a beam, then looked up, bent his knees, coiling up like a spring.

Then jumped.

He sped through the air, within a few seconds the beam was in front of him and he grasped the beam and hung from it. A childlike feeling of wonder filled him and he laughed as he looked down at everyone under him, laughing in sheer disbelief and joy that this was even possible.

He was also holding himself up with little energy, even less that what it had taken him to initially jump up here. Alright, now was the main test. But Vahlen’s work had allowed him to jump this high, give him incredible vision and another heart. Thus he felt no fear when he let go and dropped.

He sped towards the ground and hit it with a thud, perfectly upright, the impact barely worse than what he’d felt when dropping a couple of feet before his enhancement. He raised a fist and whooped in joy as he approached the group who was cheering and applauding. He hadn’t felt this way in years.

 _Fun_. There was no other word to describe jumping twenty feet in the air and dropping like a feather. “That was amazing,” he told Vahlen, pulling her into a hug which she returned enthusiastically. “Thank you.”

“We’ve done it,” Vahlen said into his shoulder. “It worked. It was worth it.”

“That we did,” he told her, stepping back and facing them all. “This is a major achievement, no question about that. But the war is by no means won.” He paused.

“Yet.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “But this will enable us to face the alien threat and annihilate it once in for all. We have the technology at our disposal and it’s time to take full advantage of it.”

He nodded towards Bradford. “You’ve received my list of candidates for genetic modification. Schedule times for me to meet with them. Shun as well, I need to resolve that issue now. Begin compiling a list of viable veterans for MEC conversion. It’s time we ramp up this war to the next level.”

They all saluted. “It will be done,” Bradford assured him.

The Commander nodded at him. “Then let’s get to work.”

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

He was feeling pretty good at the moment. There was little that could happen that would ruin this day, which he knew he was jeopardizing just by thinking it. But things hadn’t turned out this well for…well, a long time. All that would really cap off this day would be this issue with Shun be sorted out without issue.

Luckily, she’d responded quickly and was actually waiting outside now. He opened the door and the Chinese agent stepped through in her XCOM fatigues, her expression apparently neutral and the Commander wouldn’t have been able to tell what she was thinking, had he had the sight of a normal human.

The minute twitches, pupil fluctuations, and subtle twitching of her fingers seemed to indicate she was either nervous about this, or apprehensive. “Specialist Anwei,” he greeted cordially, indicating the seat across from him.

She took it, keeping her hands on her lap. “Commander,” she greeting, her voice as neutral as her face tried to be. “What can I do for you?”

“No need to be nervous,” he told her. “You’re not in trouble.”

He saw the faintest flash of relief cross her face. “That’s good to know.”

He gave a faint grin. “Why would you be concerned about that?”

She frowned. “Permission to speak freely?”

The Commander sighed, but gave an answer. “Just consider that a given, go ahead.”

Shun hesitated. “I’d think the answer would be fairly obvious, Commander. I’m not blind to my position. I come from China’s Intelligence agency, you are American, and are naturally suspicious of my people, not to mention Chinese and XCOM relations aren’t the best, so I’ve heard.”

“Perceptive,” the Commander nodded. “I found it interesting that the Chinese neglected to mention specifics of your work in the file they provided me.”

Shun blinked, and she seemed genuinely confused. “I do not understand? What was incomplete?”

“The report specified your work in counter-terrorism,” the Commander answered, handing her a tablet with the report the Chinese had sent. “But I think they neglected to mention your _other_ work against the Triad.”

Shun’s expression darkened as she read it. “Why?” She wondered out loud. “That…that was the majority of my work. Were they not satisfied with me?”

“I have suspicions,” the Commander told her. “But I would like you to guess why the Chinese would feel the need to strike that from your file.”

 “Perhaps they thought it would cause trouble?” She wondered, sounding lost and her voice toneless. “But even that doesn’t make sense. How could my work cause trouble?”

“You’re right,” the Commander told her, and her head snapped up and she frowned. “Causing trouble is the reason I believe those particular details were struck. But not for the reasons you think. If any trouble will be caused, you will determine the extent of it.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Explain?”

“You spent a good portion of your time hunting the Triad,” the Commander repeated. “The short version is that Shaojie Zhang is the Director of XCOM Intelligence.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “ _What_?”

“I think it’s self-explanatory,” the Commander answered, raising a hand. “Before your accusations, I would like to explain how he came to be here. He contacted the Council and offered to give them an alien device in exchange for protection from the Triad. XCOM extracted him and he followed through on his end of the deal. In addition to the alien device, he also provided everything he had on the Triad. I believe you are familiar with that part of the story.”

“I knew it,” Shun muttered.

“The Council attempted to back out of the deal,” the Commander continued. “After all, he was nothing but a criminal. I ignored the Council and allowed him into XCOM, my reasoning was that we had offered him protection and I follow through on my deals. The second reason is that he has extensive espionage experience and we needed everyone we can to fight against the aliens.”

“But…him?” Shun demanded. “Was there no one else?”

“There were likely other options, but I have neither the time, nor resources to find them all,” the Commander answered, his tone turning harder. “We are in a war for our survival. That means working with people who otherwise not be considered. Zhang has performed exceptionally for us, and was the reason Shanghai is not reduced to rubble today.”

“Did they know about this?” Shun demanded. “Did the Chinese know he was here?”

“The Council knows Zhang is still with us,” the Commander shrugged. “China is on the Council, so at least a few people know. I cannot speak for your superiors, but based on the fact that you were chosen, and essential elements of your past were erased, I would assume they did know.”

“Why?” She wondered. “What could they gain from this?”

“You noted XCOM and Chinese relations are strained,” the Commander told her. “That is not incorrect. I can only assume that they meant you to find out from a source other than me and likely cause issue, publicly or otherwise.”

“They used me as a pawn,” she hissed, now seeming to grow angry. “I was not sent here to play _politics_. I was sent to defend my country and our planet. They _told_ me that!”

The Commander felt a sense of vindication at that. Provided that she wasn’t faking this, and it didn’t appear so, this attempt by the Chinese to sow dissent in the ranks was going to backfire spectacularly. “I am the same way, Specialist Anwei. Which is why I need to know if this is going to cause issues. If you can work with XCOM, possibly with Zhang himself, without issues, then things will be fine. But if this will be a problem, I will ensure you return to China safely with my recommendation.”

She pursed her lips. “Zhang is a deplorable man who deserves to answer for his crimes. That will not change, but we were both manipulated here. I will not give them the satisfaction of disrupting XCOM. You will have no issues with me.”

The Commander gave one firm nod. “Good. That’s all I wanted to discuss.”

She stood, inclining her head gratefully as she gave his salute. “I thank you for telling me this, Commander. Most would have covered it up or removed me. You can rely on my loyalty. Earth comes before country.”

A sentiment that was sadly lacking with certain people. “I want nothing more,” he promised.

She seemed satisfied and walked out of the door and as the door hissed open, Carmelita walked in, giving Shun a look of surprise as she walked by. Perfect timing. “Am I interrupting anything, Commander?” She asked, looked at him curiously.

“I just finished,” he assured her. “Take a seat.”

She did. “What do you need, Commander?”

He handed her his tablet. “I spoke to you about experimental programs a while ago. We now are ready to proceed with them, if you’re willing.”

She handed it back immediately. “I’m in. Whatever you need.”

He blinked. While he was sure she would accept, he didn’t think it would be _that_ quickly. “Just like that? No questions?”

“Your goal is to kill aliens,” Carmelita stated coldly, firmly. Her eyes as hard as ice. “You have proven that time and time again. That is my purpose now, whatever will be required to eradicate the aliens is something I will do willingly, no matter what.”

“In that case, you’ll still need to indicate the extent of the genetic modifications you want,” the Commander said. “Then you will be altered within the next few days. You will be a part of the next phase of human warfare, faster, better and stronger than any soldier before you.”

Carmelita marked several spots on the tablet. “I look forward to it. I mean what I said, Commander. Whatever you need, I will do.”

The Commander took the tablet back. “You have my respect, Carmelita. You’ll be called in within a couple days.”

Carmelita stood and saluted. “Thank you, Commander. I look forward to it.”


	24. EXALT Raid: Japan

EXALT Raid: Japan

***

_Italy, Rome_

Annette snuck a quick glance over her shoulder as she moved through the packed crowd. She didn’t sense any imminent danger, or notice anyone especially suspicious following her. But that was absolutely no guarantee that no one was there. She’d almost been caught several times now, and wasn’t taking any chances.

She’d almost blown it leaving Japan, thinking that she could just mind-control her way onto the plane. Initially, it had worked, though several people had given her strange looks as she just walked through the line with only a word to the security guards and personnel.

She’d been _way_ too obvious, and had she not stopped to sense the area immediately after exiting the plane in China, she would have been taken away by the three EXALT operatives that were waiting for her. Fortunately, these people were professionals. _Too_ professional for their own good, it made them easier to pinpoint and it had taken a subtle suggesting from her for them to leave the area briefly, giving her time to get out.

She’d been a lot more careful after that.

The week that followed had involved her sneaking into the luggage, taking boats, trains and taxis in what she hoped was a haphazard and unpredictable pattern for EXALT. For the most part it seemed to work, and she’d just kept out of the way of the rest of the passengers if anyone else was with her.

But she was wondering if that wasn’t a mistake now. EXALT _had_ to know where she was going, and had she no choice, she would have gone anywhere else. The only problem was that there was no one else _to_ go to. She couldn’t trust anyone, or any government.

There were only _two_ options that seemed like good ideas to her now, and might be her only chance. She had to find Latrell first, but that was a temporary solution at best. EXALT would figure out who he was, if they hadn’t already, and either kill them both or take her prisoner again. His position within the French Police wouldn’t even be a concern for them.

So once they made contact, there was really only one place to go where she might be safe: XCOM.

She’d managed to learn some about the organization that was fighting the aliens who had invaded, as well as the history of this whole invasion itself. Oddly enough, she couldn’t find out much about them except that they were multi-national, very advanced, and very secretive. There had apparently been some video released recently depicting XCOM as murderers, but that had apparently been disproven quickly by XCOM itself.

She really didn’t care that much now. XCOM was an enemy of EXALT, and if she didn’t know better, it was probably EXALT that had leaked the video in the first place. But they were enemies, and that was all she needed to know.

The only problem was how to _get_ to them. XCOM didn’t have any recruiting stations, and no one really know where they operated out of, not to mention they seemed to only make public appearances when absolutely necessary. So…that would be a problem for her, but maybe Latrell knew more than her.

Out of the airport now, she began walking down the street until she saw one of those booths selling those cheap phones with a limited number of minutes on them. She’d always wondered who would ever pay to get those, but was now grateful for their very existence. She’d taken a few more credit cards from unsuspecting people in the other cities and that time had just withdrawn a set amount of cash before disposing of the card.

Money wasn’t that much of an issue to her now, but if things went wrong, she’d have to do it again soon. As it stood now she had enough to get the phone, and pay for gas for the car she was going to steal. She really didn’t want to, but she had no choice and she needed a reliable mode of transportation she controlled.

She walked up to the stand, picked out the cheapest flip-phone and handed it to the man. She didn’t speak Italian, so she hoped he understood English. “How much for this?”

“Twenty euros,” he answered drearily, not really seeming to care one way or another.

“And this’ll work right away?” She pressed, wanting to make sure.

He rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards the sign. “That’s what the sign says. Read it.”

She pursed her lips, starting to be put off by his dismissive attitude. “I would, but I don’t read Italian.”

He sighed. “Damn tourists,” he muttered. “Yeah, it’ll work.”

She was very tempted to just mind-control this jerk and walk away. But she was breaking enough laws without adding another. But she wasn’t going to let him off for being so rude. As she pulled out the money, she focused for his mind and secured it. Anything she said would be followed. Complex commands didn’t really work, but simple things were fine.

“Listen carefully,” she told him as she set the money on the table, looking into his eyes, the pupils glowing a slight purple as she exercised her power over him. “Whenever your next customer shows up, you’re going to give them whatever they want, for free. Because you’re a kind and generous person.” She picked up the phone case. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he answered tonelessly. “I understand.”

She snapped her fingers quickly, a trick she’d figured out which helped emphasize certain quick commands. “Sleep.” He slumped over a second later, already out.

With any luck he’d think it was some dream or hazy memory. As long as he didn’t think too much about it. Which from the apathetic mind he seemed to have, that likely wouldn’t be a problem. She turned away and began walking while taking the plastic casing off the phone, and tossing it in a nearby trash can.

She quickly entered Latrell’s number and began typing: _[Meet at the place you almost got me killed.]_ She hit _send_ and put the phone in her pocket.

She figured that if EXALT were watching his messages, they’d not know what she was talking about. Latrell would know, thought. They’d once gone to Nice together, and had insisted that they go to some high-end restaurant which she refused to name now, insisting it was the best there was. Naturally, she’d accepted and after eating there, had gotten food poisoning and had experienced what was then the worst twelve hours of her life.

Needless to say she’d left a bad review, and ever since then referred to that time as his attempt at killing her. An inside joke she found amusing, but still mortified him.

It was interesting how much had changed now. She’d moaned in pain during that entire time because of an upset stomach, and now something like that wouldn’t even phase her. Now though, she needed to focus on the present; actually _getting_ to Nice.

She kept walking down, keeping an eye out for people who were getting in and out of cars on the streets. She watched for a minute, then brightened as a Lamborghini pulled up, and a very well-dressed man in a business suit stepped out. Well, that was the perfect opportunity, if this man could afford a car like that, he could certainly afford another one. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but she felt better about taking his car, than someone who wasn’t nearly as well off.

She jogged up by him as he got out, then quickly focused on his mind, which was awash with numbers, images, it was a hive of unceasing distractions. One more would slip through. It was very simple: _Leave your keys in the car and keep it unlocked._

She backed up, kept her head lowered as she leaned against the wall and waited for him to pass. Once he was, she followed him as he went into one of the nearby banks. Time for the moment of truth.

She pulled the handle and the door clicked open and she scooted into the seat of a car that was worth her entire salary. She’d look at the luxury later, there was only one thing she was interested in now.

There it was. The key was still in place and she turned it on, the engine roaring to life and she grinned. She was going to be ditching this car after meeting him, so she might as well enjoy the ride while she could.

The phone buzzed and she looked down to see a response from Latrell. Short and to the point: _[Understood]._

She nodded, satisfied and broke the phone in half, opened the door, and dropped the pieces onto the street. Shifting the gears to drive, she sped out onto the streets and toward Nice.

It was almost over. This part, at least.

***

_France, Nice_

Assuming that he was coming from his house, it would take him roughly eight and a half hours, and that was also relying on him leaving right away, which she wasn’t sure was possible. He did still have a job, but she somewhat assumed that he’d done whatever he could to get off early. The Lamborghini she’d driven had included a very helpful GPS which had gotten her to Nice no problem, and even to that restaurant, the _Les Amoureux_.

It was dark now and she’d had an hour to kill so she’d driven around some, in circles to see if anyone was following her, but there’d seemed to be nothing. After stopping and getting something quick to eat, she’d parked a ways from the restaurant and left it, not wanting to be caught with it.

Should someone find it, they’d see it unlocked and ready for the taking. She didn’t care what happened to it now, but it wasn’t her problem anymore. Now all she had to do was wait around this fancy restaurant without looking suspicious or worse. Loitering might draw attention, and she didn’t want to worry about the Nice police, even if she was sure she could escape easily.

Right now she wished she had a watch, since she didn’t like looking inside random stores and businesses for clocks. She’d briefly considered taking one from one of the many people walking by, but she’d done enough and this wasn’t a necessary theft. Should everything keep going smoothly, he should show any minute.

Latrell was punctual, but again, she didn’t know if extenuating circumstances would prevent him from coming as soon as possible. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t leaving now. She’d stay all night if she had to.

Unless…

Annette’s head snapped up and her eyes widened as a new possibility occurred to her. What if they’d just taken him on the way and were torturing him for information? What if they were already on their way now….no, no…

She shook her head, trying to slow her quickening heart rate. No, they wouldn’t kill him. Not yet, they wanted _her_ and they had to know if anyone other than him showed up that she’d know it was a trap. They couldn’t afford to kill him, either of them, quite yet. For whatever reason, they wanted her alive unless she didn’t give them a choice.

Of course they could force Latrell to act as the bait…no, he wouldn’t give into them. He’d die before giving her up…right? She swallowed. Even he had his limits, and then there was the possibility that they would threaten _his_ family to get his cooperation. Then…in that case everything was screwed. But the good news was that if he _was_ acting as bait, she’d be able to sense it.

She nodded to herself. Right. She had the advantage here, no matter how widespread or advanced they were.

She could control minds. They couldn’t.

The best solution while waiting was probably to do rounds. Walk around the restaurant, then loop around the block and repeat until he showed or EXALT did. Even if she missed him the first time, she knew he wouldn’t leave until he’d at least looked around the area. Win-win for everyone, she killed time and didn’t look suspicious, and allowed him time to come in anytime.

So she walked.

Every time she finished going around the restaurant, her eyes looking for any sign of him, she just kept her eyes on the ground and tried making sense of the chaos of minds around her. Shouting, whispering, screaming, the voices just existed and fought for her attention. She was now able to block them mostly at will, but opening herself up was almost overwhelming.

She could usually pinpoint a specific mind if she had visual contact of the person, she wasn’t sure why, but it was almost impossible to pinpoint someone through this maze of meaningless noise and density. But in the end, she wasn’t caring that much about the voices specifically, she was reaching for emotions.

She wasn’t being hunted by mercenaries or murderers driven by revenge. She was being hunted by professionals and professionals were cold. They didn’t subject themselves to the emotions of civilians, military ones even more so. That’s what she was watching for. Cold, focused and dutiful.

It helped that she’d gotten a sense of what actual EXALT soldiers felt, which was distinctly different than regular people. They were still human, but often had a far different mindset. It was a strength and weakness she intended to exploit. EXALT was too professional for its own good.

 She reached the restaurant again, and scanned the parking lot for his car. Still nothing. She sighed and looked into the restaurant as much as she could. She didn’t see him in there either, though that made sense. Why would he go in now? There was no way she’d go inside for a meal.

She shook her head and kept walking around the block. It felt like hours had passed but in reality it was likely only a handful of minutes. An hour at most, no reason to start worrying yet. Though it might be a good idea to vary up her route a bit. If someone _was_ watching, they might wonder why a strange woman was continuously walking around in a circle.

She still didn’t sense anything-

“[Annette?]”

She froze.

The voice came from just behind her. She took a second to sense the mind behind her. It was emitting restrained hope, concern and happiness all at once. She didn’t sense anything malicious. Shaking slightly, she turned around and saw him under the light of a lamppost. Latrell was simply wearing his “off-duty” uniform that was a black leather jacket holding his concealed pistol, jeans and military boots.

She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life.

She ran towards him and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He instantly hugged her back and they stayed that way for a few seconds. “[You made it,]” she whispered. “[You made it.]”

“[Told you I would,]” he whispered back. “[I was seriously considering coming after you before you sent your message.]”

She reluctantly let go and stepped back, beaming with joy she hadn’t felt for months. “[I told you to trust me to find you.]”

He smiled at that, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “[I know,]” he admitted. “[But right now I don’t care. I’m so glad you’re safe.]”

And with that reality came crashing in. “[We’re not safe,]” she told him urgently. “[Where are you parked?]”

He took her hand in his own. “[Right this way,]” he said as they started walking. “[I managed to get a squad car so we shouldn’t get stopped by police.]”

She wasn’t sure that was the best idea, but refrained from telling him that at the moment. “[Just take me home.]”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “[Don’t worry, no one is taking you again.]”

She smiled up at him at that. Even if she wasn’t as certain, it was sweet and she felt a lot more confident with someone else at her side. “[You actually grew your beard out.]”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “[Oh, yeah. I suppose you wouldn’t have known.]”

Before everything had happened, he’d been considering it and she’d told him she’d only support it if he actually put some effort into it. Since his black beard was very neat, it seemed that he’d followed her advice, even without her there. _Perhaps a way of remembrance_ , she thought suddenly. After all, she’d been assumed dead.

 But it suited him very well, softening his otherwise sharper features, though it couldn’t negate the piercing quality of his eyes that unsettled so many people. Combined with his height and position, he sometimes made for an intimidating figure. Now though, she figured that might come in handy.

They finally reached the car and he let go of her hand when his eyes narrowed, then widened as he looked at her hand. “[What happened to your hand,]” he asked incredulously, taking it again much more gingerly.

Oh. In everything that happened, she’d forgotten that her hands and arms looked like. She was so used to it by now that she hadn’t thought to consider Latrell’s reaction. “[It’s not as bad as it looks…]” she began as he gently pushed up the sleeve of her jacket.

“[The fuck it’s not,]” he growled, growing visibly angry and flush as he looked at her warped and scarred skin. “[What did they do-]”

She took his hand off her. “[I’ll tell you everything,]” she said, glancing around. “[But let’s just start driving.]”

He nodded quickly several times and they both got into the car. Annette took off the jacket, so he could see the extent of the damage that went up to her shoulders. She hadn’t checked, but she was fairly certain that it was starting to reach her upper chest and neck as well. But she could still function, so she’d ignored it for the moment.

“[It’s going to be long,]” she warned as Latrell started driving.

“[It’s an eight hour drive,]” he answered, looking straight ahead. “[We’ve got time.]”

Annette took a breath.

Then began talking, first describing how she’d been kidnapped and taken away by strange people. People she hadn’t learned the identity of for months. Then described the months of torture by drugs she’d gone through. She didn’t leave any details out, Latrell dealt with this kind of stuff frequently.

Though never with people he loved.

The more she talked, the more furious he got. His hands were almost white with splotches of red from gripping the wheel so hard. It reflected what she sensed from him, a building righteous fury that wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“[Then came the first time they said the date,]” Annette continued, getting more into recent events. She looked out the window at the peaceful countryside, so different than what she’d been through. “[I hoped it was the end, that whatever drug they were planning to test would actually kill me and end it for good.]”

She shook her head. “[At fate would have it, it didn’t. But at the time I wish it had,” she motioned toward her head. “[It felt as though my brain was being split open, I could hear things, voices screaming at me. Inside my head, at first I thought I was going insane.]”

“[Clearly not the case,]” Latrell commented tensely.

“[No,]” Annette agreed, wondering how well he was going to take this. “[I wasn’t going insane, but that drug did something to me. It…gave me abilities. Abilities that shouldn’t be possible.]”

Latrell glanced over. “[Like what?]”

“[It’s going to sound crazy,]” Annette began hesitantly. “[But…I can control people’s minds. Those voices were real, and they were actual people. I could hear their thoughts.]”

Latrell blinked, his mouth parting slightly. “[So…that means right now…]”

“[Not exactly,]” she sighed. “[I can sense what you’re feeling; what your general intentions are. But I can’t really _actually_ read your mind. It’s too much all at once. The amount is just overwhelming.]”

“[Is that how you escaped?]” Latrell guessed cautiously.

“[I’m getting to that,]” Annette said, looking at him. “[But yes, it was. It’s not the only thing I can do, either.]”

Latrell gave a humorless laugh. “[How could you possibly top reading minds?]”

“[I can summon some kind of energy,]” Annette explained, flexing her wrist as she looked down at the warped flesh. “And…well, I can use it as a weapon.]”

She raised her arm. “[But it’s painful. This wasn’t from EXALT. This was from using psionics.]”

“[Psionics?]”

“[What EXALT calls these abilities,]” Annette explained. “[I guess this is what they were testing for all along. I wasn’t the only one either.]” She continued telling him about the other test subjects, the Furies, and her eventual escape by sneaking out on their cargo plane.

“[You know the rest,]” she finished wearily, shrinking into her seat. “[That’s my story.]”

He shook his head in disbelief. “[I…don’t know what to say. What _can_ I say to that?]”

“[Hey,]” Annette hushed. “[Just being here is enough.]”

“[It doesn’t feel like that,]” he continued, raw anger coloring his voice. “[EXALT needs to be destroyed for what they did to you. At the minimum.]”

“[We need to focus on _escaping_ EXALT before destroying them,]” Annette interrupted. “[No one wants that more than me. But they are more powerful, widespread and influential than the two of us.]”

“[There had to be something,]” he insisted. “[They can’t control _everything._ ]”

Annette swallowed. “[They do have one enemy. You know XCOM?]”

He nodded. “[Everyone does. Are you saying-]”

“[Yes,]” she finished. “[XCOM is EXALT’s enemy.]”

Latrell whistled. “[Good riddance,]” he muttered. “[I hope they kill them all.]”

“[Yes,]” Annette agreed. “[But we can’t wait for that to happen. We need to contact XCOM. Get asylum. Protection.]”

“[Good idea,]” Latrell agreed hesitantly, pursing his lips. “[Except that almost no one knows how to contact XCOM. You’d have better luck trying to contact the SEALs than them.]”

“[There has to be _some_ way,]” Annette insisted.

Latrell opened his mouth a few seconds before speaking. “[There…might be. XCOM is allied with Germany and Israel…maybe someone there knows how to contact XCOM.]”

Annette felt hope rising again in her. “[Yes!]”

“[Don’t celebrate so quickly,]” Latrell cautioned. “[I doubt anyone but the highest levels of government know how-]”

“[Then we go to them!]” Annette stated firmly, her gaze hardening as she glanced out the window.

“[How are _we_ going to get to people like Nowinski of Habicht?]” Latrell asked, trying not to sound skeptical to her. “[People like us don’t get access like that.]”

She narrowed her eyebrows and formed her left hand into a fist and drew on the power to manifest itself. Her skin burst as the swirling purple energy converged around her forearm and wrist and converged into a ball of energy in her hand.

Latrell gaped at that, staring at it in disbelief, clearly not sure how to process this. “[I am not most people,]” she stated, the power doubling her voice like usual. “[ _We_ are not. I will take control of their minds if forced, but I will not be captured by EXALT again. Even if I must control the Prime Minister himself]”

She released her hold on the energy and it faded away, leaving her arm red, torn and in pain. But she’d endured it before and would do it again for however long it took. She took a deep breath. “[Are you alright with this?]”

He gave a sharp nod. “[Whatever it takes. We should plan a bit more at my house. If we’re going to do this, it can’t be random. I need to know exactly what you can do. But get some sleep now. You really need it.]”

Annette nodded, that sounded like a good plan. Sleep was something she desperately needed, and with her life not immediately in danger, she quickly drifted off to sleep, knowing Latrell would be watching over her.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

There were some disadvantages to his new strength that hadn’t exactly been apparent beforehand. Namely that he had to handle certain delicate objects, like glasses, more carefully otherwise he’d accidentally shatter them in his hand. It wasn’t as though he was that stressed or angry when it’d happened. Best he could tell, he’d just squeezed a bit too hard without thinking and it had shattered.

Lesson learned, and now he was more conscious of handling delicate objects.

Carmelita had successfully undergone genetic modification, and seemed to be enjoying her newfound abilities. Vahlen was using this as an opportunity to get some more data on the limits of the modification, which she happily obliging.

In a few more days, Mordecai, Sarah and Samuel would undergo the treatment, and right now he was looking to expand the roster a few more. Creed, several of the new CT operatives, probably Leonid and Veronika, and probably Patricia. He’d wondered if her psionics would interfere somehow, but Vahlen had assured him that they had nothing to worry about since they weren’t modifying the brain itself.

He’d also made inquiries into possibly letting Myra undergo the modification for the secondary heart. That was really only the part which _could_ be modified since her eyesight was mechanically enhanced and the majority of her limbs replaced with metallic prosthetics. Shen had said that while the skeleton had been reinforced with mechanical implants, the organs themselves were unchanged, so it should be possible.

And if this good string of luck held out, in a few more days they’d have a few more soldiers to undergo the MEC procedure. Bradford and Van Doorn had identified some potential candidates, and they would be brought to the Citadel soon.

He’d been relatively surprised that the Council had been quiet through the whole leaked video incident. The fact that they’d not commented on it at all either meant they’d finally accepted that he had things under control or they were getting ready to depose him, the former he thought was more likely. It was probably only because of the quick response though, any later and the Council would likely be jumping all over him.

Now though, there were new concerns. With XCOM finally using the MELD, he’d actually have to pay attention to their stores. They had an enormous surplus now, but they’d need to raid a few more UFOs to keep that same stockpile. They weren’t concerned about running out yet, but a few months down the line might be a different story.

But now he was more focused on the future. Of XCOM, the Council, United Nations and humanity itself. There were a few more countries that he was looking to forming alliances with, and that was highlighting a potential issue in the future. The funding that XCOM was getting from this was good, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

_XCOM_ wasn’t large enough to wage a full-scale war against the aliens. That was a hard, irrefutable fact that pressed down upon him. No matter how much funding they received, no matter how much they progressed scientifically, even if they rivaled the aliens themselves, it wouldn’t be enough, not on its own.

The solution wasn’t hard. The varying nations had to unite.

Humanity had to unite.

Unfortunately, easier said than done. The only chance they had was one, single, united military comprised of the majority of nations in the world, directed with the sole purpose of pushing back the aliens. The countries they were allied with now would try to use the tech as best they could, but they were isolated, restricted and ultimately not a threat on their own.

In theory, that was what the purpose of the United Nations should have been. An actual power instead of a toothless congress. But since the UN wasn’t like that, it complicated things.

He didn’t wanted a new United Nations converging around him, with XCOM in charge. It would look like a power grab, and would make relations worse for everyone. Not to mention he _didn’t_ want to be in charge of an army or organization that large. It wasn’t his strength, and there were plenty of competent generals and admirals to choose from.

But the biggest reason was that he wanted XCOM to be independent of any political body. If they pushed back the aliens, after that a new political fight would break out, centered around XCOM and the alien tech. Many might see the need to break up XCOM to the major countries, same with the alien tech.

Unfortunately for them, he wouldn’t let that happen. He had plans for XCOM, and plans to solve the issue of the inevitable full-scale invasion that would be coming soon.

Ironically, it was thanks to Israel that he was writing this new document now. He’d have to share that with Nowinski when the time finally came.

A beeping light indicated someone was outside. He unlocked the door, cocking his head as he tried to think who’d be coming now. To his knowledge, nothing was scheduled. Probably one of the soldiers.

He ended up being correct, though it was not just one soldier. Two. Patricia and Creed walked in, Patricia clearly uneasy about something and Creed as stoic as usual. He really was a lot bigger than her, and Patricia wasn’t a small woman.

He minimized the tab he was working on and turned to face them. “Patricia, Creed,” he greeted, nodding to each of them. “What can I do for you?”

Both of them exchanged a look, Creed motioning with his eyes that she should continue. Interesting. Very few things could rattle Patricia, so whatever this was, it was important. “You told me to update you on any developments with my psionics,” Patricia began, brushing her hair behind her ears. “Well, there had been.”

Ah, now that made more sense. There were only a few reasons for her apprehension, all of which had positives, negatives and security risks. He raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“I was practicing on Creed,” Patricia began, nodding towards him. “I’ve been getting clearer…messages, I guess, over the past week or so. I can hear actual thoughts, images, stuff you’d expect. I thought to try it on him.”

The fact that she _was_ getting better passively was news in it of itself. Even if it seemed to be random, it was making Patricia either very useful, or _very_ dangerous. Fortunately, he didn’t feel he had to worry much with her. She was trustworthy. “Since you’re here, I assume it was successful?” He asked, shooting his gaze up at Creed quickly. “She read your mind.”

“Not just that,” Patricia clarified. “I changed it.”

The Commander leaned forward. _That_ was interesting. There was no way Patricia, or Creed for that matter, was lying. He would have picked up on their facial cues. “When you say _changed…”_

“I mean I put what I wanted in his head and he didn’t know,” Patricia finished grimly.

The Commander looked at both of them. Well then. He wasn’t _overly_ surprised by this new development. Once Patricia had told him she could sense feelings, and sometimes voices and thoughts, he figured it was only a matter of time before she could read minds, and then it followed that she’d be able to alter them. “Interesting.”

Creed made a sort of choking noise in his throat. “ _Interesting?”_

“You have another word for it?” The Commander asked, raising an eyebrow. “ _Useful_ would be another. Though you’re probably focusing on _concerning,_ or _dangerous_. Both of which are true.”

“You know, for some reason I thought you would be surprised,” Patricia commented incredulously. “But…you’re not. Curious yes, but not surprised.”

“I figured it would happen sooner or later,” the Commander commented, cocking his head at her. “That _was_ what you’ve been working towards, yes? I knew you’d figure it out eventually, and altering minds would soon come after. Though I will say I didn’t expect it to happen at the same time.”

“She’s concerned about potential abuse,” Creed finally stated, almost sighing. “That’s what’s bothering her. She could likely do this to you as well.”

“Probably,” the Commander agreed, seeing where her concern was. All it really did was reinforce his decision to let her continue. Potential abusers of power didn’t tell stuff like this, and _certainly_ didn’t worry about it. “But unless you’ve changed significantly since our last talk, then I don’t see any reason to worry. You’re not going to suddenly turn on us, are you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Right,” the Commander nodded. “So then I don’t see a reason to worry and you shouldn’t either. I’d suggest honing those talents to use on the aliens and EXALT.”

“Told you,” Creed muttered to her.

“Alright,” she breathed, glancing over at him, then back to the Commander. “But I needed to tell you that.”

“Yes you did,” he agreed. “And thank you for that.”

“You too as well, Commander,” she said, saluting him and inclining her head. “Thank you for understanding and trusting me.”

“You’ve earned it,” the Commander nodded. “We’ll likely need you soon, so be ready. Dismissed. You as well, Creed. Watch out for her.”

He gave a small smile. “Of course, Commander.” Than he saluted and left the room with Patricia.

Despite what he’d said, Patricia _did_ have a very valid concern about the abuse of psionics. There would be more eventually, and he likely wouldn’t trust them nearly as much. There had to be _some_ kind of counter to them, beyond him being psionic himself, which was a reasons he’d started Vahlen working on her own personal Manchurian Candidate project.

He wasn’t blind to the dangers psionics caused. But he wasn’t going to act out of fear or irrationality. No, this problem would be solved the same as any other. Efficiently, logically and definitively. He’d give Vahlen some time, and if nothing came of it, then he might have to look into other methods to curb psionic abuse.

But in the meantime, he was going to use Patricia to her fullest potential.

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

If his past visits to Zhang’s office unannounced were any indication, there was a high chance he’d be sending in Patricia sooner than he thought. Zhang apparently had some new information that he’d stressed was “very useful” to put it bluntly, and asked him to come down right away.

The doors hissed open and Zhang was standing in front of a lit holotable showing what looked like an air base of some kind. His Intelligence Director was looking at a tablet, though it was angled so that he couldn’t see exactly what was on it. A second later Zhang looked up and set it down. “Commander, good.”

“What’s the situation?” The Commander demanded as he strode over to get a closer look at the hologram.

“EXALT accidentally revealed themselves,” Zhang answered, managing to sound smug and neutral at the same time. Everything about him projected satisfaction.

The Commander rested his hands on the holotable and looked up at Zhang. “Go on.”

“A little over a week ago, some suspected EXALT agents started moving all at once,” Zhang continued, clasping his hands behind his back. “ _All_ of them, which is strange to begin with. I’m not exactly sure what prompted that, but it allowed us to pinpoint a few more potential operatives, and thanks to that, we were able to trace one such operative back to an unmarked airstrip guarded by our friend from Russia.”

He picked up his tablet and handed it to the Commander. “My agent was able to get these images, and based on them we have this holographic reconstruction here.”

Zhang was right about it definitely being an EXALT facility. These soldiers appeared to be the same ones from Russia, wearing red bandannas and appearing so very professional. These ones did seem a little more armored, similar to the ones they’d encountered in Mexico.

“This seems to be a little more important than Russia,” the Commander noted as he scrolled through the pictures. “Have you pinpointed the number of soldiers?”

“Between twenty and thirty,” Zhang concluded. “There might be more inside we don’t know about, not all combat-trained either. But you’re seeing images from a couple days ago. EXALT has been making their own tech leaps in the meantime.”

The Commander swiped forward, then raised an eyebrow. “It appears they managed to develop lasers. I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“Unfortunate that they won’t have time to enjoy their new weaponry,” Zhang commented dryly. “They were only one step behind us.”

The Commander smiled at that. “I think our soldiers will enjoy displaying the new Gauss weapons to them. Not to mention our armor can take sustained laser blasts. Theirs can’t.”

“We can attack from virtually any angle,” Zhang told him, motioning at the hologram. “The warehouse is unprotected, and the majority of soldiers are at the front.”

“There isn’t much cover,” the Commander noted, looking at the airstrip. “That could be a problem.”

“Not if we hit hard and fast,” Zhang pointed out. “They’re just as limited, and our Gauss weapons might bypass the cover entirely. If they can punch through alien steel, a few metal boxes might not be as safe as they think.”

The Commander appraised the hologram. “How many soldiers are usually guarding the front?”

“I’ve been told as many as twelve or as few as six,” Zhang answered, frowning. “Though I’m not sure it matters much. If the fighting starts, it’ll draw all of them out.”

The Commander’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s what I’m counting on. This is what we’ll do.”

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

“So where are you placed in the Atlas Protocol?” Samuel asked as he moved a piece across the board. He picked up a card. “Everyone pay me fifty.”

There were suppressed groans and cursing as everyone forked over the fifty dollars to a very smug Samuel. “I hate that card,” Blake muttered. “You’ve got enough properties without stealing more of our money.”

Soran smirked at that. Samuel had suggested that some of them play one of the board games that were stacked on one of the shelves. It soon became quickly apparent why Samuel had suggested Monopoly, because he was _really_ good at it.

Though Soran wasn’t far behind. This marked the first time he’d actually played the game and was surprised how much he was enjoying it. It was just the right mix of strategy, bluffing and luck. Not an easy feat, and it helped that the objective of the game was pretty simple, but subtle.

“They’ve got me as part of the Mission Control response team,” Soran answered as he rolled the dice. “They might have changed that since the new soldiers showed up. You?”

“Same,” Samuel answered as he organized his money. “I’d imagine that would be one of the more vulnerable points in the Citadel.”

“They’ve got me in the Research Labs,” Blake added, watching with dismay as Soran landed on Free Parking and collected the not-insignificant sum in the middle. “I guess since I know that area best.”

“Probably,” Shun agreed, appraising the board. “They seem to be trying to play to our strengths.”

“Makes sense,” Samuel nodded. “Where are you?”

Shun leaned forward and grabbed the dice. “I’m hangar defense,” she answered as she rolled the dice. Soran crossed his arms as she moved her piece.

“Pay up,” he prodded, since she had a habit of trying to get out of paying rent by casually passing the dice to the next person.

She grimaced and almost tossed the colored money to him. “This is such an awful game.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “Only because you’re not winning.”

“It’s not helping,” Shun agreed, looking at her properties. “Soran, want to trade?”

He cocked his head. “For what?”

She motioned to his property cards. “St. James for Oriental?”

Soran snorted. “Come on, you really think I’m going to fall for that. Counter-offer, Indiana for Oriental.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

He had to smile at that. “Well, yeah. We either both get a monopoly or none of us do. And if neither of us do soon, _he_ ,” he motioned to Samuel. “Is going to force us to go bankrupt.”

“Over the next few days,” Blake muttered.

“The point is that we can either continue losing money, or take a chance,” Soran continued. “Your move.”

She scowled for a few minutes, then finally muttered. “Fine,” and handed over Indiana and he gave her Oriental. Suppressing a smile, he placed the card into his completed monopoly. Perfect, now he arguably had the lead. A few rounds of him not landing on Samuel’s gauntlet of houses, and he could create his own gauntlet.

Afterwards, he had to hope Blake landed on everything bad, and once he landed on his properties, leverage the remainder of the green properties off him to complete a second lethal gauntlet.

Things were coming together nicely-

His good mood was cut off as his wristband buzzed. He glanced over to see Samuel’s also vibrating. Both of them exchanged a look and stood. “Sorry,” Samuel apologized as he made his way to his locker. “Duty calls.”

“Good luck,” Blake called out.

It only took them a few minutes to get fully suited up. Once Soran put his helmet on and let the HUD initialize, he grabbed the new Gauss rifle that had been distributed to all the soldiers. It had been emphasized that both weapons had their strengths and weaknesses, but he was curious to try the newest XCOM tech.

The armory itself had also been revamped, with a much larger assortment of weapons and gear that hadn’t really been available before. He’d decided to bring an additional med-kit in case it was needed, and several AP grenades as well. The Gauss rifle was much heavier than the laser rifle, but it seemed a lot… _sturdier_ , for lack of a better word.

This was a solid weapon, and felt like a solid weapon. He’d shot it a few times and it was without a doubt the most _powerful_ weapon he’d wielded.

Actually….no, that was incorrect.

_One_ of the most powerful.

_Satisfying_. It was the most _satisfying_ weapon he’d wielded. Ballistic-based weaponry had an element of force that just couldn’t be replicated with plasma and laser weapons. Samuel had also chosen to try out the heavier Gauss rifle, the heavier variant of the Gauss assault rifle. Both of them had opted to retain their laser pistols, however.

With both of them geared up, they both exchanged a look. “Ready?” Soran asked.

Samuel gripped his rifle. “Always. Let’s go.”

Both of them jogged to the hanger, the route so ingrained in them now that it only took them a few minutes to actually arrive. There were several others already there, two of them he’d never seen before along with Galia. All of them were looking up at the ceiling for some reason.

“Is there are reason you’re all looking up?” Samuel prodded humorously as they approached. “Distractions aren’t good before a mission.”

“Just look,” one of them stated, definitely a Russian from his accent.

Soran looked up wondering if a balloon had floated up or something, and immediately took a step back as he saw an XCOM soldier hanging from one of the beams on the ceiling.

How the…it _had_ to be at least twenty feet high, if she, yes, it looked like a woman. If she was stuck, why wasn’t anyone-“

“Believe me now?” She called down.

Carmelita. That had to be her voice. But how was she..? “Soran? Samuel? Glad you could see this demonstration.”

“This is unnatural,” Galia muttered. Since he didn’t know exactly what was going on, he couldn’t exactly comment. Though he was a little unnerved by how easily she’d been able to identify them. At that range it should have been borderline impossible, especially with their armor.

“Coming down,” she called out. “Stand back!”

Soran frowned under his helmet. What was-

He suppressed a shout as Carmelita casually let go and dropped twenty feet directly to the ground. Samuel made a move to go forward, but Soran put an arm out stopping him. There was clearly something they were missing. Carmelita wasn’t what he considered the most stable of women, but she wasn’t stupid and definitely wasn’t suicidal.

She hit the ground with a loud thud, her knees slightly bent before standing up straight. How the hell. “You should probably explain what we missed,” Soran stated tonelessly. “Like how you did… _that_.”

“Genetic modification,” Carmelita explained as she walked up. “New XCOM program. I can see the writing on that wall across the room, have another heart to help me survive, and can jump and survive fatal distances.”

“Wow.” Samuel commented, sounding torn between awe and shock.  

Very interesting. “I suspect this will come in handy,” Soran commented, looking to see if there were any obvious physical changes. After a second of looking, he couldn’t tell from the armor.

“Oh, I’m very much looking forward to testing them out,” Carmelita said as she flexed her wrist and fingers. Her tone was uncomfortably _eager_ as she reached for the rifle on her back.

“And here I thought this would be a relatively uneventful transfer,” one of the Russians muttered. “Well then,” he turned to Samuel and Soran. “Pavel Maxim,” he motioned to the man beside him. “That’s Alexei. Both of us Russian Counter-Terrorism agents.”

“CT agents,” Samuel confirmed. “Nice. Glad you’re joining the fight.”

“Here I thought that Aluma would get all the attention,” Galia muttered as she walked up to join their impromptu circle. Soran looked down to see her dog in… _armor_. Actual armor.

Samuel also looked down, then quickly looked back up. “I feel I stepped into some alternate timeline where really weird stuff starts happening.”

Alexei snorted. “Welcome to XCOM, I guess. A lot odder than I expected.”

The hanger doors hissed open and Patricia, Myra and another new soldier walked through. Fallen Sky was also with them, already suited up. It was going to be different now that the skyrangers could hold eight soldiers instead of six. Add in Myra and this strike force got a _lot_ more powerful.

The fact that Myra was also coming told him that this was going to be an important mission. “Load up!” Patricia called, the Gauss Autocannon on her back almost half her size. “We’ve got some EXALT soldiers to kill!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They called out and quickly boarded the skyranger.

***

_Skyranger, En route to LZ_

“Everyone, this is Jamali, ISOF operative,” Patricia introduced once they were seated. “Pavel and Alexei, yes?” She asked the two CT agents.

“Correct, Overseer,” Pavel confirmed, inclining his head.

“Good,” she continued, all business. “I’m Patricia, former Royal Marine. I’ve been fighting the aliens and EXALT since the beginning. Follow my orders and there won’t be issues, got it?”

“Yes, Overseer!” The affirmed.

ISOF. Hmm, he wasn’t completely sure, but he thought that was the Iraqi special forces branch. Interesting that they were contributing to XCOM, though he supposed it wasn’t unexpected. “What’s the op, Overseer?” Samuel asked.

“I’ll leave that to the Commander,” Patricia answered firmly. “Carmelita, I understand you’ve undergone genetic modification. Since I don’t know you’re full capabilities, I’ll let you suggest how best to utilize yourself.”

“That won’t be a problem, Overseer,” Carmelita assured her.

_“You will have an important role for this one, Specialist Alba,”_ the voice of the Commander interrupted. _“One suited to your new abilities.”_

“We’re listening, Commander,” Samuel said.

_“Then listen, Piston Team,”_ the Commander continued. _“You’re headed for a Japanese EXALT facility. We’re not sure what they’re guarding, but it appears to be an airstrip, possibly storing equipment or weapons there. You will deploy and wipe them out.”_

“Opposition?” Alexei asked, fiddling with his Gauss pistol.

_“Director Zhang estimates between twenty to thirty armed soldiers,”_ the Commander answered. _“That is not taking into account additional forces that might be inside the warehouse itself. Also be aware that they have laser weaponry, and we’re acting on the assumption that it’s as powerful as ours. Take appropriate precautions.”_

“Understood,” Patricia confirmed. “Are we to recover anything from the warehouse or area?”

_“EXALT is utilizing alien technology. I’d prefer that it was not damaged, should they be housing anything. But this is not a recover op, Overseer. Don’t damage the computers, though they’ll likely wipe them once we hit.”_

“Some of the staff are likely to be workers,” Soran pointed out. “What do we do if we encounter them?”

_“Take them captive if possible,”_ the Commander ordered. _“If they attack, kill them. I will leave them to your discretion. Captives are useful, but not necessary.”_

Quite honestly, Soran wasn’t completely convinced the merciful thing to do was capture EXALT workers. He got the impression that the Commander wouldn’t extend the normal rights that came with POWs. But EXALT were traitors to humanity, and likely to the aliens in the future as well, so he didn’t exactly feel bad about killing them.

Patricia set a small black device on the floor of the skyranger and pressed a button on the side. It flashed and a miniature hologram of what Soran assumed was the mission area appeared. It was very basic, but he could clearly make out the airstrip and warehouse.

“The area around is open,” Patricia said, pointing at the open spaces. “We’re not sure how much cover will be there, but we’ll have to make do.”

“And if there is none?” Samuel asked, looking up at her.

_“Carmelita will scout ahead,”_ the Commander said. _“We’ll know the terrain before the attack. The cover of darkness will also help.”_

“I’ll keep to the woods,” Carmelita said, resting her forearms on her legs. “You’ll have what you need before the attack.”

“Once we know what we’re facing, we’ll attack from the front,” Patricia pointing to the airstrip area in front of the warehouse. “We’ll entrench here, and draw as many out as possible.”

“Draw out?” Jamali asked, sounding puzzled.

_“We want to direct all their attention to the front,”_ the Commander continued. _“Keep them contained in the area in front of the warehouse. Don’t let them flank you. We have the technological advantage here.”_

“I assume Carmelita will join later?” Samuel guessed.

_“She will,”_ the Commander confirmed, sounding pleased. _“But her role will be to keep them from scattering. Once the fighting starts, she’ll jump onto the roof and wait for the majority of EXALT forces to converge. You have the symbiote grenades and rifle, use them to pin EXALT there.”_

Soran looked over at the odd rifle. He’d not taken a closer look, but it was clearly not Gauss, laser or ballistic. The barrel was much too wide and it had quite a few more tubes on it than normal. “Symbiote?” He asked, looking around.

“You know the green stuff the aliens put in their abduction pods?” Carmelita asked, pulling out a pure black grenade-like ball. “This is XCOM’s version. EXALT won’t be able to get out of this easily.”

He was curious why XCOM wasn’t using that more, it seemed a really useful weapon, if a bit risky to use in that it wasn’t lethal and might miss. “Got it.”

_“That should be enough to wipe out the majority of EXALT soldiers,”_ the Commander finished. _“The rest will likely retreat to within the warehouse.”_

There was one major piece that was missing here. “Is Myra going to come down with the initial attack?” Soran asked.

“The plan is to wait until the attack is in full swing,” Patricia answered, pointing towards a highlighted area on the hologram. “Once Carmelita strikes, Gray Sky will drop Myra right in the middle of them.”

Soran’s lip curled up. Clever and effective. “Good to know.”

_“I assume EXALT will have means to secure the warehouse beyond the ordinary,”_ the Commander continued. _“They’ll likely try to force you into a choke point. Patricia, can you disrupt them?”_

Soran frowned at that, since he wasn’t really sure how she could do anything the rest of them couldn’t. “I can,” she assured the Commander. “As long as there are few distractions.”

Right. Except that she was psionic. She must have improved if she was being ordered to use her abilities. Samuel also seemed initially confused. “How could you disrupt them from outside?”

She shrugged. “I’m psionic.”

Almost everyone except Soran and the new soldiers leaned back or started in surprise. “You’re _what?_ ” Samuel demanded, sounding more confused than angry.

“Psionic,” she repeated neutrally. “I’ll tell you the full thing later if you want, but all that you need to know now is that I can use it against EXALT and the aliens.”

Carmelita whistled. “Wow.”

“I’ve actually stepped into bizarro world,” Samuel muttered. “You know about this, Soran?”

He pursed his lips. “I suspected.”

_“Overseer Trask’s psionic abilities are known and are not a danger to you,”_ the Commander interjected, his voice firm even through the speakers. _“Do not let this disrupt the mission. Good luck. Citadel Command, out.”_

The line clicked dead. “I wondered if humans could ever use psionic abilities,” Pavel said, looking over at Patricia. “I guess I was right. How did it happen?”

“By accident,” was her curt response. “Like I said, I’ll explain it later if you’re really interested.”

Apparently no one was going to ask the basic question of what she could actually _do_. Probably because no one wanted to know _exactly_ what she could do when they were heading into a battle. Much harder to focus on the enemy when you were wondering if your superior could read your thoughts.

Soran wasn’t overly concerned. Patricia was a reasonable and honorable woman. She wouldn’t intentionally read their minds, but not everyone would be so trusting. An issue for later.

After a while, the lights flashed to a solid red and the voice of Fallen Sky came on. _“This is Fallen Sky to Piston Team, we’re coming in for a landing. Stand by.”_

Soran felt them dip sharply and slowly lose acceleration. Gripping his rifle, he waited for the order. “Prepare to deploy!” Patricia ordered, standing and taking the front, ready to charge out. Soran took a position behind her, Samuel to his side as they all stood ready as the skyranger got ever closer to the ground.

With a final shake, they hit the ground and the ramp deployed with a hiss. Soran was instantly hit with a burst of rain as it opened, showing a forest receiving the full force of an unexpected thunderstorm.

Good thing Shen had made these things waterproof.

“Deploy!” Patricia ordered and they charged out into the pelting rain to bring retribution on EXALT.

***

_Japan_

“I would have thought they would have mentioned the rain,” Jamali commented as they walked through the sheets of white water coming down upon them, dripping off their armor and weapons.

“Citadel Command likes to surprise us sometimes,” Patricia answered, stopping suddenly as she raised a fist. “Hold.”

They all stopped and raised their weapons. Soran could see his map showed that they were approaching the facility. “Carmelita,” Patricia looked towards the woman by her side. “Go.”

“Yes, Overseer,” Carmelita saluted and charged off to the right into the woods at full speed, leaving them behind within the woods. Soran wasn’t all that bothered by the rain, the armor was sealed enough that he really didn’t _feel_ the wetness, at least not yet.

Patricia turned back to the rest of the squad. “We’ll wait for her to get into position, then we’ll march straight until we reach the open field. Remember, we want them to notice us.”

He could hear the grin in Samuel’s voice. “I wonder what they’ll be thinking.”

Alexei rested his rifle on his shoulder. “What any soldier should feel when they see seven heavily armored soldiers walking towards them in the rain. _Fear_.”

Soran wasn’t exactly convinced that EXALT soldiers would have that particular response, that was what he’d expect from normal militaries or police forces. Then again, these might not be EXALT soldiers proper, they might just be guards, not used to combat.

Not that it would matter in the end.

They waited a few minutes until Carmelita’s voice spoke on the comms. _“I’m in position, Overseer. Initiate squadsight protocol.”_

“Copy,” Patricia answered and each of them clicked the gear on their helmets that allowed them to sync with another soldier’s feed. Soran opted for full conversion instead of overlay. His HUD flashed and he saw the real-life version of the holographic area he’d seen earlier.

Fortunately, there seemed to be quite a bit of supplied out in the open, stationed out along the airstrip in neat and symmetrical squares. EXALT were too meticulous for their own good. It would provide plenty of cover for their assault. Tarps had been placed over them, likely due to the storm, which flapped in the wind with every new sheet of rain that came down.

There were few guards, as was expected during a storm like this. Eight of the EXALT guards stood in groups of two relatively close to the warehouse, four of them actually guarding the door, the rest by various crates of supplies. All of them looked thoroughly miserable.

“Shoddy security,” Galia muttered, shaking her head. “You’d think they would guard the entire perimeter, not just the front.”

“They probably did in the beginning,” Soran guessed as he shut off the squadsight. “But they likely got tired of it and saw no need. After all, who would attack them?”

“They’re about to find out,” Patricia stated as she began walking. “Keep close for the moment and make no sudden movements. Let’s see how close we can get.”

They walked through the woods, stepping over wet branches and slick foliage as they made their way silently to the end. Mud caking their boots, already washing off from the rain, they stepped out onto an open field, the grass slick with rain. Up ahead Soran could see the concrete airstrip and warehouse.

“Move forward in formation,” Patricia ordered, her voice hard as she raised her Gauss autorifle. “Weapons ready and march. Do not fire until they do.”

Soran raised his rifle as did the rest of them, Samuel to his right and Patricia to his left. Side by side they marched forward through the pelting rain and midnight moon. The grass softened their footsteps and the rain drowned out any other noise they made.

Soran could now see the EXALT guards, though they didn’t seem to notice the soldiers approaching them yet. Soran lined up a shot on the closest one, the blonde-haired man fiddling with his soaked red bandanna. He wouldn’t have to worry about that much longer.

“Wait for it….” Patricia growled as they finally stepped onto the tarmac.

“嘿!”  Someone called from the warehouse. The EXALT guards looked over towards them now, already reaching for their weapons as they realized they were under attack.

“Open fire!” Patricia ordered and their weapons flashed red as Gauss-powered projectiles sped through the rain to strike the exposed guards. Soran’s aim was true and he blinked as the round he’d aimed at the guard’s head not only killed him, but virtually shattered the head from the nose up.

The area lit up with red beams as EXALT began firing back with their laser weapons. Soran and Samuel charged towards the nearest cover and began firing back. EXALT had also scattered towards cover and began exchanging their own fire.

Soran raised his weapon and surveyed the situation. “Two across from us!” He called out, shooting a few rounds in their direction which missed. Now more EXALT soldiers were coming out of the warehouse. “More coming!”

“I see them,” Patricia growled as she sprayed weapon fire across the field, forcing all the soldiers to either duck into cover or dive onto the ground. Several screams rang out as Alexei and Galia scored hits on the soldiers.

Soran heard Galia yell something in Hebrew and Aluma charged out from behind cover towards a trio of EXALT guards running up. They all shouted in surprise as the enraged German Shepard leapt at one of them and began tearing his throat out. The two soldiers stumbled back and raised their weapons, clearly not sure if they wanted to fire for fear of hitting their comrade.

Their decision was cut short as Gauss rounds from Galia and Jamali hit them both in the chest and head and they collapsed to the ground. Aluma finished, her muzzle caked with blood and charged back to Galia’s position.

“Soran! We’ve got more coming!” Samuel yelled as he shot a few more times at the EXALT soldiers who were using that portable cover to entrench themselves further.

“I see it,” Soran acknowledged as he looked out of cover, unflinching as laser beams sped by his face. “Targeting the far left.”

If the specs on these weapons were correct, the Gauss weapons should punch right through their shield. He targeted the center of the cover the EXALT guard had put up in front of her and fired a short burst. The rounds tore through and she fell to the ground, screaming and blood coming out of her chest as she called for help in Chinese.

“One down,” Soran called out, as yet more soldiers came out of the warehouse. There had to be at least fifteen now, excluding corpses. Now through, they were entrenched and the firefight had stabilized to a degree. Now all they needed was Carmelita and Myra. A glint through the rain caught his eye in the back of the EXALT line and his eyes widened as he realized what it was.

_Rocket launcher!_ Aimed directly at him…no, towards Samuel who was very close. The EXALT soldier was going to fire any second and he had a decision to make. But in the end, it was surprisingly easy.

“ _Rocket! Get down!”_ Soran yelled as he shoved Samuel to the ground as the soldier fired the rocket which sped towards him. He looked at the rapidly approaching projectile knowing that it was too late to get out of the way by leaping to the side.

So he jumped.

He swore he felt the rocket under his boots as it sped underneath him and he crashed to the ground seeing the rocket explode some trees in the distance. He scrambled back until his back was against cover. “Your best idea was to fucking _jump_ it?!” Samuel demanded as he also scrambled back to cover. “ _Really?!”_

“That or die!” Soran hissed. “And you’re welcome!”

“Thanks!” Samuel spat, seemingly torn between anger and relief. “But don’t do that again!”

Soran grinned at that as he aimed his weapon at the offending rocketeer. “No promises. Patricia! I think it’s time.”

“Agreed!” Patricia called as laser raised around her. One grazed her chest, leaving a smoking black mark. “Citadel Command, bring in Myra. Carmelita! Pin them here!”

_“With pleasure,”_ Carmelita answered and Soran looked up at the roof to see Carmelita rise, then take a knee and toss down several of the symbiote grenades. He didn’t hear an explosion but heard the aftermath loud and clear. The EXALT soldiers shouting and the back half aiming their weapons up at the new threat.

Carmelita raised her rifle as laser beams shot past her head. _“Pinning them now.”_

_“MEC deployment incoming,”_ the Commander stated, sounding _very_ satisfied. _“Stand by.”_

Soran raised his rifle towards the EXALT soldiers still entrenched before him. They seemed frozen mid-motion as they tried to figure out who to fire at. Soran took advantage, lined up the shot and blew the man’s face off and Samuel took out the EXALT woman beside him eliciting one final scream.

A roar from above caught his attention and Soran looked up to see the MEC transport fly overhead and stop over the remaining. EXALT soldiers. A few seconds later, Myra dropped down and landed on a trapped EXALT soldier with a sharp crunch.

The EXALT soldiers were in full panic mode, the ones not trapped running into the warehouse and shouting in Chinese while trying to avoid getting trapped by Carmelita shooting at them. The trapped ones just fired at Myra and any XCOM soldier who advanced close to them. Myra raised her MEC’s wrists and cones of flame shot out, engulfing the soldiers closest to her.

Galia shouted again and Aluma charged at a duo of EXALT soldiers whose backs were turned. The dog leapt again and probably broke the man’s neck while Galia shot the other one in the back.

“Advance!” Patricia roared as Carmelita trapped the remained EXALT soldiers and Myra reduced them to charred husks. Soran and Samuel charged out of cover, firing at a lone EXALT soldier who had clearly panicked if his terror-filled eyes were anything to go by. A round from his rifle ended his life quickly in a spray of blood and brains.

Carmelita had also gotten tired of simply trapping soldiers and decided to join in. _“Coming down,”_ she announced and _leapt_ off the building and hit the ground with a wet splash. The closest EXALT soldier had managed to duck under Myra’s flamethrowers and was firing futilely with his laser pistol since his hand was secured to the crate with the symbiote goop.

Carmelita closed the gap within a second, grabbed his firing arm and snapped it with the ease of a piece of wet wood. The man screamed and Carmelita then repeated the same procedure with his trapped arm. The rest of the EXALT soldiers were dead or inside the warehouse except for him, his screams only growing louder when Carmelita placed her boot on his chest and slammed him to the blood-slicked tarmac, twisting his arm beyond recognition.

Soran winced as he walked up. There was no point to that. “Enough!” He called out.

Carmelita looked up at him, her helmet dripping water as she stared back at him, almost in challenge. “Quit toying with him,” Patricia interrupted as she strode up, flanked by Galia and Jamali. “Kill him so we can move on.”

Carmelita nodded and stepped back. “Understood, Overseer.” With that she drew one of her blades and placed it to the whimpering man’s throat and slit it, blood already spilling out and the man’s immediate coughing signifying he was already choking on his own blood.

The rest of the squad were already converging around the warehouse, but Soran stopped in front of the man before continuing, raised his rifle, and ended his suffering before continuing. Samuel stopped, looked back at him and nodded in silent approval as they walked up to Patricia.

“I can cut an entrance on the roof,” Carmelita stated as she drew his laser pistol. “Just give the word when ready to breach.”

“Go,” Patricia ordered and Carmelita nodded and jumped onto the roof with a _clang_. It was going to take a while to get used to that. “Alexei, Pavel, Myra; go to the back and prepare entrance.”

_“How should we enter?”_ Myra asked, looking down at them.

“However you want,” Patricia answered. “Jamali, Samuel, go to that side entrance and prepare to enter. Soran, Galia, stay with me and wait for my signal.”

The soldier nodded and all charged off to their respective positions. Once they were gone, Patricia walked up to warehouse entrance sliding door which was locked of course. Soran took a position on the right side and Galia took the other, Aluma by her side.

Patricia just stood in the middle, rested the barrel of her weapon on the slick ground and rested her palm on the door. Nothing happened at first, but Soran soon saw a slight distortion around her, even visible through the rain as Patricia exercised her powers.

“There are fifteen inside,” Patricia muttered, her voice distant. “Some armed, some not. One has a rocket launcher. I think eight are workers, several are clustered together in one room, more terrified than the rest.”

Galia looked at Patricia once she’d finished and Soran didn’t really blame her. It was eerie the first time experiencing something like this, it was natural or normal. But she didn’t say anything and let Patricia continue. “Go in on my signal,” she continued, her voice still distant.

Over the next few minutes Soran was distinctly aware of things… _changing_ , for lack of a better word. He was calm, focused, things were clearer than they should be. He felt… _connected_ in waiting for one signal which he would know instinctively.

Without thinking he drew his laser pistol and noticed Galia doing the same. The hand Patricia had placed on the warehouse door closed into a fist and an explosion from inside rocked the immediate area. Soran instinctively stepped back and began firing a sustained laser, beginning to cut large enough hole for one person to enter.

Patricia kicked the piece of metal that had been cut in front of her and stormed into the warehouse and like that the trance he’d only been partially aware of was broken. It was then he realized that he and Galia had cut perfectly symmetrical halves of that door. No time to think about that, instead he charged inside to see five EXALT soldiers circled around each other as an explosion opposite Soran, Patricia and Galia revealed Myra with Alexei and Pavel.

A perfect square of metal fell from the ceiling and Carmelita fell through and hit the ground with a clang. That was enough to break the EXALT soldiers out of their trance but it was far too late. They’d made the mistake of grouping together which only resulted in Myra simply raising her arm and shooting one cone of flame from her wrist, incinerating them instantly.

Even if that hadn’t happened, the hail of rounds from Patricia, Soran, Carmelita and Galia ensured that they died quick and instant deaths. The charred and bullet-riddled corpses felt to the ground as the XCOM soldiers converged into the center of the warehouse. Crates were stacked in the corners, but it was mostly empty.

It was then Soran noticed a trio of EXALT soldier corpses they _hadn’t_ killed. Except these seemed to be blow apart and various body parts were scattered around the immediate area. The remaining chunks of flesh were riddled with shrapnel, bone and charred skin. Soran looked at Patricia. “What did you do to them?”

“One of them had a rocket launcher,” she answered as she motioned them in front of a room. “I forced him to use it.”

Soran pursed his lips, but refrained from commenting as they lined outside the door. “This where the workers are?” Carmelita asked, pulling out her blade.

“Yes,” Patricia answered. “Commander, what are our orders?”

_“Take the leader prisoner,”_ the Commander answered. _“Execute the rest.”_

The newer soldiers, including Samuel looked at each other after that. Patricia betrayed nothing, if she was even concerned at all. “Weapons ready,” she ordered as she stormed up to the door and slammed her fist against it. “Everybody out now! Or we _will_ open fire!”

If Soran had heard that, he’d have been running to get out as fast as possible. Patricia stepped back and raised her autorifle. The door handle moved slowly and the door opened to reveal six men and women in EXALT attire come out, hands raised and looking absolutely terrified.

“Which one of you is in charge?” Patricia growled, as if she needed to intimidate them more.

They all exchanged looks with each other, none of them speaking until a loud _pop_ of a Gauss pistol being fired shattered the silence and one of the women collapsed to her knees, clutching her arm which was now soaked with blood. Soran looked to see Carmelita holding her pistol at the remaining EXALT workers.

“Answer the question,” she stated tonelessly, dispassionately. “Can you understand English?”

They all nodded, even the woman who’d been shot. “Who is in charge?” Patricia repeated.

“I am,” one of the workers, an older man with graying hair stammered out. “I’m the chief inventory manager.”

Carmelita nodded, satisfied, and holstered her pistol. Alexei and Pavel stepped forward, until Patricia raised a fist. “Wait.”

She lowered it and let her weapon drop to the floor as she took a step towards the man. “ _You_ are in charge?”

His face sweating, the man nodded. “Yes.”

“No,” Patricia stated, Soran’s helmet almost not picking up the words. Her tone was softer than he’d ever head. “You’re not. You are lying.”

His eyes widened. “No! No!”

_“Patricia, are you sure?”_ The Commander asked.

“Yes.”

_“Kill him.”_

Carmelita nodded and raised her pistol and fired again, this time shooting the head which exploded, splattering the nearby workers and Patricia with blood and brains. The now traumatized workers were now openly crying and shaking as Patricia paced in front of them. Without missing a beat, she continued.

“I will ask again, who is in charge? We will repeat this as many times as necessary.”

“Me!” A woman stammered out, her black hair stained with the blood of her co-worker. “It’s me!”

Patricia stared at her for a few seconds. The motioned Alexei and Pavel forward. “Take her, she’s the one.” They stepped forward and hauled the woman away without any resistance.

Now all they had to do was finish the last command. The remained EXALT worker’s eyes filled with renewed fear as they realized what was going to happen. Soran raised his rifle, though with some reluctance as he took aim at the man closest to him.

As much as he disliked this, he figured that this was not motivated by sadism, but practicality. XCOM could not afford to house prisoners for an indefinite period of time, and anything of value they knew was likely already known by the leader. Patricia raised a fist as they took aim.

_“Wait.”_

Soran frowned as he heard the Commander interrupt.

_“That order is dismissed,”_ the Commander repeated. _“These people can still be useful to us. Subdue them and prepare them for transport. Citadel Command, out.”_

That…was not what he’d expected, and now Soran was unsure that letting these workers keep their lives was merciful or not. The Commander wouldn’t take them unless he had a use for them, and from what he knew of the Commander, that use would not end well for them regardless.

Their orders clear, they moved to secure their new captives, all the while Soran wondered if he was doing the right thing.

But the answer to that was becoming murkier every day.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Titanfall

_Personnel:_

Piston 1 _(Squad Overseer_ ): Specialist Patricia Trask

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 7

 

Piston 2: Specialist Carmelita Alba

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 3

 

Piston 3: Specialist Soran Kakusa

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 4

 

Piston 4: Specialist Samuel Roche

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 3

 

Piston 5: Specialist Galia Loeb

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 4

 

Piston 5.5: “Aluma”

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 2

 

Piston 6: Specialist Alexei Feodor

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 2

 

Piston 7: Specialist Pavel Maxim

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 1

 

Piston 8: Specialist Jamali Muhammad

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 2

 

Piston 9: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

                **Status:** Active

**Kills:** 8

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Tristin Ward – Call sign: “Fallen Sky”

Pilot 2: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

 

_Artifacts Recovered:_

-50x Assorted Living Equipment

-17x EXALT Laser Rifles (Moderate Condition)

-3x EXALT Laser Rifles (Unsalvageable)

-4x EXALT Computers

-100x Alien Alloys (Unsorted)

-100x Alien Weapon Components

-4x MELD Canisters

-4x Crates of Gold

-4x Crates of Assorted Luxury Items


	25. Preparing to Fall

Preparing to Fall

***

_The Bastion, Bedroom_

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Saudia murmured into the darkness as she laid in their bed, curled up beside Ethan, listening to his steady breathing. “We’re doing something wrong.”

It was a rare moment of uncertainty for her, one she only allowed in private moments like this. But the latest attack was unsettling her far more than she could admit to anyone else. She’d expected XCOM would try some kind of reprisal, but one not nearly as devastating or brutal as the recent attack on the Japan cargo transfer base.

XCOM had ruined the security cameras and taken all the computers so they had no actual record of the actual attack, and hadn’t responded quickly enough when the distress signal was activated. But the carnage left behind painted a pretty clear picture. The shortest explanation was that XCOM had shown up and wiped everybody out.

The variation in the corpses they’d recovered was also interesting and disturbing. Only a few displayed signs of burning, cauterization or the typical signs of laser-related deaths. Most appeared to have come from physical rounds, but those much more powerful that any before if the holes they’d found in the deployable shields were anything to go by.

It didn’t end there either, a couple bodies seemed to have been mauled to death by a wild animal, with their throats torn out. Saudia didn’t actually think XCOM was _using_ wild animals, but there wasn’t another good explanation for some of the wounds. Similar to the Russian attack, a good number of the corpses were burned beyond recognition.

Adding another layer to how the attack was carried out, quite a few of the corpses had some kind of black substance attached to them, keeping them in place even in death. Another weapon of XCOM, probably. Whatever the case, they’d taken the weapons, supplies, alien tech and workers.

That concerned her most of all. At one point she wouldn’t have been overly worried since she knew the UN wouldn’t get anything out of them, and that they could be located and eventually released.

But she didn’t think she could rely on that anymore. It felt to her now that XCOM was part of the UN in name only. Civilized countries weren’t this brutal and thorough. Not usually.

She heard Ethan give a sigh. “I agree.”

She closed her eyes, wishing he would have told her differently, that it was a fluke and wouldn’t happen again. But he’d not lie to her just to make her feel better, it was one reason she loved him. “I was afraid of that. How can we last all these years and yet one organization threatens what we’ve built?”

His fingers stroked her hair a couple seconds as he thought. “Because we don’t control them, and they know us.” She felt his chest decompress as he let out another large sigh. “Complacency. That’s our problem, I think. We’ve been unchallenged for so long we’ve forgotten how to respond to an actual threat.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t exactly think he was wrong. Most of the time they _were_ virtually unchallenged in every aspect, the resistance they faced was never directed _specifically_ towards EXALT, instead it was various people just opposed to the agendas, laws, and ideas they tried to press, and even those people gave way in the end.

XCOM was different. It couldn’t be controlled at the moment, and didn’t appear to _be_ controlled by anyone. Whoever their commander was, they were doing everything they could to locate, pinpoint and destroy EXALT.

“Then we need to fix that,” Saudia murmured. “Soon. We have to adapt, we can’t afford something like this again.”

While a bit hyperbolic, since they technically _could_ sustain multiple hits, the sentiment echoed exactly what she was feeling. Because XCOM was going to keep hitting them, and the more they succeeded, the closer they came to threatening EXALT leadership. The Asia base was possibly compromised and if that fell…worst case scenario the Bastion itself could be targeted.

“So tell me,” Ethan said as he shifted to look at her. “What are you going to do about it, Director?”

It might not have been the best time for discussing retaliation, but Saudia didn’t care they were having it in a bed. Both of them exhausted. It needed to happen and they might not get a chance tomorrow. “Figure out where we went wrong, and fix it,” she answered quietly. “Then we send a message to XCOM, something that will _actually_ hurt them instead of that stunt Elizabeth tried to pull. Then we prepare for their attack.”

Ethan’s voice was sleepy, but she could hear the approval in it. “Good idea. I think it’s time we utilize the Venators for defense of our major bases. If we can’t predict XCOM attacks, Venator soldiers will be better than ordinary guards.”

Some families wouldn’t like that, but Saudia would be able to easily overrule them, and she privately suspected that most would appreciate it, even if they wouldn’t say so publically. “I’ll be going to see Elizabeth and Diguon tomorrow, I’ll be telling them that.”

“Then let’s get some sleep,” Ethan suggested, putting his arm around her and she sleepily grabbed his wrist and closed her eyes. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

That they did. Saudia leaned back into Ethan, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his rhythmic breathing.

***

_The Bastion, Control Center_

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “This is abrupt.”

The Chronicler just looked up at her, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I know, but I feel it’s necessary.”

“Why?” Saudia asked, genuinely curious as she appraised the elder man. “Matthew can take care of himself, and he’ll have Elizabeth’s agents to help prevent any sort of operations against Solaris Industries.”

Now the Chronicler raised an eyebrow. “Yes, because Elizabeth’s agents have been _very_ effective in preventing XCOM from attacking us.”

He said it without malice, but his words cut because they were ultimately truthful. Still, she allowed nothing to show on her face. “I’m going to speak to her personally now. She understands her position is at stake.”

“Then let her prove me wrong,” the Chronicler shrugged. “But in the meantime, I’ll see what I can do on my own.”

“Do you have people we don’t know about?” Saudia asked, more lightly than what her words implied. She knew he likely didn’t have anyone they didn’t already know about. “Because I’m not sure what you can do that one of our agents can’t?”

He smiled and tapped the side of his head. “Experience, Director. You don’t need to worry about me interfering in any EXALT operations. I’ll speak with Matthew about everything.”

“Fine,” Saudia didn’t see a reason to argue with him, and while she could technically order him to stay, it wouldn’t serve a purpose other than keeping him safe. But oddly enough, she’d never been concerned for his safety, he‘d always carried himself in such a way that she had no doubt he could defend himself. It wasn’t overt, but she’d figured out he was dangerous long ago, despite his age.

“But update Matthew if you _do_ find something,” Saudia emphasized, clasping her hands behind her back. “You might be sure of your skills, but I’d prefer you not go in without backup.”

He inclined his head towards her. “Of course, Director.”

“Good,” Saudia turned away and began heading towards the door. “You’ll accompany me to Europe and then take a flight to America. Meet me at the plan by the end of the hour.”

He nodded and turned down the hallway as he went to gather his things. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t take any since he never had before. She always assumed necessities like that were provided for him whenever he arrived at an EXALT facility. Actually, he probably just bought whatever he needed since EXALT had plenty of money.

But now she had to make a quick, but important goodbye. She stopped in front of Martel’s room and quickly knocked. “Come in!” she heard him call and thumbed the door open which slid open with a hiss.

He’d cleaned up his room since she’d last been in, much to her surprise. He was a brilliant young boy, but his organizational skills did need to be honed a bit. She suspected he’d done it out of boredom than anything else, but it was better than nothing. Martel was sitting in front his computer, headphones on playing some game.

She leaned against the doorframe and watched him for a few minutes as he was completely absorbed by the game. It appeared to be a strategy one of some kind, she was actually fairly sure she’d seen it before as well. She’d grown up in an era before this kind of entertainment became popular, and was somewhat sad because of it. Unfortunately her life didn’t allow much time for distractions like these, but Martel did deserve some fun before too much responsibility entered his life.

“Martel?” She prodded after a few more seconds. He looked over, smiled and removed his headphones, setting them on the desk in front of him.

“Yes, Mother?” He asked, respectful as usual while he fidgeted in his chair.

 She came over by him and knelt in front of him until she was eye level. “I hope you finished your studies before getting too deeply into that, yes?”

He nodded vigorously. “I did. I promise!” he pointed over to his bed. “It’s all there.”

She smiled at him. “Good job. Can you do that for a few more days without anyone prompting you?”

“I will,” he promised, his smile fading. “Are you leaving again?”

She sighed. “I’m afraid so. Your Father will still be here, but he might be busy.”

“Where are you going?” He asked, his eyes brightening with curiosity.

“Europe,” Saudia answered. “To see Mrs. Elizabeth.”

His eyes widened. “The spy! Are you going to have her spy on people?”

She chuckled at that. “Well, that _is_ what she does. So yes, I am.”

“How long will you be gone?” He finally asked, excitement visibly fading.

“Hopefully not more than a few days,” she promised. “But before I leave, I wanted to give you something. Your birthday is coming up, but I thought it’d be ok to give you something a bit early.” She reached to her waist and pulled out a smaller version of the laser pistol that had been distributed to EXALT personnel.

His mouth widened and eyes sparkled with wonder as he gingerly picked up the weapon in his hand. Ethan had taught him how to properly handle weapons long ago, but she was pleased he was treating this extra carefully. “Is this for me?” He asked incredulously, looking up at her.

She nodded. “It is.”

It hadn’t been an easy decision to come too. Ethan had been for it, of course, but she hadn’t seen the need for him to have his own weapon for a few more years. Seven, soon to be eight-year-olds didn’t need their own personal firearms. But the times warranted it. Like it or not, attacks on EXALT were happening and she wouldn’t have felt comfortable without leaving her own son some way to defend himself. With the aliens now having a tendency to show up unannounced, she just felt better knowing he wouldn’t be unarmed.

He knew how to use a gun, and he’d get better with practice. She’d also specifically ordered this weapon be constructed a little smaller to fit his hands. She trusted him to use it responsibly, but still felt the need to remind him. “This isn’t a toy,” she stated firmly, looking him square in the eye. “Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary, or for target practice. Got it?”

He nodded firmly. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good,” she pulled him into a tight hug and they stayed that way for a few seconds. “I’ll miss you,” she told him softly. “But I’ll be back soon.”

“Ok,” he answered. “Thank you.”

She let go and stood. “Goodbye,”

He gave a sad wave. “Goodbye,” she gave him one last smile and then exited the room. He’d be fine and she could feel a little better about his safety. Now she needed to focus on the tasks ahead and began mentally preparing as she headed towards the hangar.

***

_United States of America, Seattle_

Cerian took a sip of water as he looked across the street at the official headquarters of Solaris Industries. There had apparently been mass protests here over the past month or so, but not today it seemed. Suited men and woman stood outside, with earpieces and sunglasses, a clear attempt to deter unauthorized people.

He did have to admit that they looked like authentic Secret Service knockoffs. He supposed it was better than looking like obvious imitations. A shame he was here for business though, because he rather liked the city so far. It would be an excellent place to vacation too after all this was sorted out. He wouldn’t want to live here; America wasn’t the place for him, but he could admire the places within it.

But he wasn’t here for that. They had a company to investigate and he figured they might as well go to the source. Solaris Industry HQ would answer their questions, one way or another. The tricky part was, of course, going to be actually _getting_ the answers. Cerian had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn’t let him in if they just asked.

“Preliminary analysis?” He asked into his earpiece, once he was sure no one was eavesdropping.

_“Yeah…”_ Mary’s voice came back slowly. _“This is going to be difficult.”_

He snorted. Of course it was. He’d have been surprised if Solaris Industries didn’t have the best security possible. If they were with EXALT, even more so. “We have time,” he told her. “The question is can you break it?”

_“Yes and no,”_ she answered, sounding distant as she probably typed. _“Ok, I think I have a secure watch point. You can head back, I’ll explain then.”_

“Copy,” he answered as he shut off the remote wireless device Mary had given him to let her pinpoint the Solaris servers. Though she’d said that they’d likely stand out without the extra information, still, he’d rather her be sure.

The seat next to him moved slightly and he looked over at Ren who sat down. He blended in quite normally with civilian attire, and probably wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention. In theory. Solaris guards were likely trained well. “What did you see?” Cerian asked, looking back towards Solaris HQ.

“They don’t play around with security,” Ren answered. “We all took a different side, and all the sides _did_ have emergency exits. But all of them had at least two guards. Even the fire escape had one on the top of the stairs.”

“All the doors are probably wired in case someone tries to enter,” Cerian muttered, thinking. “They probably have even more inside.”

“Likely,” Ren agreed, pulling out his phone. “I got some pictures. All the doors also seem to have slots to put in some kind of card. Probably for the guards.”

“So to sum up, getting inside is going to be difficult,” Cerian finished, pursing his lips. “Unfortunate, but not unexpected.”

“You’ve done this before?” Ren asked curiously, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into his pocket.

Cerian’s lips curled into a smile. “I didn’t always do my job down the barrel of a rifle. I’ve performed breaking and entering before, though rarely on places this secure.”

Ren grunted. “Good to know, I guess.”

Cerian set his glass on the table. “We’re finished here. Tell everyone to meet back at the safe house.”

Ren reached back and put his sunglasses on again. “On it. See you there.”

Cerian returned his attention to Solaris HQ, pondering the best form of entry as he sipped his water. He’d wait a few minutes before leaving to avoid attracting suspicion if anyone was watching. If he were EXALT, he’d likely have a few people in disguise within the crowds to watch potential spies. Although he was fairly good at spotting such people, and hadn’t here.

It might be a logistics issue. Solaris Industries might not have enough resources to allocate people to do that day after day, so they might instead devote only for specific instances. Something to consider, but he’d need more information about their security and routines before executing a concrete plan.

He looked down at his watch. Time to head back, there was a lot to do and prepare. He stood and made his way over to the exit. It didn’t take him long to find a bus stop, and after a few minutes additional wait, boarded one and sat in the front end. A perfectly inconspicuous position that wouldn’t attract attention, and in this case his age would help. No one suspected an older man of anything unless they were politicians or rich. In his experience, it was usually both.

But regular quiet old men on a bus? Nah.

No one else commented or spoke to him, just as he preferred it. A few stops later he stepped out and made his way towards the modest hotel that was just across the street. It wasn’t _too_ impressive, but it wasn’t a dump either. Just middle-of the road enough to be inconspicuous.

The room they had based in was on the second floor, and as Cerian made his way up, fingered the key in his hand. He’d considered splitting to several rooms in case one was compromised, but figured that if they were ever compromised, everything else would be as well, at least if their opposition were halfway competent.

Instead he’d rented rooms across different parts of Seattle, all under different aliases of course, in case the one here was compromised. Reaching the door, he inserted the card and entered.

And stared down the barrel of a pistol held by Olivia. After confirming it was him, she put the weapon away a few seconds later. “I think there’s one of those eyeholes on the door,” Cerian commented wryly, amused as he looked at her. “It might be safer than aiming a weapon against whoever comes through the door.”

She flushed slightly. “Point taken,”

“Is everyone back?” Cerian asked as he looked around the small, open room.

“Yes,” Olivia confirmed as she sank into a seat. “Not doing much, as you can see.”

He could, and didn’t really blame them. Ren and Darril were playing chess in the corner, Mary was laying on one of the two beds, typing away on her laptop as usual. Bastion was reading something on the other bed, though all of them looked up as he walked in. “Break over,” Cerian announced as he went over by Mary. “So, what can you tell me?”

Mary pulled out her headphones and looked up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed and rested her feet on the ground to face him. “Right,” she began as the rest of them converged around her. “The good news is that I can get inside Solaris Industries security systems. I can’t tell exactly what’s on there, but there’s some degree of weaponized automation, possibly turrets. I would also guess cameras and mechanized doors.”

Cerian nodded. “That’s good,”

“What’s the catch?” Ren asked, leaning against the wall.

“That I’ll probably only have a limited amount of time before my access is revoked,” Mary answered, looking up at Cerian. “So I won’t know exactly what I’ll control until it actually happens. Once I find a hole in their security, we’ll only have one shot to exploit it.”

Olivia frowned at that. “Can’t you just go in, look around, leave and then find another hole to exploit later? Seems better than only one shot.”

“Except that then Solaris Industries knows someone is trying to get in,” Darril pointed out. “Even if they don’t know who, we’ve tipped them off that _someone_ is trying to get in.”

“Someone _professional_ ,” Mary amended. “Just from what I’ve seen, there are always dozens of wannabe hackers trying to get in without a clue of what they’re doing. There are very few who can actually take control. _I_ can, but that will draw attention.”

“It’s nice that you can get into their security,” Cerian redirected. “But what about accessing their servers. We’re here for information, remember.”

“Yes…” Mary let out. “That. The short version is that I can’t access them remotely. All the servers are local and cannot be accessed wirelessly. They were smart when they set this up. I won’t even be able to access it if you directly give me access to the server. All I can do is locate what drive has the information we want.”

“So then it would have to be physically removed,” Cerian finished, pursing his lips. “Which would mean we’d need to enter Solaris HQ itself.”

“Precisely,” Mary confirmed with a nod.

That was going to make this difficult, but not impossible. “Then we need a way to enter Solaris Industries. Preferably without drawing attention.”

“If I had one of their keys, I could make some fake IDs,” Mary told him. “But short of kidnapping one of the guards, I’m not sure we could get one without _someone_ noticing.”

Cerian smiled. “Incorrect,” he looked over at Ren. “I assume the guards don’t live there, do they?”

“I think some of them might, actually,” Ren answered, looking up in thought. “But I did see a couple leaving. Going home I guess.”

Olivia smiled as she realized where this was going. “Ah, I see. Perhaps we can pay one of them a visit when they’re not fully conscious.”

“Then we have an objective,” Cerian confirmed. “Mary, keep find an exploit to use when we’re ready. Everyone else, we’ll spend the next few days looking out for targets. Remember that these are professionals and might notice obvious tails.”

They all nodded in affirmation. “In the meantime,” he finished. “Everyone look up everything we have on Solaris Industries and Mr. Solaris himself. We might find something useful.”

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

Abby raised an eyebrow as she read the list. “Vahlen’s been busy. Very busy.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Ruth asked as she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “Some of the soldiers are calling it humanity’s ‘next evolution.’” She snorted at that, but still seemed in good spirits.

Abby frowned. “You don’t think so? Improved eyesight, strength and stamina seem like some kind of evolution, even if not a _drastic_ one.”

“It’s a performance enhancer,” Ruth shrugged. “That’s what it ultimately boils down to. We didn’t call strength enhancing drugs “the next evolution of humanity,” this is pretty much the same thing, just a lot better and more noticeable.” She shrugged. “The debate over where we came from may still go on, but humans reached their final form a long time ago. All we can do is improve it.”

Abby didn’t entirely agree with that. This may not be evolution in the traditional sense, but it was self-created and controlled evolution without a doubt. Stuff that had been debated and theorized about in science for decades, and was now actually happening before her. She’d always assumed it would be with prosthetics and robotics, since they were easier to create and develop. But genetic modification on _this_ scale was something she hadn’t expected for a few decades, if not longer.

“So are you going to undergo anything?” She asked Ruth, looking up once again.

Ruth pursed her lips. “Perhaps. But I’ve disliked using performance enhancers, even if they give me an edge. I haven’t needed them before, and likely won’t now.”

Abby frowned. “This is nothing like taking a drug. It’s an alteration to your actual _body_. Besides, there’s been no side effects-“

“Maybe I don’t want them messing with my body,” Ruth cut off sharply, raising a hand.

Abby smiled as she suddenly got why Ruth was so defensive about this. “You’re uncomfortable about all this.”

Ruth practically glared at her, it wasn’t _mean_ , but certainly wasn’t a friendly look. “Yes. Took you long enough to get the hint.”

“Why?” Abby asked curiously, setting the tablet down. “I would have thought you’d be all for this kind of advantage?”

“In natural amounts,” Ruth corrected. “Like, a straight strength or stamina boost. Not the ability to climb walls or jump a couple stories,” she scowled. “It’s unnatural. Humans shouldn’t be able to do that. And if I’ve learned anything from overly confident scientists, it’s that the more perfect it seems, the likelier that something will go horrible wrong down the line. Genetic enhancement on this scale _will_ have consequences, but everyone’s so wide-eyed with what we can do now that they’re not thinking about the cost or more importantly, what will go wrong.”

“I doubt the Commander would have approved this if he thought there would be irreversible issues,” Abby pointed out. “He wouldn’t put something that would harm his soldiers, even if Vahlen felt it worth it.”

Ruth raised an eyebrow. “ _Really,_ ” she drawled. “I suppose you haven’t see the two of them lately. I’m not sure the Commander is fully objective when it comes to her.”

Oh right, Abby knew what she was talking about now. “I thought that was just a rumor.”

“I’m sure it is,” Ruth agreed, smirking slightly. “But trust me, I know. They both like each other and I doubt either of them would deny it if asked.”

Abby sighed. Knowing Ruth she was probably right about it. “Too bad,”

“What’s _that_ mean?” Ruth asked, bemused. “ _You_ disapprove?”

Abby shrugged, not really thinking it worth a discussion. “I don’t particularly like Vahlen. She’s brilliant, no question, but he could do better.”

“Likely,” Ruth agreed. “But you don’t always control who you meet in your life or who you like. I don’t think it’s unrealistic to think something could have happened, especially since they work closely together. He likely has a different view of her too, people tend to act differently around people they like, not necessarily purposefully either.”

Abby shook her head. “It’s really none of our business, and we’ve gotten way off topic. I think I’ll undergo the modification. Maybe prove that it’s not going to kill you.”

Ruth raised an eyebrow. “I’ll wait for the second round, once all the kinks are worked out. The mods will probably be a little more stable then.”

“Suit yourself,” Abby answered, looking at the empty desk. “So when was Zhang supposed to come up?”

“I’d assume soon,” Ruth guessed, walking over to the desk and picking up one of the folders. “He’s probably taking with the Commander or something.”

Abby eyed the file in her hand. “You sure you should have that?”

“Probably not,” Ruth sighed and reluctantly set the file down. “I really hate it when people leave folders out that likely contain some very secret and interesting information.”

“You don’t know for sure,” Abby pointed out. “That might just be a basic leger.”

“Probably,” Ruth chuckled. “Intelligence agencies don’t tend to leave top-secret information around for random people to stumble upon.”

“Unless they’re really bad at their job,” Abby added with a smile.

Ruth shuddered. “Don’t plant that nightmare in my head.”

Abby looked at the powerless holotable. “So where do you think he’ll be sending us next?”

“Either Solaris Industries or EXALT media plants,” Ruth guessed, resting her chin on her fist and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Since Solaris isn’t going anywhere, he’ll likely be going after the more immediate media threat.”

“Couldn’t that be a bit of a stretch?” Abby asked. “Just because they reported, or didn’t report on a particular issue doesn’t exactly make them complicit?”

“But it makes them pretty damn suspicious,” Ruth muttered, her eyes turning hard. “Even if it was questionable, we don’t ask questions like that. Very few things are certain in this job, and we have to trust our superiors know what they are doing. Thinking otherwise only leads to unnecessary problems. Trust me on that.”

“But Zhang isn’t infallible,” Abby argued. “No one is.”

“Including you,” Ruth stated back, no malice in her voice. “When it comes down to it, Zhang is the Director. You are not. He knows the whole picture. You do not. He is the final authority. You are not. He will not use us frivolously or dishonestly, Abby. Paranoia is healthy in spies, but not when it interferes with the mission.

Abby swallowed. “Understood,” she said softly, then fell silent.

She wondered if she _was_ being overly suspicious and paranoid. Zhang hadn’t been anything less than straightforward with them so far, but she knew he was capable of ordering brutal acts, and when it came down to it, if he gave her an order she thought was wrong, she’d likely follow it. Because as Ruth had said, he knew the whole picture. She did not. Or perhaps most importantly:

He was the Director.

She was not.

***

_England, Falka Intelligence Control_

Elizabeth’s headquarters were always a hive of controlled chaos and frantic energy. Today was no different. Unlike many of EXALT’s family headquarters, the Falka family had chosen to build their hub in a fairly remote area, out of the public eye to avoid attracting attention. With that concern removed, they now housed an intelligence control center that rivaled any in the world.

Agents and analysts walked past her, standing over computers or debating in front of screens or holotables as they worked ceaselessly to direct the global narrative. A good portion were dedicated solely to communicating with and observing EXALT operatives out in the world, influencing it in their own small way.

The center hub was a massive room with about half of it dedicated to rows of computers of various types and speeds, the other half had several small holotables where agents and operatives stood around discussing various figures or locations. Screens covered the walls, most of them playing a different news station from around the world. Several were dedicated to showing active agents and deployment locations.

Directly at the far left was an elevated room with a glass window, allowing whoever was inside to look over the main hub. Naturally, it was Elizabeth’s office. Grandiose, and what she considered unnecessary, but Elizabeth was in charge here and since it didn’t overly affect efficiency, Saudia didn’t see a reason to think about it too much.

She climbed the stairs and punched in her override code into the door, which then slid open noiselessly and stepped inside. A holotable was directly off to the left, and turned on, though Saudia didn’t bother to look what it was exactly. Filing cabinets were built directly into the walls and several additional screens dotted the walls and the newscasters speaking provided decent background noise.

Elizabeth herself stood leaning against the wall by the window, not using her desk as usual. She’d never really liked sitting in one place for very long and often performed her work while pacing or doing some kind of physical activity. Hence why several more tablets rested on her desk for when the tablet she was holding inevitably ran out of power.

She lowered it and nodded towards Saudia. “Director, glad you made it,”

“Likewise,” Saudia agreed as she walked up. “I assume you have some updates?”

“All prepared,” Elizabeth assured her as she handed Saudia the tablet. “We’ve tracked Subject Four to where she is currently staying.” Saudia looked down at the tablet and saw pictures of a house, along with an address. “As predicted, she made contact with her boyfriend and they went back to his place.”

“Risky,” Saudia commented, furrowing her eyebrows. “Are they still there?”

“I have three agents watching every exit and have placed trackers and cameras on the vehicles,” Elizabeth stated firmly. “If they leave, we will know about it.”

Saudia lowered the tablet. “So we know where they are. What are you planning?”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. “ _That_ is something I felt should be discussed with you. There are a couple options open to us,” Saudia motioned for her to continue. “One,” Elizabeth continued, cracking her knuckles. “We strike here and now. Take both of them into custody now and return them to the Bastion as quickly as possible.”

“That is our objective, yes?” Saudia pressed, raising an eyebrow. “What else do you have in mind?”

“We wait,” Elizabeth finally said after some obvious hesitation. “Subject Four is becoming complacent. A couple additional days and she might think we’ve lost her. Then they’ll both try to get to XCOM. Depending on how they go about it, it could provide us with an opportunity.”

Elizabeth paused. “Specifically, once we know how they plan to get into XCOM, we can replicate it with our own agents. We strike before they go through, of course, but now we know a way to infiltrate them.”

Saudia considered that. In the grand scheme of things, XCOM was far more important than one test subject. Then again, the woman in question had an undefined amount of power, some of which extended to mental manipulation. “We don’t know fully what she can do,” Saudia told her. “The longer you wait, the greater chance she notices something is off. She isn’t an idiot.”

“True,” Elizabeth nodded. “Fortunately, her boyfriend is part of the French police, and since he is experienced in this kind of scenario, she might be inclined to let her guard down and rely on him to keep a lookout.”

“Is that a concern?” Saudia asked.

Elizabeth snorted. “Hardly. His psych profile is typical for a cop. No surprises or anything exceptional. My agents will not be spotted by him.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “Be careful with promises, Spymaster. They have consequences.”

Elizabeth’s eyes bored into hers, cold with determination. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake, _Director_. You don’t need to remind me.”

Saudia met her gaze firmly. “Good. I suspect I know what you’ll advocate for, but I must ask what you want to do?”

“Put bluntly, we stand to gain more by waiting and seeing what they do,” Elizabeth answered nonchalantly. “Provided you can work without your pet Fury for a few more days, we might gain a means to infiltrate and sabotage XCOM.”

Saudia was silent for a few moments. “Granted,” she finally let out, fixing a hard glare on Elizabeth. “However, if you even _suspect_ that they’re onto you, I want them captured immediately. Understood?”

Elizabeth nodded once. “Yes, Director.”

“What about the rest of XCOM?” Saudia continued. “Officially or not, they have an intelligence force that has so far managed to outwit you. What are you doing about that?”

Elizabeth flushed slightly, but otherwise didn’t comment and instead simply answered the question. “First identifying the circumstances surrounding both attacks. I believe the genesis of that attack could be traced back to one of the protest groups we used to destabilize Germany.”

Saudia nodded. “Continue,”

“I can only assume XCOM extracted what she knew, which might have been the existence of our shell companies,” Elizabeth continued. “Yes, I ordered the most likely ones shut down, but I suppose that I figured that our Russia plant wasn’t among those compromised. It shouldn’t have been at any rate, but I can’t think of another way they could have found it aside from luck.”

“And Japan?” Saudia asked.

“I will attribute that to us being too obvious,” Elizabeth answered. “They probably noticed increased activity in that area and probably found us from there. Which does reveal that they probably have at least some agents in major cities across the world.”

“I’d think that was obvious,” Saudia pointed out.

“I thought I was dealing with a smaller organization,” Elizabeth defended. “Clearly I was wrong and their intelligence branch is much larger than I assumed. Not nearly as large as ours, but large enough to likely have permanent operatives stationed in major cities. Beijing, London, New York, those places, along with a few mobile operatives.”

“Do you have any names?” Saudia asked.

“Only two for certain,” Elizabeth answered as she picked up a tablet and began tapping. “One of them expected, the other not.” She handed Saudia the tablet.

“Abigail Gertrude,” Saudia read, her eyebrow raising with interest as she read the file. “A surgeon. Fabricated, I assume?”

“If so, whoever did it did an excellent job,” Elizabeth shrugged. “I’ve found everything possible on her and she did attend and graduate med school, she apparently did a short stint with the Marines but all records seem to vanish a couple months after enlistment.”

“Seems pretty clear,” Saudia muttered. “An interesting recruit. Any indication of why she would be chosen?”

“No,” Elizabeth let some curiosity slip into her voice. “And I found that curious. It makes sense that XCOM would recruit her, but her skills are suited to the battlefield, not intelligence work.”

Saudia swiped and a new picture appeared of a smiling motherly woman. “Ruth Shira,” Saudia muttered. “Well, well. A Kidon agent. How surprising.”

“We suspected the Mossad and XCOM were working together,” Elizabeth added. “This just proves it. They probably have more, too.”

“I don’t suppose you have an idea where they’ll strike next?” Saudia asked, setting the tablet down.

Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back. “I do, actually. But you won’t like it.”

“Probably not,” Saudia agreed, crossing her arms. “But go ahead.”

“We can assume XCOM recovered the files showing the transfers of money between Solaris Industries and our former smuggling plant,” Elizabeth began slowly. “And even though I’m sure protocol was followed on the recent attack, we can’t rule out that they know the location of the Mercado headquarters.”

She’d been afraid of that, but wasn’t overly surprised. “So hitting bigger and bigger targets then.”

“Yes…” Elizabeth answered hesitantly. “But I think it’s because they have little choice. They go wherever the intel takes them, in which case it happens to be major targets this time. But I’ve already increased agent deployments in both countries. If XCOM attacks again, I suspect it will be there.”

“Hmm,” Saudia pondered that. “Perhaps we can use that. I doubt they’ll want to stop after such an attack.”

“Probably not,” Elizabeth agreed. “But I highly doubt that they’ll attack either openly. They don’t have proof, as far as I know, that Solaris Industries is part of EXALT, and the political repercussions for attacking a building on Chinese soil would be catastrophic for XCOM, regardless if they had proof or not, and Mercado has enough people to delay any sort of investigation.”

“We’re not taking chances this time,” Saudia said after thinking a few minutes. “Regardless of the low odds of an attack, I want them prepared. All of the families prepared. The Venator family will be providing additional security in case of an XCOM attack, as well as our major bases.”

Elizabeth frowned at that prospect, but fortunately didn’t protest it. “If you believe so, then do it.”

“You’ll thank me if there’s an attack,” Saudia stated. “Now what else do you have?”

Elizabeth walked past her towards the holotable and stood and the end of it. Saudia walked over to the other end and looked down at the map displayed. South America. Well, this should be interesting. Elizabeth rested her hands on the holotable and looked directly at Saudia, resolution in her eyes. “You wanted a direct blow against XCOM? Here it is. I’m going to collapse the Brazilian government.”

Saudia blinked. “I thought you wanted it to be a bit more gradual? Allow us time to infiltrate the government-”

“I would,” Elizabeth interrupted raising a hand, steel in her voice. “But as you’ve made _quite_ clear, we don’t have time for that. We might not control the new government, but I’ll ensure it descends into chaos. They’ll be forced to divert everything to even begin to stabilize their country, and pull out of XCOM as a result.”

“Are you sure of that?” Saudia pressed.

“No!” Elizabeth slammed her fist onto the holotable with a startling _bang_. “I’m not _‘sure’_ of _anything, Director!_ Nothing is _ever_ certain here! I can make _predictions_. I can make plausible _assumptions_. I can make the best possible guess with what I have but I cannot completely guarantee _everything_ will turn out just how I _expect_ it!”

She began pacing, glaring with unrestrained frustration. “I can tell you everything I know, sources, predications, statistics, but there’s always going to be outliers, odd scenarios where things _don’t go as planned_. I don’t think you get that _nothing goes as planned here_. The _will_ be problems and issues, it’s _inevitable_.” She let out a sharp laugh. “You really think I can control _every_ aspect of a collapsing country? _No, Director._ No I can’t. I can _direct_ it. I can _influence_ it. But unfortunately, I can’t read minds; I can’t know for sure how the government would react. Partially because _you’re_ threatening me!”

“ _Me?”_ Saudia demanded, her tone cold. “I have not _threatened_ you.”

“Oh, right,” Elizabeth growled. “No, I should be glad you didn’t threaten execution. No, instead you threatened my _life_. _Everything_ I’ve worked towards, my _family,_ my _children!_ You threatened to reduce all that to _nothing_. Condemn me to _nothing_. If that isn’t a _threat, Director,_ than I don’t know what is!”

She paused, breathing heavily. “You’re not unreasonable,” she muttered, her tone much weaker. “I didn’t think you were. But I think that in your growing feud with XCOM, you’ve forgotten _everything else_ I do to make sure we aren’t _discovered_.” She looked up at Saudia with renewed frustration. “You know how many operations I’m personally overseeing now? Operations that ensure that our existence remains a _secret_? Operations that ensure we can direct the world as _we_ see fit?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. But I do this _every day_.”

She spread her arms towards the window. “ _This_ is my life _Director,_ every possible moment is spent here. I pretty much _live_ here these days. While XCOM has become your focus, you seem to forget that the world _doesn’t_ revolve around them.”

She took a deep breath and walked back over to the holotable, looking down at the map. “I’m throwing away months and years of preparation to make you happy, Director. The least you could do is trust me not to fuck it up.”

Saudia wasn’t quite sure the best way to respond after her outburst. Elizabeth, or for the matter, _anyone_ , had never talked to her like that. Objectively, she could see how it could be warranted, but she didn’t appreciate being yelled at. She didn’t exactly appreciate the insinuation that she had it easy because she was the Director.

But she believed that this was partially her fault. Since Elizabeth had looked torn between fury and bursting into tears, she suspected that her words had unintentionally been the final straw that broke the monstrous load of stress that had piled upon her. Out of all the positions, Spymaster was admittedly the most stressful of the lot.

Even normal work ‘everyday’ work often involved nations here. Combined with the invasions, aliens, XCOM and her own threat, it was no wonder Elizabeth had finally snapped at her. Saudia suspected that if she hadn’t been the victim, someone else would have been. She wondered if Elizabeth would regret this later, but her words had the weight of someone who’d been thinking them for a long time, though never saying them.

The best thing to do now, would be to acknowledge it and move on. Saudia inclined her head. “Ok,”

Elizabeth looked up, clearly expecting some kind of retaliation. Saudia just walked up by her. “Proceed as you will. You’ll have whatever you need. Just forward me the details,” Saudia paused. “Should this operation go as planned, you will not have to fear being removed from you position. But second chances have to be earned, Spymaster. This is how you earn yours.”

With that she walked out of the room, leaving her standing by the holotable. With the extra incentive to succeed, Saudia was fairly confident that things would turn out fine. Elizabeth might feel her mistakes were justified with the amount of stress she was under, but if she couldn’t handle it, then someone else could. Appealing to sympathy like that wasn’t the most effective form of persuasion on her, but she was willing to overlook it this time.

She spotted a couple of agents walking in and recognized one of them. Ah, this could be good. She altered her pace and walked to intercept the leftmost one. He was smaller than average, a little less than Elizabeth to be exact, but definitely lithe and fit. He saw her approach and adjusted his glasses as he walked up.

“Director,” he greeted, not quite able to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Conway,” she greeted cordially, inclining her head. “I trust you’re doing well?”

“Of course, Director,” he answered neutrally. “Though we’ve been busy lately. I trust your meeting with Elizabeth went well?”

“I know where we stand now,” Saudia answered. “It was informative.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Are you leaving now?”

“Yes,” Saudia answered. “Where are you going, if I may ask?”

“Just looking over some new operations,” he answered initially until Saudia raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Before you get too involved, I think you should go up to your wife,” Saudia suggested, nodding towards the room where Elizabeth was. “She could use a hug.”

“Ah,” was all he said. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Good,” she patted him once on the shoulder. “Good day, Conway.”

That done, she began heading back toward the hanger to fly to the Mercados. She had an idea now how to prepare for the next XCOM attack.

***

_China, Mercado Estate_

It wasn’t the largest building in Beijing, but nor was it something to scoff at. The Mercado estate towered over most of the buildings around it, though no one really bothered to ask who actually _owned_ it. The building was devoid of logos or any kind of identification. The paperwork was squared away with the Chinese government, and constant intervention from Mercado ensured that no one official poked around.

Because what was inside was a collection of the most advanced labs and advanced technology in the world. It was a technical mecca that was hidden inside the drab and gray concrete encasing it. Saudia wondered if the citizens ever wondered what was inside. In the end, it didn’t matter. In accordance with the rest of the building, the security was outstanding.

Autoturrets had been built into the ceilings of every floor at various choke points. Entire floors could be locked down and flooded with toxins if the situation called for it. The glass was bulletproof and the foundation had been built to withstand every natural disaster possible. In theory at least; China didn’t usually have to worry about that sort of thing and it couldn’t be tested much outside simulations.

The point was that it was a death trap for any uninvited guests. The only other locations that rivaled it in terms of sheer defensibility were the Bastion and the Venator Stronghold. Should XCOM decide to come here, they’d be in for quite the surprise.

There were approximately two entrances in the entire building. Several dummy ones leading to trapped rooms were on the floor, but only to comply with Chinese regulations, though they didn’t look to hard to begin with. The other, which she was now entering, was on the roof and only accessible by helicopter.

Saudia stepped out and approached the glass doors. Unlike some other buildings, the Mercado estate didn’t have the helipad on the very top roof. There was still a floor of rooms she could enter right away. The true roof was above them, but she didn’t really think about it much. She pressed in her code on the pad that was just to the right of the doors and it slid open a few seconds later.

She stepped into the Estate and observed the artistic pieces before her. Lush carpets covered the floors and antique furniture was placed strategically around the room. Her lips twitched into a smile as she looked at the pieces before her. Diguon did enjoy collecting odd-looking pieces of art, but some of his display pieces were just bizarre.

The one before her looked like a large black pyramid, and aside from looking neat, she didn’t know why he’d chosen to display this one front and center. Whatever, she didn’t understand the fascination and she didn’t need to. Different tastes and all that. She turned to her right and proceeded into the next room.

Unlike most of the families, the Mercado family was perfectly comfortable with displaying the wealth at their disposal, since this entire floor was draped in luxury, deep red carpets, paintings and chandeliers were in every room. It honestly felt rather pointless to her, the only ones who could ever be impressed with this display wouldn’t be allowed to begin with.

She finally stepped into the massive room that took up the rest of the floor. It was wide open with the same carpets, furs and luxury displayed everywhere else, though in the middle was an extension that displayed a massive red hologlobe. It was raised above the ground floor, making it seem like a depression around it.

Diguon and Zara were standing in front of it, discussing something from the looks of it. At times she wondered if Diguon was playing a massive joke, because this whole display reeked of a supervillain who tried too hard. The massive red hologlobe didn’t exactly help with that picture either. Putting those thoughts out of her mind, she began walking towards the duo.

Zara was wearing her combat attire as usual, with her plasma rifle slung over her shoulder and bandanna around her neck. Diguon in contrast was in an EXALT-issue white lab coat, which told her he’d likely been working shortly before she showed up.

“I hope you haven’t started too much without me,” Saudia commented as she walked up. Both of them turned as she walked up.

“Director,” Diguon greeted, inclining his head.

“Glad you made it, Saudia,” Zara also welcomed. “No, I just got here too.”

“Then let’s get started,” Saudia stated. “We’re assuming all the protocols were followed and the systems wiped during the Japan attack, but there is a possibility that this Estate is compromised.”

Zara snorted. “Tell XCOM good luck. This place is a fortress.”

“But not invulnerable,” Diguon pointed out. “You might wish a fight, Zara, but my people are not soldiers like yours.”

Saudia could see the Zara strain not to roll her eyes. “True, but you have more than just soldiers at your disposal. With my soldiers supporting you, XCOM will pay heavily to take this place.”

“Elizabeth believes an attack is possible,” Saudia agreed. “At the very least, movements on this estate. We can’t afford to take chances?”

Diguon looked at her, his expression unreadable. “I presume you have a suggestion?”

Saudia frowned. “There is no suggestion. We have contingencies in the event the Estate is compromised. All we need to do is execute them.”

“That could take time,” Diguon warned. “We have quite a few operations running-“

Saudia raised a fist, cutting him off. “Then I suggest you start relocating as soon as possible. Better our projects be put on hold than lose everything in the event of an attack.”

Zara snorted. “Right. Assuming XCOM actually has the guts to _attack_ a skyscraper in _China_. That would be political suicide if they attacked without informing the Chinese.”

“They probably won’t,” Saudia agreed. “But even if they do go through the Chinese first, that won’t give us enough warning to evacuate. This is a precaution, and isn’t up for debate either.”

Diguon pursed his lips. “I see your reasoning, Director. I will begin relocation immediately.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded, turning her attention to Zara. “Bring your best soldiers here. If XCOM attacks they’ll be entering a death trap, your soldiers will ensure they don’t win without a costly fight.”

Zara smiled. “With pleasure. My soldiers beat them once, we can do it again.”

Privately, Saudia didn’t think a second round would for sure go in Zara’s favor. Unlike Mexico, XCOM would be expecting them and would no doubt send whoever they could. “Ensure the computers are wiped thoroughly,” she instructed Diguon. “Backup what you need and do it today.”

Diguon sighed. “Yes, Director.”

“You seem pretty sure they’ll be coming,” Zara commented, appraising her curiously. “Do you know something we don’t?”

“Logic,” Saudia answered. “Assuming this estate is compromised, it’s a choice between here and Solaris Industries for them. An attack here they could justify easier, and Elizabeth concurs here. Not to mention they’ll likely want payback after her next move.”

Zara raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “What’s she going to do this time? Fake an XCOM soldier strangling a puppy to death? It’d have the same effect as before.”

“Not quite,” Saudia answered, ignoring her sarcasm. “She’s said she’s going to collapse the Brazilian government.”

Zara blinked and Diguon looked almost impressed. “Unfortunate that our plans had to be scrapped,” Diguon said. “But it will strike a decisive blow against a Council Nation.”

“ _How_?” Zara demanded incredulously, stepping forward.

“A coordinated data dump displaying the full corruption of that country,” Saudia answered. “Journalists have been uncovering parts of it for months, but she’s going to bring everything they’ve done to light. The collapse that follows will warrant Brazil pulling out, and Elizabeth added a few files showing that the journalists leaking the corruption were funded by the Israeli and German governments.”

“In an attempt to actively turn them against XCOM,” Diguon nodded as he followed. “She can’t fabricate XCOM funding them directly, but she _can_ for their allies. Brazil will no doubt demand answers from XCOM, and put XCOM in the position of either having to denounce or support their allies. Either way loses support.”

“Regardless, Brazil will have to withdraw from the Council and preserve its own country first,” Saudia continued. “How XCOM handles this will determine if it on good or bad terms.”

“Why the hell didn’t she open with this?” Zara wondered. “Instead of…whatever that stunt before was?”

“Caution and paranoia,” Saudia sighed. “She likes hard facts and as much information as possible. Admirable, but I’ve illustrated that results are more important now. _Actual_ results.”

“About time,” Zara muttered. “Well, hopefully she can pull that off. In the meantime, I’ll have my soldiers ready for an XCOM attack here.”

“See to it,” Saudia ordered, before turning to Diguon. “You understand your part?”

He nodded. “Yes, Director.”

“Good,” Saudia said. “Then I think that’s all that needs to be discussed.”

“What of the aliens?” Diguon asked. “Have they communicated anything recently?”

“No,” Saudia shook her head. “Not yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear from them soon. They’ll need to be reassured of our capabilities. It’ll be handled.”

“Let’s hope so,” Zara muttered. “Good luck with that, Saudia. In the meantime, I’ve got a trap to prepare.”

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

_“Yes, he arrived a few hours ago,”_ Matthew confirmed as Saudia kept pacing. _“I’ve let him know what we’re doing, but he just took it and walked off.”_

“He likes to work on his own,” Saudia confirmed with a sigh. “You don’t have to worry about him, though. He won’t interfere in anything you have planned.”

Matthew pursed his lips. _“He better not. But I’ll take your word for it.”_

Saudia nodded. The Chronicler was somewhat fickle sometimes, but he did keep to himself and didn’t like to tell others his complete plans. But he was trustworthy and that granted some leeway in her eyes. “I spoke with Elizabeth and Diguon, we have a plan to respond to XCOM.”

His eyes lit up. _“Ah, excellent. Zara updated me on the plan for the Mercado estate. Not ideal, but better than potentially losing everything. What about Elizabeth?”_

“The Brazilian government is going to collapse,” Saudia informed him. “I’d expect there to be repercussions in America. Consider this a heads up.”

He whistled. _“Interesting. Unfortunate we’ll likely not gain control of Brazil, but something needed to happen. In the meantime, I’ve got some interesting developments in the American military.”_

Saudia nodded. “Go on.”

He picked up a tablet and began reading it. _“The President has ramped up military production to an incredible rate. Every branch is working overtime to gear up and gather more recruits. She’s going to roll out a recruitment initiative in the next week, but the more interesting news is that the experimental warfare divisions across America have got a massive influx of resources.”_

“How?” Saudia asked, frowning. “Wouldn’t Congress need to authorize something like that?”

_“They did,”_ Matthew answered, looking up at her. _“Though not in a straightforward way. American politicians have an annoying habit of including additional stuff in bills without telling anyone, sometimes things not having to do with the bill at all. This was one such inclusion, wrapped in with a bill that authorized the increased military production I told you about. Even if the populace isn’t exactly afraid yet, the politicians certainly are and a strong military is good for them.”_

“Keep an eye on that,” Saudia ordered, thinking. This could be good for them, provided they had the means to see what the United States was developing. They might be able to incorporate some of it into their own military. “In the meantime-“

Her earpiece buzzed and she clicked it immediately. Ethan wouldn’t buzz her if it wasn’t urgent. “What is it?”

_“The Speaker is requesting to speak to you,”_ Ethan updated grimly, his voice tense. _“And he mentioned to me they’re coming here.”_

“What?” Saudia demanded. “ _Now?”_

_“It sounded that way,”_ Ethan confirmed. _“I’m preparing defenses now. I think you should talk to him.”_

She scowled. “Put him through,” looking towards a confused Matthew she explained. “It seems the aliens are deciding to pay another unexpected visit.”

He pursed his lips. _“Not good.”_

“He’s being patched through now,” Saudia answered. “Let’s see what he wants. I’ll cut off holographic representation. You can still watch, but he won’t see.”

Matthew gave a quick nod and she shut off his hologram and a quarter-minute later, the hologram of the alien appeared, looking as smug as ever. She wondered if he had any other cloths besides the same black ones he always wore. _“Director,”_ he greeted smoothly. _“A pleasure to see you again.”_

She straightened to her full height. “I presume there is a reason you’re contacting me?”

The smile vanished from his face and his featured hardened to a decidedly alien expression that looked torn between seriousness and fury. _“Right to business, I see. Yes, Director, there is. We are coming to the Bastion to retrieve the remainder of the Furies. Since you requested a message ahead of time, I felt it prudent to honor it.”_

Saudia glared at him. “So soon after the last one? You’re treading a thin line, Speaker. You can only come and take what you want so many times before there are… _issues_.”

_“I have my orders,”_ the Speaker stated firmly. _“This is not a request, Director. We will discuss this further once I land.”_ He inclined his head and ended the call.

She activated Matthew’s hologram again and he was staring in the place the Speaker had been, arms crossed. _“They are becoming a problem.”_

“Agreed,” Saudia muttered. “We might have to sever ties sooner than later.”

_“I’ll let you deal with them,”_ Matthew said. _“Good luck, Director.”_

He ended his call and she spun on her heel and stormed to the hangar. This was pushing a line, even for an alien species that so obviously considered themselves superior. It was a blatant showing of authority that she was currently forced to accept or be attacked. It was becoming closer to a hostile takeover and this scenario only had several options. Play along, or go to war.

And they weren’t quite at the level to challenge the aliens yet, especially with XCOM hunting them.

She reached the hangar where Ethan and twenty of his soldiers stood ready for the alien’s arrival. She’d learned from last time and the Bastion was staffed to capacity, militarily, with dozens more soldiers throughout the building in addition to all the integrated defenses. Should the aliens push to far, she was certain they would be defeated.

“Open it,” she ordered the guard standing by the hangar door. He nodded and the large door opened while squeaking and groaning from the cold. Just outside she saw the same UFO that had visited the Bastion before, or at least the same kind.

Just outside the hangar was the Speaker, and only the Speaker. She frowned. Hmm. His entourage must have either stayed in the ship, or he’d come alone, which she found highly unlikely. The alien glanced up at the rising hangar door, and hands clasped behind his back, approached her.

She raised a hand, motioning her soldiers to stay in place while she walked forward toward him. He stooped about twenty feet from the soldiers, clearly waiting for her to arrive. At this distance, they could speak in relative privacy, which was no doubt what the alien wanted.

“Director,” he greeted, inclining his head.

“Speaker,” she returned, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

He looked behind her, the corners of his lips twitching. “Tell me, Director, do you greet all your guests with such an escort, or only your allies?”

“Only ones who misjudge their authority,” Saudia answered, looking down at him. “There are limits, Speaker. Ones your superiors do not seem to understand.”

He raised a hand in deference. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I am not responsible for this. I would prefer we leave you to your own devices. But the Elders feel otherwise, and have sent me to convey that they are… _displeased_ with the current state of XCOM and humanity as a whole.”

Ah, so that’s was what this was about. “They are being dealt with,” Saudia stated, wishing it was a few days in the future. “But these attacks take time, and XCOM is not an insignificant opponent.”

“Is that right?” The alien asked, cocking his head. “You have been attacked twice, two of your major bases are under threat of an XCOM attack and your apparent… _leak_ …to turn the populace against XCOM failed. Neither the Elders, nor I, believe that they are being _dealt with_.”

“We are enacting the proper contingencies we have,” Saudia assured him. “Should XCOM attack either base, they will get nothing. In regards in a more…tangible blow to XCOM, one of the Council Nations will leave within a few days.”

The Speaker appraised her, his eyes hidden behind the spectacles. “That you even have to prepare for such an attack speaks to either your own arrogance, overconfidence or incompetence when dealing with XCOM. You were _warned_ they were a threat, and yet you treated them no differently.” His voice turned harsh. “And now they threaten you. You thrive on secrecy. What use will you be to us when your greatest advantage is stripped away by XCOM?”

“EXALT has survived _centuries_ ,” Saudia responded coldly. “You think this is the first time we have been threatened? You think there haven’t been times when we’ve almost been exposed? This has not been the first time, and likely won’t be the last. XCOM will be stopped, you have my assurance.”

“So I take this to mean you will win if they attack?” The Speaker demanded.

“Without question,” Saudia promised. “If they attack us, they will all die.”

The alien unexpectedly broke into an eerie smile. “For your sake, Director, I hope you are right.”

“Is that a threat?” She demanded.

“A statement,” the alien answered simply. “You are running out of chances to justify our investment with you. Should it get worse, the Elders will see no reason to continue it.”

“Tell me,” Saudia said, glaring at him. “Do you actually speak to the Elders themselves?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Saudia stepped back. “Then tell them the next time they are “displeased” with me, to come down themselves. Unless you come for a separate reason, you will no longer be allowed within the Bastion. I will not deal with intermediaries anymore.”

He stiffened. “Be careful with your requests, Director,” he said softly, his voice turning to a slight hiss at the end. “I assure you that you do _not_ want the Elders to become involved.”

She stared at him coldly. “Your warning is considered. Convey the message to them.”

They looked at each other in silence for a few minutes. “Very well,” the Speaker finally said. “I will. I would suggest you not fail again, should your request be granted.”

“Noted,” Saudia stated. “Convey that we will also not turn any more psionic subjects after the ones you will collect today. Should we agree to turn over more, it will be at _our_ discretion, not yours.”

“You are in no position-“ The Speaker began.

“Yes, I am,” Saudia interrupted, raising a fist. “You are our _allies_ , not our _superiors_. You do not _command_ us. You _work_ with us. We are willing to do that, but we are _not_ underneath you and will not be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?”

“Or what?” The alien hissed, his calm demeanor dropping momentarily.

“Or our alliance will be concluded,” Saudia finished. “We will both lose more by splitting than remaining together. But it will be as equals. Nothing more or less.”

The alien was silent again. “I will convey your… _words_ …to the Elders,” he finally said. “But I will warn you, should the Elders come speak to you in person, do _not_ address them with such disrespect. Not if you value your life.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “Duly noted,” she stepped aside and waved her hand towards the inner hangar. “Now, let’s collect what you came for.”

The Speaker nodded and they both walked further into the hangar towards the final pair of Furies.


	26. Judges

 

_The Citadel, Detention Cells_

Both women stared at each other across the table, one calm, the other nervous. Both had sensors attached to their heads, as well as their chests and other monitored organs. Patricia rapped her fingers on the table as she looked at the woman who was trying her best to compose herself. The longer the silenced stretched, the more the woman’s terror became more apparent.

“You’re afraid,” Patricia finally said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the presence of the quiet beeping of the monitoring machine. “You can admit that, since you can’t really hide it from me.”

“And give you the satisfaction?” The woman hissed, a spike of anger breaking the growing terror. “Never!”

Patricia smiled. She was getting more satisfaction than she’d anticipated from this. “You can’t hide what you’re feeling. Not from me.” She closed her eyes, focusing on the mind in front of her. A quick peek into the source of her terror was very illuminating. It was flashes, a word or two, but it was all she needed.

“What is it you’re afraid of,” she mused rhetorically as she focused. “Let’s see…pain, makes sense, if a bit generic. Betraying EXALT, yes, that seems to be the one growing the fastest…the longer you wait here, the more your fear just giving in. But the biggest reason is…”

Patricia paused and opened her eyes, knowing the woman would see her eyes glowing with psionic energy. “…the unknown,” she finished. “You don’t know just _what_ we do, what we are. You’ve heard the stories, no doubt, but you didn’t think that XCOM was like _this_. And that terrifies you. That we care as little for you as it seemed when we were prepared to execute your people.”

“How….?” The woman whispered, visibly moving back in abject terror, not able to finish the sentence.

“Did I know that?” Patricia finished, resting her arms on the table. “Long story. But the short version is that we don’t need to torture you. We don’t even need to speak to you,” Patricia tapped the side of her head with a finger. “All I need is to read your mind.”

“This isn’t possible…” the woman whispered. “You’re lying!”

Patricia chuckled at that, more out of annoyance than anything. Almost all of them had responded _exactly_ the same way. It was amazing just how much in denial they really were, even if she’d demonstrated so obviously. Luckily after the first three she’d figured out a foolproof method of proving her abilities, and thanks to the practice, could do it while keeping her eyes open.

She first focused on the woman before her, then her vision became unfocused as she found the mind belonging to her. It wasn’t hard, not here, since she felt different and the Citadel had a rather low population. All she wanted here was basic details, names, family, small things.

Patricia found herself visualized in a massive filing room, made sense since this woman was a manager. She picked up and opened one of the files and found it blank. She focused on the sheet of paper in front of her. She waved her hand over it focusing on what she wanted. _Name, date of birth, immediate family._

The page immediately filled with words, all organized and formatted just how she liked it. “Airi Mercado,” she said out loud, the image of the filing room superimposed over the real world. “Born April 21st, 1970. Husband Hideo, killed defending from our attack. Children Daizo and –“

 _“Get out of my head!”_ The shrill voice shook the fictional walls of the filing room and echoed even louder inside her own mind, causing Patricia to wince. She withdrew and refocused on the woman visibly swearing and staring at her, eyes wide with fear.

Patricia clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “Believe me now, _Airi_?”

A few frantic nods was her response. “Good,” Patricia answered, pulling out a pad of paper from the bag she’d brought in. “Now, unless you want me to do that again, _much_ more thoroughly, I suggest you answer our questions.”

“Why even bother?” She spat. “You can just read my mind anyway. Why give me a choice?”

“A courtesy,” Patricia answered. “I’m well aware the mind is not something that should be intentionally violated, but I will do so if necessary. I’d prefer not too, as it’s exhausting and time-consuming for me, not to mention dangerous for you, but several of your friends forced my hand.”

“Then you…” Airi began.

“I did,” Patricia confirmed. “And all their stories lined up, the information exact from each one of them. The threat of seeing just what _was_ in their mind was enough for most of them, though there were several holdouts.” Patricia tapped the table absentmindedly. “But in the end it wasn’t difficult.”

That last part was stretching the truth a bit. She’d been exhausted after each mental examination, and had barely managed to find enough to confirm what she needed to know. She’d needed several hours to recover from each one, but had also gotten better at it each time.

“Wait,” Airi said, leaning forward. “Ok, I’ll tell you. But what’s going to happen to us?”

That was a good question, and she wasn’t exactly sure what the Commander had meant when he’d given his answer. “The Commander will ultimately decide that,” she answered. “If you cooperate, you’ll make it much easier on yourself.”

She sensed some hesitation. “You are going to tell me one way or another,” Patricia warned. “Any hesitation you feel will not matter. Your only choice here is your willingness, or lack thereof.”

“Got it,” Airi muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Patricia nodded. “Is EXALT working with the aliens?”

Airi hesitated, then wrote down the answer on a piece of paper. “Say it,” Patricia ordered. “Do not lie. I’ll know if you do.”

She scowled. “Yes. But it’s only temporary.”

She was telling the truth, but Patricia didn’t really even need to confirm it that way. Her answer was more or less the same as the others. Whether this alliance was temporary or permanent was the source of some diversion, but the answer was always _yes_.

“Good,” Patricia nodded. “What is the extent of your knowledge on EXALT activities?”

“Within Japan,” Airi answered quickly. “I only know a few outgoing locations to China. If you want names of operatives, I can’t help you.”

Patricia nodded. She was telling the truth, though it wasn’t overly helpful. One of Zhang’s agents would likely press her for the details after, but all she needed was confirmations at this point. “Do you know who the leader of EXALT is?”

“Yes,” Airi sighed. “Saudia Vyandar.”

Yep, matched up with everyone else. Patricia had no clue who she was, but knowing who was actually running things would probably help the Commander and Zhang. “Two more questions,” Patricia finished. “Then I’ll leave. Someone will come later and ask you for more details and you will answer them. Understood?”

She nodded, and Patricia felt her resignation, but ultimate acceptance at that. Good enough. “First, do you know the location of the Mercado estate?”

Airi was silent for a few minutes, then bowed her head. “Yes. But I don’t know the address. It only know that it’s in Beijing somewhere. We keep our main bases secret except for those that absolutely need to know. The best I can do is provide you the location where I shipped supplies if it was needed.”

“That will do,” Patricia nodded. “Second, is Matthew Solaris, and Solaris Industries part of, or controlled by EXALT.”

“Yes.”

The answers had ranged from _yes_ to _probably_ , so she was fairly certain that was enough confirmation, at least in this case. It had been somewhat surprising to learn that Solaris Industries was implicated with EXALT, but since she’d only heard of it in passing, wasn’t overly saddened or feeling emotional about it. It did fit with how EXALT operated. Influencing leading people and companies, or in this case, controlling them.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Patricia said, standing and removing the sensors. By now Vahlen should have more than enough data for whatever tests she was running. “It will not go unnoticed.”

Airi didn’t bother to respond as she opened the door and stepped out into the cell.

“Well done,” Zhang complimented without looking at her as he looking into the room through the one-way mirror. “We’ve learned much today thanks to you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Patricia let out tiredly, allowing herself to feel the exhaustion of the entire day. “Are we finished?”

Zhang gave a curt nod. “Yes, Specialist. We will call if you are needed.”

Zhang was similar to the Commander emotionally, but he struck her as _controlled_ rather than _cold_. He didn’t seem to get overly emotional, regardless of the situation, yet here she did detect some faint stirrings of satisfaction rising up.

She did wonder what the Commander would do with them once they were thoroughly debriefed. She’d have to ask later, but for now all she wanted was to sleep and try to avoid the voices and images flashing through her mind now. She didn’t know if they were aftereffects of seeing so many minds, or a consequence of it. But she hoped it would stop after sleep.

She smiled as she felt a familiar mind close and saw Creed with her own eyes. He’d come down with her during the interrogations, and even though he hadn’t been allowed to participate, she was glad he’d been in the general area, for unofficial moral and mental support if nothing else.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to her. “All done?”

She weakly punched him in the chest. “What do you think?” She growled, somewhat annoyed he’d asked such an obvious question. He winced and she felt a spike of embarrassment from him.

“Point taken,” he noted. “What I meant to say was how _are_ you?”

She sighed and they both began walking back toward the barracks. “Exhausted. I need sleep, preferably for a day. But I’ll survive.”

“You deserve it,” he agreed. “You get what you needed from them? All of them?”

“Every last one,” Patricia confirmed, blinking and shaking her head to clear it. “They can’t exactly defend against it. They were all pretty freaked out.”

Creed chuckled. “I’d imagine they were. Most people probably would be knowing you could read their mind.”

She winced. “XCOM not excluded, of course.” The response to learning that she was psionic was…mixed, and from the conflicting emotions she’d felt whenever a glance was directed at her, she didn’t know if they were fine with that or not. To be fair, it seemed to be the newer soldiers, the ones who hadn’t served with her before, but it was still disheartening.

“They’ll accept it eventually,” Creed assured her as they turned a corner. “I’m not the only one who is supporting you here. You shouldn’t worry too much about it; it wasn’t even your choice to begin with.”

“Mm-hmm,” Patricia muttered as they entered the barracks. “I hope you’re right.” She found her bed and sat on the edge and quickly took her boots off, then laid back. Creed handed her another pillow.

“Here you go,” he told her which she took and placed behind her head.

“Thanks,” she answered gratefully and he moved away, presumably to let her get some rest. “Wait.” She called slowly.

He cocked his head. “Yes?”

“Can you…” she waved her hand in a circle. “Stay in this general area? Please? I’m having some kind of aftereffects, it’ll help me focus a bit more if you’re around since…well, I know yours pretty well.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, sitting down on the opposite bunk. “I’ll stay until I think you’re asleep.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.” She closed her eyes and tried to relax as best she could, using his mind as an anchor to dismiss everything else she was seeing. She lost track of time soon after, but fell asleep eventually, happy to finally get some rest from her trying day.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“This is fascinating,” Van Doorn commented as he looked over the summaries that had been compiled by Zhang. “I didn’t exactly expect a secret society to _actually_ be one.”

The Commander had to agree with that. He’d thought of EXALT as an influential organization, and he didn’t think he was wrong on that, but it wasn’t just that. There was an entire culture within this organization. A lot more complex than simply a group wanting to control the world. “I admit, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“No kidding,” Van Doorn shook his head. “They were smart not to have all their leaders be public figures. Aside from Solaris, I’ve never heard of anyone important called Saudia or Diguon.”

“A shame about Matthew,” the Commander mused. “I suppose he was just too good to be true.”

Van Doorn looked up. “Be that as it may, Matthew _has_ done some good, even if it was just a cover.”

“Well, unfortunately for him we can now bring his little empire crashing around him,” the Commander pointed out as he set down his tablet. “Five confessions can’t be overlooked by anyone. Zhang will have a field day putting this together.”

“Though we’ll still need concrete proof,” Van Doorn sighed. “Witnesses are good, but for some reason I’m not sure _‘Coercion by mind reading”_ is going to fly with either the courts or public.”

“Unimportant at the moment,” the Commander said, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. “What matters is that we now have a case against Solaris Industries, should we choose to expose them legally.”

“As opposed to illegally?” Van Doorn asked wryly.

“Unless we gain solid evidence, leaking anything we have isn’t going to work,” the Commander said. “Solaris Industries would likely shut this down as fast as we did with their attempt to defame us. Especially if it’s anonymous.”

“Good point,” Van Doorn grunted. “It looks like you were right about their alliance too, they’re trying to use the aliens.”

“Idiots,” the Commander shook his head. “I suppose when you’ve successfully hidden for who knows how many years, assuming you can exploit an alien species for tech probably seems like a good plan. A shame too. They might have been useful.”

“The good news is that they’ll likely turn on the aliens in the future,” Van Doorn noted. “Which means they won’t be focusing on us.”

The Commander frowned. “I highly doubt that. Assuming EXALT’s ultimate goal is the control of the world, their greatest opponent to that is the UN. Since we’re part of the UN, technically, we’re a threat. They try to use the aliens to get tech to beat us, then turn on the aliens, and reveal themselves as saviors of humanity.”

He snorted. “An impossible scenario, but one they might actually be arrogant enough to believe. No, this will likely end for them with the aliens using them as a puppet or proxy. The human face of their invasion, showing everyone that they aren’t the menace XCOM paints them to be. A brilliant play, if they succeed.”

“Can EXALT really not see that?” Van Doorn wondered aloud, looking up at the ceiling. “A society that can survive without detection this long can’t be completely stupid.”

“Arrogant, not stupid,” the Commander corrected. “Though I do wonder if we’re giving them pause.”

“In any event, we probably know what to expect when we attack this Mercado estate,” Van Doorn redirected, looking back towards his tablet. “Though Beijing is a lot of ground to cover.”

“We’ll manage,” the Commander said. “Once we hit them at their Asia base, we’ll move to Solaris Industries. Combine that with Zhang’s propaganda campaign and EXALT won’t know what hit them. I don’t imagine their alien “allies” will be overjoyed at that either.”

Van Doorn smiled. “True. The aliens are surprisingly invested now, they have a stake in this war. It makes sense they wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

The door suddenly hissed open and Bradford stormed in, flanked by Jackson who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “We have a situation,” Bradford announced without ceremony. His composure seemingly close to breaking.

The Commander immediately turned to him. “What is it?” He demanded.

Jackson walked over the TV and turned it on while Bradford handed his tablet to the Commander. “A major leak just happened in Brazil. Thousands of documents were released by dozens of journalists exposing the corruption within the government.”

The Commander froze and heard Van Doorn’s sharp intake of breath. “How bad is it?” He demanded.

“Look for yourself,” Jackson answered as she turned on the TV. The news station switched to CNN.

 _“Breaking news coming out of Brazil,”_ the commentator spoke in an infuriatingly calm voice. _“The repercussions of one of the most coordinated and damaging leaks in recent history are becoming dangerously apparent. Throughout the country riots are breaking out and there are unconfirmed reports of certain parts of the military staging a coup.”_

The images showed hundreds of citizens shouting and storming the streets, throwing rocks, shoes, bricks, whatever they could find at the first government building they saw. To the Commander’s dismay, he saw that the police weren’t even trying to stop them.

“Is it like that all over?” The Commander asked quietly.

“I’m afraid so,” Bradford confirmed grimly. “And it’s only going to get worse. Much worse.”

“I’m not opposed to exposing the corruption,” the Commander muttered as he looked at the screen. “But not _now_. We can’t afford to have Brazil collapse _now_.”

“What possessed them to release this?” Van Doorn demanded.

“EXALT,” the Commander spat. “Given how coordinated and effective this was. I’m guessing this was in the works long before we entered the picture. But they want to hurt us now and this is a way to do it. Brazil will pull out of the XCOM project.”

“They have to,” Bradford agreed. “Just based on the last few hours, their country is falling apart.”

“Clever,” Van Doorn muttered. “But this is _not_ good for us.”

“No,” the Commander agreed, thinking furiously. “But we can afford it. We’ve gathered enough allies to offset the loss of funding. But this pushes back our goal of supplementing China severely.”

“Can we do anything to offset this?” Van Doorn asked Bradford.

“And say what?” Jackson demanded, motioning to the screen. “’Yes, citizens, your entire government is corrupt, but _please_ don’t revolt until the alien threat is gone, please?’ You really think that would work?”

“It’s out of our hands,” Bradford agreed. “EXALT learned quickly. Hurting our funding is more effective than going after us directly.”

“Unfortunately for them, we know where they are,” the Commander stated grimly as he watched the footage. “Get Zhang up here now. We’re going to hit EXALT back hard. They might have taken down a country, but we’ll bring their empire down around them.”

“On it now,” Bradford nodded. “Jackson, get back to Mission Control and regain order. I want to know the full extent of the damage.”

“Yes, Central,” Jackson nodded and dashed out of the room.

The Commander watched the footage of looting and cheering Brazilians, wondering just what the best way to handle this really was. It was going to cause financial issues, but at least the Council couldn’t pin this on him. But he _could_ pin it on EXALT, and this might be what it took to make the Council understand what they were up against.

Perhaps. But the funds lost here would have to be made up somehow, and he had very limited options. But one crisis at a time.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“Incoming call now,” Bradford informed as he walked up beside him. Van Doorn stood to the Commander’s left as they waited for the Speaker to appear. The screen flashed and the familiar blue silhouette greeted them. The Commander was surprised that he’d somewhat missed the Speaker. Despite the disagreements with the Council, he did respect the Speaker, and the overly dramatic blue lighting was rather endearing now.

 _“Hello, Commander,”_ the Speaker greeted, inclining his shadowed head. _“It is…good…to see you. It has been…too long.”_

“Appreciated, Speaker,” the Commander returned, also inclining his head. “Convey my thanks to the Council for allowing me to handle the attempt to defame this organization. I appreciate it.”

 _“Your quick response was the reason,”_ the Speaker answered. _“Had you not acted swiftly, the Council would have been forced to take…action…Fortunately, that was not needed. Yet now, I fear that it there will be repercussions as a result of…recent events.”_

“Yes,” the Commander agreed. “I would encourage Brazil not to withdraw from the XCOM project, but in this case, I would understand the circumstances.”

 _“The situation in Brazil is deteriorating rapidly,”_ the Speaker updated. _“Though what concerns us is how XCOM is connected to it.”_

The Commander frowned. “Excuse me?”

The Speaker clasped his hands together. _“In addition to the multiple incriminating documents released, it was also revealed that the journalists responsible for releasing them received payment from German and Israeli contacts. Some on the Council find it…suspicious and coincidental.”_

Were they _really_ that desperate? “Speaker,” the Commander began, not bothering to hide his confusion and incredulity. “If certain members of the Council are insinuating that XCOM was somehow responsible for this, I can assure them that is untrue. We were just as surprised as you.”

 _“You had no knowledge of this possibility?”_ The Speaker demanded, leaning forward.

“Not like this,” the Commander shook his head. “I knew there was a massive surge of journalists investigating Brazil, but nothing more.”

“Speaker, this is quite frankly, ridiculous,” Van Doorn interrupted, stepping forward. “Let’s assume that we _did_ know about this. _Why_ would we do this to a nation that isn’t our enemy, as well as weakening humanity and XCOM in the process? It makes no logical or tactical sense.”

The Speaker focused on the Commander. _“The concern is not of XCOM, but of your allies. Regardless of your stances on them, they are linked to this disaster, and that should not be ignored.”_

Of course, no one bothered to mention that this would have never happened if the entire government _wasn’t_ corrupt. But no, it was easier to ignore the context and just blame the ones who toppled the house of cards. If Israel and Germany actually _had_ funded this partially, he wasn’t even particularly mad. But if so, they had terrible timing. “Debatable, Speaker,” the Commander finally said, fixing his eyes on the shadowed face on the screen. “I do not control these countries, and any attempt to link me to this situation is tenuous at best and desperate at worst. XCOM had no knowledge of this, period.”

 _“Your answer will be conveyed,”_ the Speaker nodded. _“Though the question of what prompted this still remains.”_

“A question that can be answered easily,” Bradford said, stepping forward. “EXALT was likely responsible for the first attempt to defame us; this is likely another attempt to sabotage us.”

 _“A fabricated video is one thing,”_ the Speaker answered skeptically. _“But this has thrown a nation into chaos. The level of influence that would have to be exerted would be staggering, and likely impossible. The Council is skeptical of outside sources in this case. Too many reputable journalists have converged together, unless you suspect they are also part of this shadow organization?”_

“Think of the timing,” the Commander pressed. “They wouldn’t _need_ to have the journalists be part of EXALT to use them. They could simply pass the information to them and once the first one publishes, it’s all over.”

 _“But you have no proof,”_ the Speaker stated.

“No,” the Commander admitted. “But we do have proof that EXALT is far larger than we anticipated and we suspect that they’ve infiltrated major Asian countries including China and Japan from recent encounters and gathered data.”

 _“The Council will require more proof,”_ the Speaker warned. _“Speculation will not be enough.”_

He’d discussed this with Bradford and Van Doorn. Until they had an air-tight case with irrefutable proof against Solaris Industries or the actual location of the Mercado estate, the Council didn’t need to know the results of the interrogation. He didn’t think the Council needed to know they had a soldier who was psionic yet. He’d prefer to keep that card to himself until Vahlen either found a way to replicate it or suppress it.

“The point that should be taken from this is that EXALT is likely responsible for this,” the Commander continued. “They _want_ Brazil to leave the Council. They _want_ to connect XCOM to this somehow. Leaving would accomplish exactly what they wanted.”

 _“Unfortunately, it makes little difference,_ ” the Speaker said, straightening up. _“Brazil officially withdrew from the Council one hour ago, citing the need to regain control of the country. The economic damage is extensive, and they cannot afford to invest any additional funding at this time.”_

Well, not unexpected, but he still wasn’t happy. But road bumps happened, and they’d just have to move forward. “Give the Brazilian councilor my regards, and good luck,” the Commander said. “I hope in the future we can work with them to combat the alien threat.”

And he meant that, with one catch.

Should he work with them again, it would not be through the Council.

Every crisis housed an opportunity of some kind, and this opportunity would only come far into the future, but was an opportunity nonetheless. Once Brazil recovered enough, the Commander fully intended to offer it a place in his growing list of allies, further weakening the Council’s control over him. But at best, it would be at least half a year, and that was with a full military crackdown which was looking unlikely.

But he’d deal with that when it came.

 _“It will be done,”_ the Speaker inclined his head. _“We look forward to seeing your next steps in countering the alien threat, Commander. We will be watching.”_

The screen flashed and went black.

“What we expected,” Bradford sighed as he turned to the holotable. “Unfortunate.”

“Nothing we can do at the moment,” the Commander shrugged. “We have to move forward.”

“The aliens have been quiet,” Van Doorn muttered as he went over and turned on the holotable. “They’re probably planning something.”

“We’ll see,” the Commander muttered. “But when they do move, we’ll be ready. Bradford, we’ll need to make up the loss here somehow. Have Jackson put a list of possible countries together.”

Bradford nodded. “Copy that. On the bright side, at least there shouldn’t be any more surprises today.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Van Doorn groaned. “Great job.”

“Fine,” Bradford smirked. “There _will_ be a surprise. A _big_ one.”

“Much better,” the Commander nodded in approval. “But we have work to do. Van Doorn, I’ve narrowed down the list of possible soldiers, can you take a look?”

“Gladly,” Van Doorn agreed and took the tablet and began looking it over.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

The Commander rubbed his forehead and closed the tab of the document he’d been writing. Anything major that impacted his work he always had written himself, and he did consider himself fairly good at it now. But this was going to have a much larger impact than anything before it. It was needed, but the amount of scenarios, variations and political and economic repercussions was massive. It might be time to recruit some experts who specialized in international law.

That might not be a bad idea regardless, since XCOM was going to become a more “public” organization. The more their influence grew, the likelier chance that some countries might ask for their support on various measures. XCOM would not become involved, of course, not officially, but it might not be a bad idea to know the ramifications of various proposals.

Van Doorn might have to be brought on his. He would balk initially, but the Commander was confident he could be persuaded to see the need for this. But now he just needed a break from writing it. Now…China. He wondered if the whole thing with Shun should be confronted directly or just ignored for the moment.

They had tried this once, and they would likely do it again provided he wasn’t careful. But he suspected that they were too busy going through the remains of the Dreadnought now that the UN case was over. As he’d suspected, the UN had delayed it by a few months, but little more. The good news was that everything of value had been taken, power sources, weapons, elerium, MELD. Only the metal remained, though it was a significant amount.

Although, this might not necessarily be a problem, depending on how China decided to use it. Once the aliens truly invaded, the militaries of the world would have to act, and an enhanced Chinese army would be essential in holding Asia. But the problem was of course what they might do _before_ then. Well, hopefully Russia would serve as a counter in case Chinese aggression became too overt.

A few more countries. That’s what was needed before XCOM would leave the Council. Brazil had pushed this back several months at least, but the goal was in sight now. Once they withdrew, full alliances could be established with the United States, Argentina, Japan and perhaps the UK and India. Australia and Canada would probably reject him for sure, and the rest were up in the air. Working directly with XCOM, the Commander suspected that they would increase their funding especially now that they were getting tech in return.

It was a delicate game, especially if some of the Councilors decided to go public on his identity, though that seemed unlikely at this point. That threat that had been hanging over his head from the beginning was growing less and less important the more he thought about it. The Council in general he’d been thinking less and less on as well, as he was focused on _actual_ issues, namely EXALT and the aliens.

Perhaps it was time to come clean. Preempt it and remove that threat once and for all. They’d worked with him long enough, they could form their own conclusions based on what they _actually_ knew, not what the propaganda told them. At this point, he didn’t think that any of them would refuse to work with him anymore, even Shen. Like it or not, they were part of something much larger now and that was more important than the past.

But he still wasn’t completely sure, and if he was wrong, would likely ensure XCOM split or fell apart completely. He wasn’t sure that was a risk that should be taken yet. His intercom started flashing green and beeping. The Commander sighed and hit the answer button, hoping another crisis hadn’t come up. “Central, anything new?”

 _“Uh, you could say that, Commander,”_ Bradford actually sounded stunned, which prompted the Commander to sit up straighter and looked down at the intercom, frowning. This couldn’t be good.

“What happened?” He demanded.

 _“Supreme Leader Iseul Gwan has just asked to speak with you,”_ Central explained. _“Should I put him through?”_

The Commander blinked. The hell? “Are you sure?”

_“Positive,”_

Damn Bradford and his ironic comments. _No more surprises today_. Figured that the esteemed leader of North Korea would want to talk. Which was major, since the Supreme Leader hadn’t opened any official diplomatic channels with _any_ country in years. “Put him through,” the Commander ordered. “Let’s see what he wants.”

He shut the intercom off and rose from his chair, grabbed the remote and turned on the screen in front of him. It was blank for a few seconds, before flashing to reveal Iseul Gwan standing before him, hands clasped behind his back.

He wore the darker gray uniform of the North Korean officers, with several badges attached to the upper left chest per military tradition. He had also forgone the overly ceremonial and ridiculous hat that officers generally worn. Iseul was clearly cut from pure military cloth, and his face reflected that. Sharp, angular and hard, he was a man who took his position seriously and commanded respect. His short black hair was expertly styled, as was expected with a regime as strict as his, but there was a reason people had disliked dealing with the man himself, and upon seeing him now, the Commander could agree that he posed an intimidating figure, despite being older than fifty.

If nothing else, this would be interesting. “Supreme Leader Gwan,” he said cordially. “This is a surprise.”

 _“I’d imagine so,”_ Iseul’s voice had a noticeable accent, but not incomprehensible. _“But your actions, and those of the alien menace, have warranted my attention.”_

“I’m glad you recognize the threat,” the Commander said. “But that would not warrant a personal call from the leader of a country that has isolated itself for decades.”

 _“Because it doesn’t,”_ Iseul stated, his tone barely changing. _“Both of us recognize that the fate of our species is at stake. You have not stood by and watched and neither would I. I believe it is time for my country to take a greater role in the defense of Earth.”_

Was he actually suggesting working _together_? _North Korea?_ “And what role do you envision?” The Commander asked slowly.

 _“That of an ally, preferably,”_ Iseul answered. _“I was skeptical initially when your organization appeared. But your actions and presence have confirmed that you are no United Nations puppet. And in that case, I see no reason to work separately when we will be stronger when our strength is combined.”_

“And just _why_ should I accept you as an ally?” The Commander demanded incredulously. “Many, myself included, have… _issues_ with your country for good reason.”

 _“Understandable,”_ Iseul allowed a dangerous smile. _“But you should know better than anyone that propaganda can be deceiving, Commander. But I would not expect to accept my word alone. Come to my capital, your questions will be answered and we can discuss this more thoroughly and honestly than through a screen.”_

It wasn’t as though there was much of a choice here, not only _did_ he want to see exactly what Iseul would say to convince him, but he’d be the first influential foreigner to enter the country in years. The knowledge he would gain, even a little, might be useful to the UN should he ever need it.

There _was_ one thing that had to be cleared thought. “I see,” the Commander said. “When would you prefer I visit?”

 _“As soon as possible,”_ Iseul stated. _“I believe that will be better for all of us. I would also suggest you come alone. Your advisors will not be needed.”_

The Commander gave him a humorless smile. “An interesting restriction. How do I know you won’t attempt to capture me or worse? Going alone into North Korea is generally not wise.”

Iseul shook his head, almost in exasperation. _“And bring down not only XCOM, but the rest of the world in retaliation? No, Commander, you will have my assurance and protection within my country. I honor my promises, and you will be free to leave whenever you choose, regardless of our discussion.”_

The Commander was inclined to believe him at the moment. Trying to kill or capture him would be a monumentally stupid plan, and would ensure that North Korea was destroyed. Besides, if he knew anything about dictators, it’s that they wouldn’t do something that threatened their power this much. Perhaps if XCOM was smaller, but too many world leaders knew about him to avoid repercussions should anything happen to him.

“Very well,” the Commander finally said. “I’ll come discuss the possibility of an alliance. Though I’ll warn you that it will be… _difficult_ …to convince me of the necessity.”

For the first time, Iseul’s lips stretched into a smile. _“I look forward to convincing you, Commander. Until we meet.”_

The video shut off and the Commander stood in place for a few seconds as he processed what had happened. It now occurred to him that whenever he’d reflected on his plan for defending Earth, he’d rarely ever taken North Korea into account. He’d noted its existence, of course, but actually _working_ with them was something he’d never thought about, let alone _them_ coming to him in the first place.

This move might seem like desperation to some, a last ditch move to preserve a country before it was lost in the inevitable attack, but the Commander had not gotten that impression from Iseul at _all_. He had no doubt that North Korea would benefit from an alliance with them, but it was going to take a _lot_ for Iseul to convince him that it was worth supporting his authoritarian regime.

Very little was actually known about the Supreme Leader, but he’d been remarkably restrained during his rule, and wasn’t seen as unintelligent. Dangerous, yes, but dangerous _and_ smart, which was a worrying combination for many in the world, and especially South Korea.

So following the assumption that he was dealing with a supposedly rational person, at least as rational as a dictator could be, it seemed that Iseul genuinely seemed to believe he could convince him to not only support, or at least work with, a totalitarian regime, but also risk the political fallout that would inevitably follow.

The door hissed open behind him and Van Doorn, Zhang and Bradford walked in. “What did he want?” Bradford demanded.

“To ‘discuss the possibility of an alliance against the aliens,’” The Commander quoted. “Admittedly, not what I expected.”

“This is unprecedented,” Van Doorn said slowly. “It doesn’t make sense. Unless North Korea is _really_ scared about the aliens.”

“I didn’t get that impression from Iseul,” the Commander noted. “It sounded like a genuine offer. Zhang, do you know much about him?”

“No,” Zhang stated firmly, shaking his head for emphasis. “I have not been conducting operations is North Korea, and the Triad never conducted any business either. Too restrictive.”

“Gwan is dangerous and manipulative,” Van Doorn warned. “I assume he invited you to visit?”

“He did,” the Commander confirmed. “But alone.”

Van Doorn frowned. “I assume you’ve wondered if it’s a trap.”

“Unlikely,” the Commander said. “He’d be signing his death warrant if he tried anything. No, I think he only wants to talk. Though I’ll be prepared if he _does_ try something.”

“I’m _very_ curious what he could possibly offer,” Bradford muttered. “We shouldn’t work with dictatorships like them.”

“On principle, yes,” the Commander nodded. “But I do want to hear what he has to say, and depending on how much he wants this alliance…we might be able to impose some rules on him.”

“I’ll schedule the meeting as soon as possible,” Bradford promised, looking down at his tablet. “Regardless of how this goes, it should be interesting.”

The Commander smirked. “That it will be for sure.”

***

_North Korea, Pyongyang_

The Commander unstrapped and stood the moment the skyranger landed. Time to see what was in store for him. The ramp hissed open and lowered with a slight squeal. The Commander blinked as his eyes adjusted to the fading sunlight, then stepped out onto the airstrip. The first thing that stood out to him was that it wasn’t empty.

It was smaller than a United States air base, but there was no question this was being heavily used. Planes, fighters and jets were parked, and soldiers and engineers were going about their duties with a mechanical speed and efficiency. Most were seemingly ignoring him altogether, except for the small detachment standing outside waiting for him.

Four rows, four soldiers in each, stood as still as statues as he walked up. These seemed to be regular soldiers, wearing the standard green and gray camo uniforms. But what _was_ different were the trio of soldiers standing in front of the block of soldiers.

The leading one wore the armor he’d seem from the recent video, with the ornate red helmet, armor, and shoulder cape. Upon closer inspection it was clear that some inspiration had been drawn from XCOM gear, just based on how it was put together. That soldier was flanked by two more, and these soldiers appeared to be wearing the same kind of armor, expect it was all black. The helmet was also much less grandiose, resembling something closer to a pilot’s helm than anything else. The North Korean emblem was emblazoned on their shoulder pads, and what he presumed was their rank on their upper left chest.

Once he walked closer the red armor-clad soldier raised a hand, and he obliged by stopping. “You are the Commander of XCOM, correct?”

The Commander looked into the soldier’s darkened visor. “Correct. I presume you are here to take me to Supreme Leader Gwan?”

She gave a curt nod. “That is correct. I am to escort you to your ride into our capital.” She swung her head to the right, likely speaking to the black armor-clad soldiers flanking her. “다시 단계!”

The two soldiers immediately stepped back in unison, which the Commander took as an invitation to step forward. She looked at the soldiers behind her and shouted again. “행진! 내 리드를 따라 !”

The Commander went to her side as they began marching across the air base. The soldiers all walked in step, but fortunately didn’t feel the need to perform that overly exaggerated leg-swinging march that North Korea often displayed in their parades. They walked at a brisk pace, though he had no trouble keeping up.

“I have been instructed to answer any questions you might have before your visit with the Supreme Leader,” she said while they marched. “Information on military movements or directives will not be shared.”

The Commander nodded. Fair enough. “I’m as familiar as I can be with your military, but I have not seen soldiers like you before. I assume this was a recent development?”

“The Supreme Leader can better answer your question,” she stated. “But yes, this division is new. We are the vanguard that will lead the charge against the aliens and protect our country.”

Commendable. Provided that was _actually_ the plan. He had no doubt that these soldiers fully believed they were doing what was best for their country, but he also wondered if, in the interest of ensuring the future of North Korea, they might decide to end the shadow war with the South once and for all. He’d dismissed those concerns long ago, assuming that North Korea would never want to antagonize China, or the world at large.

Yet somehow North Korea seemed to be much more advanced that he, and probably everyone else, anticipated. Seeing the armor up close, and getting a closer look at some of the equipment and planes that they were passing, he had an idea of what had actually happened. Which was concerning.

He saw a limo up ahead, and it seemed like that was going to be his ride. Thanks to his enhanced eyesight, he could see the main city just beyond, and from here it admittedly looked as impressive as quite a few American cities he’d visited. But looks could be deceiving and he was certain that they would avoid driving through any parts that showed nothing less than happy, loyal, North Korean citizens.

Though he wondered if Iseul would bother. Both of them used propaganda and knew its effect. Because of that, both of them could see through it much easier. It would be interesting to see how he portrayed the city. “Where will I be taken?” He asked.

“To the Government building,” she answered automatically. “In the interest of time, we will avoid taking the scenic route, so to speak, unless of course you wish too.”

The Commander gave her a wry smile. “Oh, I’m sure I’d be very impressed. But I don’t have time for your propaganda. Business takes precedence.”

To her credit, the woman didn’t acknowledge his jab. “As you wish.”

Once they reached the limo, one of the black-armored soldiers opened the door and he stepped inside. A few seconds later the female officer also stepped in and sat opposite him. The door was shut behind her and they both appraised each other as the limo started driving. “You are quiet,” she noted. ‘I would have expected more questions.”

“Trust me, I have many,” the Commander assured her. “But the ones I have you wouldn’t be able to answer, or you’d give a carefully crafted response. I’m aware of how your country operates.”

“Propaganda is not exclusive to us, Commander,” she noted without malice. “You are not here for that and the Supreme Leader believes it would be pointless for you anyway. You will see for yourself soon enough that we are not the oppressive nation the world paints us as.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? Then I do have a question for you, is the civilian population even aware of the extent of the alien invasion? How much do they really know is happening in the world?”

There was a pause. “They are appraised of the alien incursion,” she finally answered. “Though the scope and danger is unknown to most. They trust us to be able to defend them, and have faith in the Supreme Leader to lead us through this issue.”

The Commander sighed. “Lying is only a short-term solution.”

“The suppression of information is a necessity,” she stated. “We cannot have mass panic in the streets. We saw the results of unchecked information with Germany, you did as well. Our civilians are only told what they were needed, and as a result of it, are more productive in the event that ‘the situation gets worse.’”

The Commander pursed his lips. “The situation in Germany was a _result_ of government suppression, not because of the aliens.”

“Because they failed,” she said. “Had they kept the populace calm, we might have a different Germany today.”

“Keeping people ignorant is a mistake,” the Commander said. “One I’m afraid your country will find out one day.”

“That is unlikely,” she said, lacing her gauntleted fingers together. “But the Supreme Leader would be able to explain these truths better than I.”

They were both silent for a few moments. “What is your name?” The Commander finally asked.

“Iida Keyoko,” she answered, inclining her head. “I would ask yours, but from what I know, you don’t have one.”

The Commander’s lips curled up at that. “I do have one, but very few know it. It’s unimportant, my title is all that matters now.”

“A fair point, Commander,” Iida answered. “Now that we are close, I must tell you that we are not going to the Government building. That was for the benefit of my soldiers. You are being taken to the military installation spearheading the defense of our country against the aliens.”

 The Commander wasn’t exactly sure he should be surprised at that or not, or even if it was a bad thing. It implied that Iseul had quite a bit to show off, which again reinforced his suspicion about where these advanced North Korean soldiers were coming from. If nothing else, it was more interesting than a standard meeting room where he’d met so many world leaders before.

***

_North Korea, Undisclosed Location_

They finally arrived and once both of them exited the limo, found themselves in an enclosed garage-like area, empty, except for guards at each exit, all of whom wore the black armor. They saluted as Iida approached, which she acknowledged with a nod as they walked through the door. The hallways were gray, bare, and sterile, and they didn’t encounter any more soldiers as they moved through the maze.

Left, right, right and left, the Commander was trying to keep up with all the turns, but soon after became convinced that Iida was purposefully leading him in circles to disorient him from memorizing the path, much like how Israel had done when he’d visited Tel Aviv. They finally arrived in front of a glass door which slid open.

“Step inside,” Iida ordered, extending her hand to the entrance. The Commander obliged, not having much of a choice, and she joined him and punched in a code on the other side. An elevator, that’s what this was. After she finished, they started rising and within half a minute, slowed to a stop and the door opened to reveal a well-lit room with ceramic tile and North Korean paraphernalia lining the walls.

Flags, posters and statues were all present, arranged in such a way as to be as impressive as possible. Quite honestly, he was impressed, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen from America or Russia. North Korea had always utilized props and symbols masterfully into their propaganda, and even if he knew the effect it had, it was an art he could understand and respect.

They both stepped out and began walking, their boots clacking on the tile. The Commander noted with some curiosity that there were no portraits of previous leaders or figures. He’d have expected something, especially from the Supreme Leader, but saw nothing on the walls aside from flags and posters.

When the previous Supreme Leader had died almost thirty years ago, the Commander _had_ read some speculations from various figures about the cause of death, the leading theories revolving around assassination. It was difficult to know for certain, since North Korean internal disputes were extraordinary hard to confirm, but the Gwan’s father hadn’t been in poor health and only seventy.

Of course, North Korea propaganda could have hidden any ills from the western world and it would be hard to know one way or another. But given that Gwan’s brother, who would have been first in the line of succession, had been found guilty of treason and executed a few years before made it plausible to think that maybe, Iseul Gwan had caused the apparent abrupt death of the Supreme Leader as a masterful power play.

The Commander wouldn’t have been surprised one way or another. No one knew the facts here, but given how North Korean leaders had been ruthless and cutthroat in the past, he had no reason to think that anything had changed in that regard. Regicide and patricide would likely not be seen as an issue when the prize was control over one of the most secretive countries in the world.

The room suddenly opened up into a wider rectangle, where the far wall was nothing but a floor-to-ceiling window. A large oak table was in the middle of the room, and on both sides were two screens displaying maps and rapidly scrolling information that the Commander wasn’t able to catch, not that it would have mattered since he didn’t know Korean.

In the middle of the room, in front of the window was Supreme Leader Iseul Gwan, overlooking whatever was outside with his hands clasped behind his back and wearing the same uniform he had in his initial greeting.

Iida raised her hand into a salute. “우박, 최고 지도자!” She shouted, her voice amplified in the silent room.

“마음 편하게, 사령관 이이다,” he answered in a neutral tone, not looking back at her. “작업로 돌아 기각.”

Without a word of farewell, Iida turned on her heel and walked back to the elevator. The Commander took that as a sign to walk forward and did until he reached the window. What awaited him was both expected, and not at the same time. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” Iseul commented as they looked over the working area.

A large UFO was below them, almost half-disassembled. The alloy plating that normally covered it had been stripped off, but the shell containing the computers, power sources and additional components were still being taken out, very slowly and carefully if the amount of workers and sealed environment suits was anything to go by.

“You took a UFO,” the Commander congratulated. “Impressive. Even more so that I had no idea.”

“You had no idea because I decided not to tell you,” Iseul stated without looking over at him, though the Commander detected trace amounts of humor in his voice. “I could have, of course. The _gracious_ United Nations provided each world government with a way to contact their anti-alien division in the event of an attack. Even us. But I knew they would hoard what they gained from themselves when it rightfully belongs to us.”

He looked over at the Commander, his eyes hard. “I sent my soldiers to storm the craft. Many died. But we won, and in the process, gained the keys to ultimate victory. But you already know this.”

“Your new soldiers,” the Commander remembered. “If I may guess, a derivative of analyzing the alien alloys?”

“Correct,” Iseul nodded. “It provides far greater protection than perhaps any military gear in the world, XCOM excluded of course. Yet armoring an army like you do yours is impractical, so some sacrifices had to be made.”

“Your limited supply,” the Commander supposed. “You don’t have enough for your army.”

“My entire army?” Iseul looked him in the eye. “No. But we’ve meticulously planned out the best use of our limited supply, and by mixing alien alloys with metal on Earth, we are able to equip most of it. It will not provide the level of protection your soldiers enjoy, but it will allow us to wage an effective ground war with the aliens when the time comes.”

“And have you tested it?” The Commander asked. “The plasma weapons the aliens use are far more powerful than human ballistics.”

“Not with plasma, no,” Iseul admitted. “But we’ve done what we can. Jet cannons, rockets, AA guns. What we’ve developed will hold at least once to most of those, barring shrapnel from the rockets into unprotected parts. We lack your weapons to test, but I am confident in my scientists and engineers.”

“How long has this been going on?” The Commander asked, using his enhanced vision to look closer at the workers who were disassembling an alien computer.

“Nearly four months,” Iseul answered. “The very best and brightest working nonstop all hours of the day, knowing our days were numbers,” he pursed his lips. “I’ve also been following XCOM, Commander, as best I can. My initial assumptions about your organization, and you, were wrong. You are not a fool, you know these aliens will soon truly invade and wipe out or enslave us.”

The Commander looked at him grimly. “Yes, I realized that some time ago. Unfortunately, there is little I can do except prepare for the possibility.”

“As do I,” Iseul agreed, looking over the UFO. “I have not ignored your growing number of countries working directly with you either. Israel, Germany, Ukraine, Armenia, Turkey and more. No one else has either, and your rapid expansion, regardless of its use, will soon be seen as a threat if it isn’t already.”

“An unnecessary worry,” the Commander shook his head. “This is not even a proper alliance, and especially not a coalition. It’s an agreement. They provide us the means to defend Earth and we provide means for them to protect their countries.”

“You may view it that way, but other do not,” Iseul said. “Your influence has grown, like it or not. Some view it as a threat, but for others, XCOM represents the last hope before the world falls.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt ‘hope’ had anything to do with it. Practicality and necessity are the driving forces of these alliances. Not concepts like _hope_.”

“On some level, that is true,” Iseul conceded. “But you and I both know most humans are not like us, they are driven by emotion, not reason. Do you honestly not see _why_ so many countries are willing to risk sanctions or worse by the UN, opposition from their own government, or will of the people to work with XCOM?”

“Because XCOM is the best chance for survival,” the Commander said, pursing his lips as he saw where the Supreme Leader was going with this.

“Or, in a word, _hope_ ,” Iseul amended, with a small smile. “The rest of the world is beginning to see the United Nations for what it is: inept, corrupt, and broken. They saw what happened in Germany, in China, and it was not a nebulous collection of politicians that saved the day, it was not NATO, not diplomacy or any other useless ideal or power of the United Nations. It was _XCOM_.”

He…didn’t completely disagree, though he felt some correction was needed. “You do know XCOM _is_ technically part of the United Nations?”

“It was the reason I took matters into my own hands initially,” Iseul nodded. “But regardless of the technicality of it, I don’t believe that XCOM is part of the United Nations any more than I believe Mexico is part of the United States simply because they share the same continent. It might have started that way originally, but times have changed. The United Nations, nor XCOM have acknowledged an official relationship,” Iseul gave a small smile. “And besides, do you _honestly_ consider yourself part of them anymore?”

The Commander gave him a wry smile; the man was clever. “No, I do not.”

“As expected,” Iseul said with a nod. “But my point is that the nations are rallying around the only force in the world that is openly _doing_ something. The only force that seems to have a _chance_. The United Nations will fall, and I think you’ve figured this out as well. Why else begin to secure as much additional funding as possible if not to prepare for that eventuality?”

The Commander maintained a neutral expression. “Several factors beyond that.”

“Ah, yes,” Iseul agreed knowingly. “I’d imagine working for the very people who betrayed you would be a sufficient motive to break away from them, if not instigate their fall yourself.”

The Commander’s head snapped over to him and Iseul raised a hand preemptively. “Yes, I know who you are, _Commander_. I was surprised to learn you were alive, but I will attribute that as one of the only things the United Nations have ever done right.”

“How did you know?” The Commander demanded.

“Unimportant,” Iseul shrugged. “But simply because I’ve kept my country isolated does not mean I’ve been idle. And you have nothing to fear from me using this information, it would serve no purpose other than to divide an already tense humanity. I have no desire to start a war now, especially not with XCOM.”

“Uncommonly reasonable,” the Commander commented slowly. “So tell me, what do you want? Knowledge? More resources? Why show me all of this?”

“To prove to you that I have no other agenda than the defense of humanity and my country,” Iseul stated. “And you know an army will be needed to win the coming invasion. XCOM is proficient, but it will not be enough to stop legions of aliens that will arrive to overrun us.”

The Commander snorted. “Would that I could actually believe that,” he looked at Iseul skeptically. “Everyone has their own agenda, and most are prone to lie about it to get what they want. You may want to ‘defend humanity,’ as you put it, but don’t pretend that’s your _only_ goal. Do you even understand why I am hesitant to even _consider_ working with your country?”

“Perhaps I misspoke,” Iseul corrected. “My _primary_ agenda is the defense of humanity and my country, as is yours I imagine, but don’t act like your secondary agendas are nobler than mine. And yes, believe it or not, I’m well aware of the propaganda that is used against us.”

“I know what propaganda is,” the Commander stated, his voice lowering. “Yet based on everything I know, propaganda about North Korea is rarely wrong. You are a dictator, to put it bluntly. You suppress information and jail or kill those who question you. Your military holds an iron grip over the country, its people poor and kept reliant on _you_. Tell me, _Supreme Leader_ , what of what I just said is _incorrect_.”

Iseul inexplicably smiled. “Very little,” he admitted. “But we both have distasteful titles attached to us, _Commander_. You are a war criminal who hung children on crosses. You assassinated heads of state at your own discretion. You killed civilians with no remorse or concern, even those just caught in the crossfire. You tortured, disfigured and executed any who refused to conform to your view of the world. You desecrated the graves of men and women who did nothing wrong except follow a certain religion. You wiped out every symbol, village and city important to Islam and accomplished something not seen since the Romans. You killed a religion, made its people persecuted and forced them into hiding. Yet I doubt Islam will survive like Christianity, and it will be because of _you_.”

Iseul cocked his head at him. “Context is important, Commander. I doubt you view yourself in _quite_ that light. But just as you had your reasons, your _justifications_ , I have _mine_.”

“The War on Terror was necessary,” the Commander stated, preparing for yet another debate on the subject. “Islam deserved to be reduced to nothing, its fanatics deserved to be put down like rabid dogs because they _were_. There was only one method that the Caliphate would understand, and that was _terror_ and if _terror_ was what was required to win, than I would, by whatever means necessary.”

The Commander paused. “Do I wish I hadn’t been needed? Yes. But do I regret it? No. No, I do not. I accepted that the world would condemn me, but I do not regret it for even a day.”

“No need to convince me, Commander,” Iseul interrupted, holding up a hand. “I agree with you. While harsh, your methods were acceptable, and that is why you are the first person I’m willing to work with, because your understand _necessity.”_

He waved his hand over the area. “You called me a dictator. That is not incorrect, but unlike you and most of the world, I do not view that as a thing to be _feared_ or _rejected_. Under my leadership North Korea is one of the most prosperous nations in the world.”

“Surprising how I’ve never heard of _that_.” The Commander muttered.

“You really think your media would report that even if they knew?” Iseul demanded, managing some incredulity before continuing. “But that is ultimately unimportant. The reason for that is because _I_ had a vision for my country. A vision that was threatened by squabbling, infighting, politics. Adults shouting at each other and holding the people hostage in order to achieve political points. We were not _unified_ , we were divided and there were several factions within this very government four decades ago.”

Iseul pursed his lips. “The people feared the military and government for very good reason, it wasn’t uncommon for a military general to send a detachment to a section of Pyongyang and arrest and execute a few “criminals.” Of course, this wasn’t to crack down on crime, but to strike at a rival. To lower his production or profits.”

“Let me guess,” the Commander said. “You planned to take over and remove that?”

“A good guess,” Iseul agreed. “As the second son of the Supreme Leader, I fortunately had resources and advantages that made it possible. The culling soon began when I came of age, and the troublesome elements of the lower ranks in the government were arrested or executed. I kept advancing, moving up. But as I rose, the corruption only became more evident.” His face wrinkled in disgust.

“My father reveled in the power this position offers, he cared nothing for the people, only himself. He held lavish feasts while people starved in the cities and field. He had no qualms of executing servants for bringing a meal cold. He ruled through _fear_. My brother was no better, he had no vision, no direction. He would have been a puppet to my father’s advisors and friends who openly tolerated the skirmishing officers below them, as long as it didn’t affect their lifestyle.”

His tone turned cold and the Commander noted his right hand clenched into a fist. “It should come as no surprise that I purged the leadership when I took the mantle of Supreme Leader. I don’t simply execute _dissidents_ , Commander. I don’t jail those who simply _question_ me. I only do that to those who pose a _threat_ to my country. I will not apologize for that.”

In that context, it _did_ sound justified, and even something he would have supported. But there was one major issue he had with a simple dismissal of that criticism. “You were justified in the past, I’ll grant you that,” the Commander admitted. “But times have changed. Those people are gone. But there are recorded instances of you jailing journalists and in rare cases, executing them.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Iseul demanded turning to face him. “Let them stir up the people into rioting? Lie to them about me? I know in a _democracy_ that you value free speech more than life itself, but I take slander _very_ seriously because I realized something decades ago.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “Which is?”

“That people do not know what is best for them,” Iseul answered, his voice lowering as he continued. “They are not like you or me. They are swayed not by logic, reason and _necessity_ , but by _emotion_ , by _lies_. _Hope_. They want to be _good_ , they want to be _happy_ when the reality is that life is not black and white, and good and evil are relative.”

He looked the Commander in the eyes unflinchingly. “You’ve witnessed this truth many times. How quick were you demonized after your first strike against the Caliphate? How long did it take before people spoke your name in fear when they didn’t need to? Instead of being treated as a hero, you were betrayed and your soldiers and allies tried and executed while they kept you because they _knew_ one day you would be needed, not as a _hero_ , no, but as a _scapegoat_ who would perform what was _needed_ while keeping _their_ hands clean.”

It was, admittedly, a good speech. Very good, and he was uncomfortable by how much he actually followed, and even agreed with. But there was still one very clear difference that he could see between them. “I agree,” the Commander shrugged. “In my experience, especially when it comes to war, civilians don’t know the reality of it, and won’t accept what is needed even if their lives will be saved by it.”

He paused. “However, the difference between us is that I don’t believe I’m completely in the right. My methods _are_ extreme and unethical, I’ve never disputed that. Justified, yes, but I don’t force my opinion on the civilian population. I fixed a problem no one else would, you simply force your will on a people who know nothing else. You take advantage of their ignorance because _maybe_ you fear they wouldn’t like you as much should they know their life could be more than the menial jobs they work every day.”

“My people are _satisfied_ with their life,” Iseul hissed. “Unlike your governments I actually provide for each and every one of my people. They work for something much _greater_ than themselves. They don’t _need_ to be happy, they don’t _need_ to dream of a ‘ _better life_.’ They just need to be _satisfied_. They are _content_. Every man, woman and child knows that they are one part in this country and there are few honors greater than that.”

He turned around and marched towards the table. “We are a united country. America, England, Canada, the people only care about themselves. The so-called “American Dream” is based on greed and selfishness. Yes, they have the _freedom_ to try and achieve their unachievable dreams, and admittedly a few of them do.”

He sniffed. “But the majority? They then recognize another truth. Freedom is a lie. They are only a free as the system allows them to be, and only when they lose everything does the reality that their country doesn’t care about them come crashing down. They are abandoned by your governments, and instead they focus on people who can further their interests.”

He turned back towards the Commander. “You say I lie to my people. I lie by omission only, debate the ethics of that if you wish, but I don’t offer my citizens false hope. Your democracies are based on _lies_. Your politicians will say _anything_ to reach the coveted offices of power and once reached, either forget or refuse to implement what they promise. Yet you think that _I_ am somehow as bad as all these nations imply because North Korea is _not_ a precious _democracy_!”

“If given the choice between the freedom to choose or a competent dictator, I’ll take a democracy every time,” the Commander stated firmly.

Iseul raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that? You would leave the fate of a country to chance just to preserve your _freedom_?”

“Were democracy a complete failure the United States, Europe, Canada, none of those would be as strong as they are,” the Commander defended. “But the thing is that even if the people elect someone who ultimately is terrible, they are only there for a few years at most, then the people learn and fix their mistakes. A dictator is set for life, good or bad.”

“And which do you think is more effective?” Iseul demanded. “How can you entrust important positions to the judgement of people who even _you_ agree don’t know what’s best for them.”

“Because, Supreme Leader, I _don’t_ know everything,” the Commander responded evenly. “Believing I’m always right is dangerous, even if it’s hard to dispute sometimes. Regardless of their qualifications, I think people are entitled to express their opinions, right or wrong.”

“Right,” Iseul mused. “You can dispute it all you want, Commander, but the truth is that both of us are driven by something more than _necessity_. That will take you far, but there is one extra thing needed to achieve what both of us have.”

He raised a finger, his lips twitching as he seemed to suppress a smile. “Consider the story of a younger man in the CIA, a brilliant operative, one who can do missions and perform feats others are not only unable to, but _unwilling_ to. Now a new threat is emerging, one that is expanding rapidly and uses tactics so brutal the world is shocked. Right now everyone is hoping it will go away, but the United States would rather get a handle on it early.”

Iseul began pacing. “So this man is given whatever he needs to stop them, complete autonomy. So he watches, learns and see what will be needed to defeat this enemy. He knows what he must do and so begins a campaign every bit as brutal as the terrorists he’s fighting against. In time his own government orders him to stop, yet he breaks away and convinces his soldiers to continue the fight because it was not finished.”

He pointed a finger at the Commander. “The Children of Allah, the Battle of Syria, the Desecration of Muhammad, the Destruction of Mecca. You did all these things, not simply because they were necessary, no,” he paused. “You had the resolve to carry them because you knew you were _right_. The world was too weak to do what was needed and so you appointed yourself judge, jury and executioner not for a selfish or simple reason such as _power_. But because no one else would. Because no one else _could_.”

Iseul let that sink in for a few seconds. “You may dislike it all you want, Commander, but we are more similar than you want to admit. We both saw a problem and what was needed to fix it. We both succeeded and the world hates us for it, and we are at a crossroads again, and like last time, you will be the determining factor who will ensure our victory or defeat.”

He stepped back and there was silence for a few minutes. “You give a good speech,” the Commander said, inclining his head. “And…while I still do not support your current leadership of the country, I can see why you feel that way.”

“Progress, I suppose,” Iseul conceded. “Yet this does not answer the question I proposed to you at the very beginning.”

The Commander hesitated. Earlier, he would never have believed he’d say this, but he saw an opportunity here to actually enact some real change. If Iseul was as genuine as he appeared right now, he stood a chance. “I am open to discussing an alliance between XCOM and North Korea,” he said, quickly raising a hand. “But there will have to be a compromise between us. I need to know if that is something _you_ would be open to.”

“That depends on how extensive this compromise is,” Iseul said with a frown.

“You say your people are content and treated well,” the Commander remembered. “I want that confirmed. Not by you, but someone I trust.”

Iseul grimaced. “Who?”

“Are you aware of Peter Van Doorn?” The Commander asked.

“Yes,” Iseul confirmed. “I see he _is_ working for you. Interesting.”

“He would be allowed unrestricted access,” the Commander continued. “ _Everywhere_ non-military. Not just where you allow him to go. If your people are as truly as well off as you claim, then you should have nothing to worry about.”

“And would that be it?” Iseul demanded. “One investigation that will take up valuable time?”

“If you want this alliance, which may very well not happen, absolutely,” the Commander stated. “You are risking nothing here, whereas XCOM is likely going to be condemned by the international community at large. And that will be the absolute _minimum_. I’ll have to discuss this with my Council more, but there may be more requests. I am glad you’re open to them, though.”

“Within reason,” Iseul amended firmly. “Do not ask use to become a democracy.”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “Not yet. But you will have to involve showing the world that you aren’t the evil they claim you are. And that will require proof.”

“We shall see,” Iseul muttered, clearly focusing on the words ‘ _not yet’_. “But you were raised in a western country, so your concern is understandable.”

This _might_ actually work. “Then I am satisfied with that,” the Commander nodded. “You will receive an answer from us, one way or another.”

He extended a hand which Iseul took in a firm grip. “That is good to hear, Commander. I hope to work with you shortly and defend our planet openly.”

The Commander inclined his head in thanks and then stepped away and began walking back towards the elevator. That had _not_ gone as he’d expected, but he wasn’t quite sure it was a bad thing. It was uncomfortable just how good a speaker Iseul was, and he was definitely a dangerous man, but also seemed to be…genuine, for lack of a better word.

The Commander couldn’t read minds like Patricia, but he could read people, and Iseul really did seem to believe he was doing the right thing for his citizens. It was bizarre, but…that’s what it seemed to be, and as much as he disliked it, things did change with that revelation. Because it told him that Iseul could be reasoned with, and should the cards be played right, he might be able to do what no one else had been able to, change North Korea.

Maybe. Regardless of how his meeting with the Internal Council went, he was going to have to take _very_ great care when dealing with them in the future.


	27. Aegis

 

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“I didn’t exactly expect to actually be discussing this,” Van Doorn commented, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re actually debating whether or not to form an alliance with _North Korea_.”

“Strange times,” Bradford agreed, eyeing the Commander cautiously. “And just how certain are you that he wasn’t lying or just saying what you wanted to hear.”

“Oh, he was most certainly trying to appeal to me,” the Commander agreed instantly, though was sure to keep his tone measured. “But…despite that, I don’t think he was lying to me. It honestly seemed like he believed he was doing the right thing.”

“A dictator who isn’t driven by power,” Vahlen noted, frowning. “I’m skeptical.”

“He _has_ power,” Zhang pointed out. “He’s had power for decades. If the ambition for more was what was driving him, why has North Korea been silent for so long?”

“Tell that to South Korea,” Shen said with a pointed look at the Commander. “You forget that there may be other reasons to refrain from expansion besides being content with what he has. Not every dictator is an idiot.”

“On that we’re unanimous,” Van Doorn agreed, looking towards the Commander. “ _Did_ the Supreme Leader discuss his southern neighbor?”

“No,” the Commander said, pursing his lips. “That topic never came up.”

“That would have to be a requirement if we reach any sort of agreement,” Bradford said firmly. “An end to hostilities against South Korea.”

The Commander hesitated. “For that to even be considered, South Korea would have to agree to the same thing.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Vahlen asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Because North Korea isn’t the only country to use propaganda against its own citizens,” Zhang stated bluntly. “The citizens of South Korea have been conditioned to hate the North for decades. How do you think they’ll react if they agree to a peace treaty with their sworn enemy?”

“Justified or not, Zhang has a point,” Van Doorn muttered. “As unfortunate as it is, South Korea may be the bigger issue in a cease-fire.”

“I’ll speak to both the President and Supreme Leader about the possibility,” the Commander said, resting his hands on the holotable. “I think I can at least get them to start discussions. But if North Korea is amenable to this and South Korea isn’t…that won’t be our concern anymore.”

“Except for the political fallout,” Bradford noted. “If we side with North Korea over the South that will _not_ go over well with the general public.”

“There is going to be fallout regardless,” the Commander argued to Bradford. “If _that_ particular scenario happens, we just tell the truth. XCOM facilitated peace talks between the two nations, South Korea refused to abide and it fell apart.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Zhang agreed. “If we could successfully negotiate a peace between the two countries, it would boost our international influence and image dramatically.”

“There are also going to be a few more conditions for an alliance with us,” the Commander continued. “He may say his citizens are happy, but I’d rather get proof. Van Doorn, should the Supreme Leader be amenable, I’d like you to head the investigation.”

“Smart,” Van Doorn nodded, picking up a tablet. “I assume you want one of the human rights groups to lead the investigation?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “I want it independent. Headed by you, and a team also selected by you. No outside organizations. I assume you know some people who you could trust with this.”

“Yes…” Van Doorn answered slowly, scratching his chin as he thought. “I know people who’d kill for this opportunity. But it depends on the scope of what you want. Civilian? Military? Agriculture? Everything?”

“They’d never allow a military investigation,” Zhang pointed out.

“The state of their military isn’t a concern,” the Commander agreed. “It’s never been an issue with North Korea. No, I want to keep the investigation strictly civilian. Living conditions, wages, economy, production, health. The government and military sections are unimportant.”

“Got it,” Van Doorn nodded as he made some notes on his tablet. “I have some people who could head it.”

“What about political prisoners?” Shen asked. “They shouldn’t be forgotten.”

“I agree,” Vahlen nodded towards her colleague. “That shouldn’t be tolerated if they work with us.”

“How idealistic in theory,” Zhang commented dryly. “But there’s nothing to stop him from either fabricating it or refusing altogether. Political prisoners are not exclusive to North Korea. Every country has them, most just keep it quiet.”

“But an effort should be taken,” the Commander added with a nod. “At the very least I’ll request the non-violent ones be released. I highly doubt all of them were trying to start a rebellion.”

“It feels very good to be discussing all the great changes we’ll suggest to North Korea,” Van Doorn noted slowly. “But we should be wary of pushing too much. We can’t demand the government change overnight. It will have to be slowly.”

“But is this enough to justify an alliance?” Bradford asked all of them. “That’s the question.”

“We end a shadow war between two countries, ensure the country is _actually_ as prosperous as he claims and potentially release an unknown number of prisoners,” Zhang answered, ticking the points off his fingers. “In return we receive the financial and military backing of a wealthy and advanced nation.”

“Though the problematic elements of the government still remain,” Shen noted.

“But with North Korea more open, we can push for change in the future,” the Commander pointed out. “Should the Supreme Leader be as… _reasonable_ …as I think, he might be able to be convinced to adopt more diplomatic elements, along with possibly additional incentives.”

“No one can expect the country to change overnight,” Van Doorn agreed, setting his tablet down. “But this is the first time that _something_ can be done to break the status quo. Forgetting the military and financial benefits to this, I don’t think we can morally ignore this opportunity just because we don’t get everything we want.”

The Commander nodded. “Well said. Compromise for now. Whatever we can accomplish is better than nothing.”

“Provided of course the Supreme Leader agrees to this in the first place,” Vahlen added.

“I warned him we’d have conditions for an alliance,” the Commander said. “I suppose we’ll see how serious he is about wanting this.”

“In the event that he _does_ agree, we have to be prepared for significant political fallout,” Bradford warned as he looked down at his tablet. “Even if we control the narrative at the beginning, we’re probably going to be crucified by most of the general population. Even if we _do_ manage to broker a peace between the North and South, as well as shed light on the country, I’m not sure how much that will count.”

“The general public does not concern me,” the Commander dismissed. “They’ll be angry for a few days and then calm down once the facts come out. People have short attention spans.”

“Fine,” Bradford sighed. “Ignore the public. I have a feeling the Council is not going to be pleased either, and China will likely feel the same.”

“I’ll handle the Council,” the Commander assured him with a smile. “But I suppose it’ll depend on how the negotiations go. I think even the Council would be hard-pressed to condemn XCOM and me if we manage to broker peace.”

“They might,” Zhang muttered. “But only because we’ve done what they could not.”

There was a round of sarcastic chuckles at that. “We all know the pros and cons of this,” the Commander said, looking around at them. “Time to make a decision. All in favor.”

All of them raised a hand, though Shen, Vahlen and Bradford did so somewhat hesitantly. But it was good enough. “It’s settled then,” the Commander nodded. “I’ll contact Iseul and see how open he actually is.”

“Let’s hope it goes well,” Van Doorn said, finally breaking into a smile. “Because if so, this could be a major turning point in history.”

“Though if it’s good or bad remains to be seen,” Bradford added quietly.

“That will depend on us,” the Commander stated. “And if they decide to renege on anything we agree on, we will make sure it will not be tolerated. Dismissed.”

Everyone saluted and walked out of the office, returning to their hectic duties.

***

_The Citadel, Herman’s Quarters_

Well, it was probably time to update the Council. He’d admittedly been busy over the past few weeks, but it was enough for some kind of call, especially with what had been happening in Brazil. The Commander has stated that he suspected EXALT, which while Herman _was_ somewhat skeptical, considering how they’d tried to discredit XCOM a few days before, wouldn’t exactly be that unbelievable.

Though he did have to admit that the timing was a little convenient, especially since he didn’t know who in their right mind would blow the lid off this _now_? Excluding the ethics involved, this was quite possibly the worst time to do something like this, even if it _could_ be justified. Perhaps the Council would know a bit more about the situation.

Though Herman was more interested in the moment of what had been happening over the past twenty-four hours. Whatever it was, the Commander had left the Citadel for a short time and no one seemed to know why. Van Doorn wouldn’t say anything, though since he had more or less said “wait and see,” he doubted it was _all_ bad.

In the meantime, he and Lily had managed to work up some prototypes of his ideas for the turret and portable cover. She was still going over the drone concept, which he’d expected. She really was a genius at this, though it was definitely not what he’d had in mind initially. But he certainly wasn’t complaining.

Although, it was going to make the coming talk somewhat…awkward. He suspected that, no matter who he spoke to, the Council would probably not be very pleased with him taking a more active role in XCOM. Ennor would no doubt consider it breaking his neutrality, but quite honestly, Herman didn’t really care about that anymore.

In fact, he’d learned a lot more just working in the Engineering Bay and observing than the carefully planned inspections that were relied upon. Such as Shen having a separate lab in the back devoted exclusively for MEC experimentation and cybernetics. Interesting how no one had shown it to him in the initial tour.

He’d taken a closer look, of course, but hadn’t really found anything beyond a workshop devoted to the cybernetic aspect of XCOM. Though if the prototypes he’d seen in there were any indication, Shen and the Commander literally had big plans for the MECs. Lily was also surprisingly informative as well, though she didn’t say much beyond what he already knew. She was surprisingly comfortable talking around him, which might have been due to having no one else to talk too. If nothing else, it made things easier when actually talking to the elder Shen.

Herman shook his head. Right. Enough reminiscing, time to get this done. He had the feeling that Tamara might keep what he said to herself, so in the interest of transparency, had reluctantly decided to inform Ennor of the recent developments. He opened up his laptop and began making the call.

Finally, after waiting a few minutes, Ennor’s face appeared. _“Herman,”_ he greeted. _“Long time, no see.”_

Hopefully the rest of the discussion would be this cordial. “Same to you, Councilor. I figured it was time for an update.”

 _“Considering recent events, I’d tend to agree,”_ Ennor nodded, blinking several times and he continued. _“I’m also glad you choose to speak with me about it. Keeping questionable acts secret serves no one.”_

“In this case, I agree,” Herman said, sighing. “But only because I want no part in whatever discussion follows afterward. I did my part and kept you informed, end of story.”

 _“Is there an issue?”_ Ennor asked, frowning.

“I don’t believe so,” Herman answered. “I’ve been working with XCOM to develop some experiment warfare concepts. To diversify their arsenal, so to speak.”

To his credit, the strongest reaction from Ennor was several blinks. _“You’re working with XCOM? Directly?”_

“If you mean I’m using XCOM resources to develop equipment for them, then yes,” Herman confirmed. “Provided the Commander approves, some of my concepts might be incorporated into the XCOM armory proper.”

Ennor sat back. _“You’re helping the Commander.”_ He said in disbelief.

Herman resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but continued on. “Of course I am. I noted some issues with the way he was conducting the war and proposed some solutions. He agreed and let me work.”

 _“You’re supposed to be watching the Commander,”_ Ennor almost growled. _“Not enabling him.”_

“Forgive me for not wanting more soldiers to die when they could be prevented,” Herman snapped back. “And no. I’m here to _observe_ , and watch for violations, but I still haven’t found any. But nowhere was it said that I _couldn’t_ help XCOM, and even if there was, that is one time I’d break the rules.”

 _“Are there really none?”_ Ennor demanded. _“Or are you just not wanting to see it? You honestly believe the Commander is conducting this war within the rules?”_

Herman crossed his arms. “Quite honestly? No, I don’t. But I really can’t do anything about that without proof. You may be willing to remove someone on gut feeling alone, but I am not. Until I find irrefutable proof one way or another, I’m going to keep working with the Commander and XCOM.”

 _“You really think you’re going to find anything by sitting around passively?”_ Ennor asked, his tone growing angry as he leaning towards the screen. _“This Commander isn’t an idiot; he knows what you look for and I guarantee he’s done everything he can to hide it. You have to go digging, Herman, not just accepting what you see at face value.”_

“And what do you suggest I do?” Herman retorted, growing frustrated. “Burn every single bridge I’ve built here? Angrily demand he show me _everything_ since I _know_ he’s hiding something? How far do you think _that_ will get me?”

 _“Further than you are now,”_ Ennor muttered.

“Perhaps,” Herman answered, gritting his teeth. “But then all I’d be doing is proving to the Commander that everyone in the UN is a bunch of self-righteous firebrands.”

 _“Really,”_ Ennor drawled. _“You think I’m a firebrand? Besides, I think Van Doorn disproved that to the Commander since he’s apparently in his inner circle.”_

“Probably helped by the fact that he’s _not_ part of the UN anymore,” Herman pointed out dryly. “And from what he told me, the Council was somewhat influential in his decision to leave.”

Ennor winced at that. _“That was admittedly not the best situation.”_ His face turned harder and serious a few seconds later. _“Your appointment here has been disappointing to say the least. The fact that you cannot find one violation either speaks to your incompetence or unwillingness to do so.”_

Herman blinked in disbelief, his emotionless tone reflected that. “I’m sorry, _what_? Did you just say you _want_ me to _fabricate_ evidence to remove the Commander?”

Ennor pursed his lips. _“You shouldn’t need to fabricate anything! You should have found something by now!”_

What the hell was he saying? “No,” Herman answered, still not quite sure what to feel. “That’s not how it works. I didn’t come here to _convict_ the Commander. I came to _help_ and make sure he followed the law. He _has_. Why can’t you accept that?”

 _“Because it isn’t true,”_ Ennor repeated. _“You admitted as much! Yet you’re still fine with it!”_

“Maybe because I’m more concerned about the _actual_ threat,” Herman retorted, not bothering to hide his anger. “Because, Ennor, I’ll tell you this now. It is _not_ the Commander. It never was, but you seem to want to go to war with him regardless. The aliens. _EXALT_. _Those_ are the threats I’m worried about. Not someone who’s actually trying to _fight_ them!”

 _“He’s playing you,”_ Ennor insisted. _“Why else allow to work on your project if not to distract you from-“_

“Maybe because he’s more concerned about action than politics,” Herman snapped. “Because unlike you, he can actually work with people he doesn’t like. He can take suggestions from them. My opinion of his actions hasn’t changed, but I have a lot more respect for him than you right now.”

Ennor glared at him. _“Perhaps you’ll have to be recalled since you clearly have lost any willingness to carry out your directive.”_

At this point, Herman was almost hoping he would. “Careful with threats, Ennor. How would the Council feel if another one of their people resigned as a result of idiotic Councilors?”

Ennor stiffened. _“You’ve worked with the United Nations for years. I highly doubt you’d resign over this.”_

Oh, if he just pushed a _little_ farther. “Do you really want to try me?” Herman asked quietly.

Ennor was silent.

“Thought so,” Herman muttered and closed the laptop without ceremony. “And fuck you too, Councilor.”  

Not his most professional moment. But he didn’t really care at the moment. Ennor was now one of the most unreasonable, short-sighted and biased people he’d had the displeasure of encountering in years. No wonder Van Doorn left after dealing with people like that. If this was what it was like at the higher levels of the United Nations, he sincerely wondered how anything functioned.

Well, Ennor wasn’t going to be getting any more updates from him. Tamara may be biased towards the Commander, who contrary to what Ennor seemed to think he believed, _was_ dangerous and likely was committing crimes he didn’t know about it. Though Ennor hadn’t been entirely wrong either when he’d accused him of just accepting what he saw.

Because quite honestly…he was caring less and less about what the Commander had done. He’d been around him, spoken with him and his advisors enough to conclude that whatever the Commander was, no matter what he’d done, that he wasn’t the enemy. EXALT, the aliens, those were what everyone should be afraid of. Those were now the priority for him, especially since a failure to defeat them would likely mean the eradication or enslavement of humanity.

He wondered if Van Doorn had the right idea. He was tired to trying to straddle the line between neutrality and actually doing something, a line that had arguably been crossed by him helping XCOM. But what was the alternative? Sit back and do nothing, almost hoping for the Commander to screw up? No, he had to do more.

But what?

He didn’t want to fully _leave_ the United Nations. Ennor had been right there; contrary to what the Commander believed, the United Nations had done a lot of good and was not irredeemable. It had its problems, but it was inevitable in an organization this large. It would be wrong to leave simply because of one moronic councilor. But perhaps his position could change.

He’d essentially been trying to be a mediator here, giving his opinion from the Council and conveying some points from the Commander to them, with varying degrees of success. That should probably be what he strove toward. Not simply an observer, but a facilitator in full. A neutral party if that was possible, between the Council and XCOM.

He wished he could talk to Van Doorn about this, but unfortunately he didn’t know the Commander’s true identity. Maybe he should suggest that to the Commander, it was past time at least his inner council knew, especially since Ennor’s allies would probably begin to pressure him more after their talk.

He shook his head. He’d think about how best to handle this later, right now he needed something to take his mind off it. He opened up his laptop again and began working on another idea of his. Refining, creating and designing it for an unknown amount of time, so absorbed was he in it. The troubling thoughts in the back of his head persisted, but over time they calmed down, and surprisingly by the end, he had an idea of what to do.

It might take some time, but it was needed. But first he had to take this to Lily.  

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

Something big must have happened if Agent Kyung had actually managed to set up a way to contact her. Communication out of the tyrannical state was notoriously difficult and risky, so Saudia had only approved it when it was truly necessary. Since it took time to set up, information was usually a couple days later than she’d prefer, but it was better than nothing at all.

North Korea was frustrating to deal with in general, and one of the few countries where EXALT’s influence was close to non-existent. It was admittedly because their extreme isolation and obsession with control made any sort of infiltration borderline impossible. Even the agent that was inside wasn’t high up in the government, and that little operation has literally taken years to set up.

Now, North Korea had admittedly not been high on her list of influential or threatening countries. Since they lacked nuclear weapons, any threat they posed would be mitigated by the threat of China, Russia and America. They lacked any sort of influence outside the country itself, except perhaps South Korea.

However, something had clearly changed and she now wondered if it was a mistake to ignore the country’s isolation in favor of seemingly more important targets. She supposed that was what agent Kyung would inform her.

She pressed the button which would receive the call when it came. Fortunately all EXALT agents were punctual and she only had to wait a few minutes before his hologram appeared in front of her. He was dressed in the regular gray tan uniform of a low-ranking North Korean officer, and would seamlessly fit in to any of the Asian countries. His black hair was a bit disheveled though, which seemed a strange oversight, especially in North Korea.

 _“Director,”_ he greeted, inclining his head. _“There is news.”_

“I’d expect so,” Saudia agreed, clasping her hands behind her back. “Tell me.”

 _“Of course,”_ Kyung picked up a tablet and looked down at it. _“I assume you saw Supreme Leader Gwan’s address?”_

Saudia nodded. “I did. Do you know how much of it was sincere or is it simply propaganda?”

 _“It’s always propaganda here,”_ Kyung grimaced. _“But in this case, everything I’ve seen indicates that he’s genuinely concerned about the aliens. Those two soldiers who were flanking him? They’re from an entire division I had no idea existed until a few days ago. They were debuted at the address, which means this has been going on for a few months.”_

Saudia pursed her lips at that. She’d wondered if that was the case. She didn’t really fault Kyung for not knowing about it sooner, since any sort of deviation or unauthorized investigation carried huge risks. “Those soldiers seem different. Almost as if they tried to emulate XCOM’s armor style.”

 _“Seeing as how this division is primarily anti-alien, I think that’s not inaccurate,”_ Kyung agreed, frowning. _“But I did manage to learn that the armor this division wears is derived from alien materials. So North Korea is definitely getting them from somewhere.”_

Saudia paused. There were only three possible answers to that. Either XCOM, the aliens or they’d managed to take them from the aliens themselves. “Where did they get them?” She demanded.

 _“I haven’t been able to get confirmation,”_ Kyung warned, pursing his lips. _“But I believe the aliens landed in North Korea some time ago, and the Supreme Leader ordered an attack instead of contacting XCOM. A secured UFO would explain these sudden military advances.”_

Yes it would. And it also elevated North Korea quite a bit is regards to their threat. It would take China time to figure out what to do with the Dreadnought, but the end result would likely be something similar to North Korea, but in the meantime, as hard as it was to believe, North Korea was arguably one of the most powerful militaries in the world.

Saudia looked down as she thought. Who had access to alien tech now? XCOM had made alliances with quite a few smaller countries, but none of them, barring Israel, was large enough to pose much of a threat. China now had access to alien materials….Germany was also likely receiving some aid from XCOM was well.

But…no one else, if her agents placed throughout the world were accurate. Which meant America, England, and Russia were behind in the arms race for once. She wondered how long it would be before the Commander of XCOM decided it best to allow the major powers access to mitigate China. He was apparently American, so it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption to make.

“What is the Supreme Leader planning to _do_ with this division?” Saudia asked after a minute of thought. “Because I doubt it will simply be to fight aliens.”

Kyung visibly hesitated. _“That, Director, depends on XCOM.”_

She sighed. “Why would XCOM have any impact on what Iseul does with his new army?”

 _“Because Supreme Leader Gwan and a high-ranking official in XCOM met,”_ Kyung stated bluntly, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. _“In fact, I’m almost certain it was the Commander of XCOM himself. We might be looking at a possible North Korean-XCOM alliance.”_

 Saudia blinked in disbelief. _That_ she had not expected. “Are you certain? Do you have proof?”

 _“Aside from seeing Supreme Leader Gwan’s chief officer escorting a man exiting a skyranger and talking with people with a higher rank, no,”_ Kyung answered wearily. _“I can’t exactly take pictures without it looking suspicious. But I’m positive of this. Why else do you think I risked contacting you?”_

Assuming it was true, and right now she didn’t see a reason to doubt Kyung since he was one of the most loyal agents she had, it was a _major_ piece of information. If they had proof, Elizabeth could use this to actually cause some harm to XCOM’s image. Every human rights watchdog organization, as well as most of the UN not to mention South Korea, would crucify XCOM on the altar of public opinion.

But they _didn’t_ have proof, not yet. But she could be certain that if the Commander of XCOM _was_ planning to form some kind of alliance that he would be preparing for every possible outcome. There were nations who would withdraw support out of pure principle, so they _had_ to have some kind of plan to mitigate the fallout.

She put the potential ramifications of that thought aside in favor of a few question. “You saw this XCOM representative,” she recalled. “What did he look like?”

 _“Tall, probably six-foot-one,”_ Kyung began as he looked up aimlessly as he recalled. _“Well built, definitely a soldier. Not a body-builder though, leaner, if I had to guess, either special forces or a sharpshooting position.”_ She nodded. Kyung had an excellent memory and had a knack for reading and determining strengths and weaknesses just from looking at their physical profile.

 _“Black hair, couldn’t see eye color,”_ Kyung continued. _“I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but I’m sure I haven’t seen him before. I would estimate his age to be at least forty, maybe younger. He definitely carried himself like someone in charge, and here the only people who walk around like that are officers and the Supreme Leader himself.”_

She processed that. Unfortunately a whole host of possible faces for the Commander filled her mind, but the information Kyung had given her _might_ be enough to possibly lower the number of possible candidates for the Commander of XCOM. Elizabeth and Zara had been keeping a list and this would help narrow it further.

“Good work,” she complimented. “So what would happen if XCOM were to form an alliance?”

 _“I have no idea,”_ Kyung stated bluntly. _“This is unprecedented and I can’t imagine XCOM would agree to one without strict conditions on North Korea itself. Until those are known, I can’t make accurate predictions. But the probability of North Korea using their new military power would almost certainly be reduced.”_

“Then I suppose the question is whether the Supreme Leader would be open to conditions,” Saudia finished grimly. “How likely is that?”

 _“I’ve only met the Supreme Leader in person once,”_ Kyung answered, a grimace on his face. _“He is dangerous, Director. Very dangerous. He’s intelligent, ruthless, charismatic and reasonable. He won’t refuse options out of hand because of pride. So my guess is that if the Commander could successfully argue conditions in a way that sounded reasonable to him, he would likely do it.”_

A reasonable dictator. Great. Those were the most irritating, because they weren’t completely wrapped up in their own power fantasy and actually put their energy into actually ruling the country they controlled. Dictatorships were a double-edged sword when it came to influencing them, and it all hinged on the leader.

Power-obsessed dictators were easy, since they left the running of the country to underlings and that allowed EXALT to easily infiltrate and influence the country. But so-called _reasonable_ dictators were near-impossible, since they tended to cultivate loyalty and micro-managed every major aspect of society and government policy.

There were precious few dictatorships of either kind that were of any note, and North Korea was a near-perfect representation of the latter. They could definitely use this information, but at the moment she wasn’t exactly sure _how_ to use it. However…the mere _whisperings_ of a possible North Korean-XCOM alliance in the right places _might_ be enough on its own.

Well, Elizabeth had come through on Brazil. Time to see what she could do with this. “You’ve done well,” she lauded, inclineing her head to Kyung. “Your objective now is to gather proof. Take whatever precautions you need, but I want the world to know of this as soon as possible.”

 _“That will take time, Director,”_ Kyung warned. _“And I’m not sure XCOM would send an ambassador again even if they do decide to form an alliance.”_

“North Korea keeps documents, yes?” Saudia asked rhetorically. “Find them. Unless they censor themselves within the military, I doubt they’d keep the document showing the meeting of the Supreme Leader and the Commander of XCOM hidden. You might not have high enough clearance, but I trust that won’t be an issue, will it?”

His lips twitched at that. _“It will take time. But it will be done, Director.”_

“Good,” Saudia inclined her head. “I wish you luck, agent Kyung. Your work will not be unrewarded.”

 _“Assuming I live to enjoy that,_ ” Kyung commented wryly. _“But I appreciate it, Director. Until next time.”_

With that, he reached over to an unseen control and the hologram disappeared, leaving Saudia alone to ponder the ramifications of this information.

There was an opportunity here, and she was going to exploit it as much as possible.

***

_California, United States of America_

Abby looked in the mirror, making sure she looked presentable. Not bad, all things considering. She’d never pictured herself as a businesswoman, but she had managed to pull it off rather well. Black pants and jacket did contrast well with her blonde hair which she’d elected to keep long. She did wonder if she was overdressing a bit, but it never hurt to look professional.

She brushed a few strands of hair behind her ears and stepped back and left the bathroom. She spun around quickly and blinked a few times and everything blurred around her. It was still taking some getting used too, these gene mods as they called them. She hadn’t had time for extensive ones, but they’d enhanced her eyesight to an insane degree before she’d left.

It was amazing just what she _could_ see now. Inhuman was the best word, but didn’t really seem to apply here since she was still very much one. But something she hadn’t realized at first was just how much easier it was to read people. Minute facial gestures, twitches, rapid blinking, even to a novice like her she could suddenly catch a bunch of little hints indicating how someone was _really_ feeling.

It had been exciting for her, and now she was going to see just how good she really was. This was her first assignment without Ruth overseeing her and she was admittedly a bit nervous. But it wasn’t a particularly _difficult_ assignment. Zhang suspected that the local NBC station in San Francisco was a front for EXALT, or at least being influenced by them.

Her job was to observe, gather evidence one way or another and report back to Zhang. Her forged credentials were that of “Christine Rivers,” professional editor which would give her access to most stories that were being published. This would be her first day “officially” on the job, which would mostly be to assert her surroundings.

It wouldn’t really even be a part she’d have to play. Writing documents wasn’t difficult and editing was the same, just time consuming. Luckily she wouldn’t be completely alone in this, since Zhang had also assigned another agent to work. From what she knew of him, he’d been with XCOM Intelligence longer, but since he was posing as an intern, she wondered if she technically outranked him.

Since Zhang hadn’t specified, she was going to assume they were equals until someone decided one way or the other. She glanced at the clock, grabbed the keys to the car she was using and walked out into the bright California sunlight.

She winced and quickly put her sunglasses on. One downside to her vision being enhanced was she was more sensitive to bright lights, but it also tended to die down after a few minutes. Jochern was waiting for her, impatience written on his face as he leaned against the car. She’d been surprised initially how young he was; she was only in her mid-twenties, but he looked no older than twenty himself.

Still, he’d been nice and courteous to her and seemed like a decent person. She did note his expression change as he got closer, the irritation fading. “Sorry,” she apologized. “This look alright?”

He blinked once and she noted with some amusement that his cheeks were turning ever so slightly red. “Uh, yeah,” he managed. “Very good.”

How flattering, but he probably wasn’t that objective. She smirked at him and walked past him, lightly patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, let’s go.” They both got in the car and she began driving.

“So, where are you from?” She asked, glancing over as he looked out into the city. “I’m guessing not from around here?”

“Nowhere close,” he answered, looking back at her. “Germany. Berlin to be specific.”

“Ah,” she grew more serious at that. “Were you there when-“

“No,” he shook his head quickly. “I was already with XCOM by then. But it wasn’t exactly… _easy_.”

“I can imagine,” she agreed quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he sighed loudly. “Really. I think it’s partially my fault things got so out of control.”

She frowned. He was definitely remorseful about something. “Why do you say that?” She asked, genuinely curious.

His lips twitched. “I’m guessing Zhang didn’t tell you how I actually _joined_ XCOM Intelligence?”

“No,” Abby answered. “He just gave me your name and position.”

“Ok, short version,” Jochern shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I think I _might_ have accidentally been working for EXALT.”

Abby looked over, once eyebrow raised. He didn’t seem to be lying. “What do you mean _might_?”

“You know all those protests before the Hamburg attack?” He asked, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly. “I was friends with one of the leaders. There were some others interested as well, and one of them hired me to…well, spy on him. Give him updates.”

“You spied on your friend?” Abby repeated.

“Not quite,” Jochern scowled. “I became his friend after I made a deal with this guy. Seriously, I was almost certain he was government and didn’t exactly feel safe refusing, not to mention he was paying pretty well. Anyway, it wasn’t difficult to become part of his little revolution circle. Revolutionaries are easily idealistic and don’t like to believe the worst in people, especially those that say all the right things.”

Abby was starting to see why Zhang had brought him on. Even if he was a dishonest and manipulative person, she honestly didn’t think he was overly malicious. “So I’m guessing Zhang found out and offered you a job?”

Jochern coughed. “Uh, _no_. Apparently XCOM had been watching for a while, because they kidnapped me and stuck me in a cell for a few hours. Then the Commander himself came down and talked with me and since I cooperated, asked if I’d be open to a position in XCOM Intelligence,” he shrugged. “So here I am.”

Huh. That was admittedly _not_ the story she’d expected, but she was glad she knew all the same. Young he may be, but if Zhang and the Commander felt it safe enough to allow him a job here, he likely had some idea of what he was doing. “Thanks for telling me,” she said, nodding towards him.

“Yeah, no problem,” he shrugged. “So, my turn. What’s your story?”

She hesitated. “Less exciting than yours, I’m afraid. I was a combat medic in XCOM up until a few months ago. I was on the Dreadnought assault.”

His eyes widened. “Right! You _are_ Abby! I thought it was some kind of mistake when they sent your name to me.”

She smiled at that. “No mistake.”

“Why did you transfer here?” he asked, resting his elbow on the armrest as he looked at her. “You were a hero. Everyone who survived was. Why leave?”

Abby pursed her lips. She _was_ aware that some considered her a supposed _hero_ , but didn’t exactly feel entirely comfortable with that. “Zhang talked to me before that mission; he’d offered me a position. In the end I choose it because I felt I could do more good here.”

He nodded. “Guess that makes sense.”

“Question,” Abby asked suddenly. “You said _how_ you joined, but not _why_? You could have refused, yes? Why did you stay and risk death or worse?”

“How could I just… _leave_ when I _knew_ that aliens were invading?” Jochern demanded, gesturing aimlessly. “That’s not something I can ignore, especially when I contributed to it, no matter how small. I guess this is sort of a repentance for me, but more importantly, it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’d be surprised,” Abby commented. “A lot of people are afraid of death, no matter how just the cause. I saw that a lot when I was a surgeon. People talk a lot, but leave when things get tough.”

“Speaking from experience?” Jochern asked curiously.

“Not personally,” Abby shook her head. “I tended to keep to myself. But there were stories where I worked, even back to med school. I’d hear of wives or husbands leaving or divorcing when they learned their partners were terminal. There were always students who quit because it was too difficult. One thing that really stuck with me was the realization that most people don’t like challenge.”

“Somewhat reasonable,” Jochern commented. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly a fan of college work myself.”

“But you stuck with it and didn’t run,” Abby amended. “You’re fighting for something bigger than yourself, all of us are, but the truth is that most people don’t like their comfortable lives challenged or changed if they can get out of it.”

“Well, if the world is any indication, I think people are going to be finding out a lot about themselves soon,” Jochern said, looking back out the window. “Change is coming. War is coming and it’s not something people will be able to ignore.”

Abby glanced over at him. “You really think so? If the aliens were intent on conquering us, wouldn’t they have done it already?”

“I don’t know,” Jochern admitted. “But we can’t keep beating them without _some_ kind of retaliation. I don’t like it, but something is coming. The Commander knows it, Zhang knows it and the sooner we all accept that, the better.”

“If that’s the case, then what can we really do?” Abby asked curiously.

Jochern nodded to the studio they were pulling into. “We wound them any way we can. Starting with their puppets in EXALT.”

Abby unbuckled her seatbelt after she parked and looked at the studio building in front of her. “Then I suppose we should get to work. Let’s see how influential EXALT really is.”

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

Soran winced as he watched Samuel get slammed into the floor by Carmelita again. This time proved to be the final one he wanted to take and raised a hand in concession. Carmelita extended a hand to her defeated opponent and Samuel grasped it and she easily hauled him to his feet with him groaning.

“I told you I’d win,” she said as she took off her training mask. “Believe me now?”

“Point taken,” Samuel growled as he grabbed the water bottle Soran had been holding. “But this was so unfair it wasn’t even funny.”

Carmelita rolled her eyes. “What did you expect? I’m genetically enhanced now. I told you that would help me. Besides, I’m a much better melee fighter than you.”

On that Soran agreed. After seeing her fight quite a few times, he was certain Carmelita would have won easily even without her enhancements. Samuel was good, but nowhere near her level. Much less so now that Carmelita could pick up an armored man with apparent ease and throw him. The whole ordeal didn’t appear to exhaust her, either.

“You still haven’t beaten me,” Creed interjected, finally walking up. “Maybe now you’ll have a chance.”

She grinned at that. “You up for it now?”

Creed gestured to the training floor. “If you are. You sure you don’t need a break?”

From his tone, Soran couldn’t tell if Creed was actually being sincere or sarcastic. Carmelita apparently interpreted it as the latter and tossed a training mask to him. “Get out there,” she stated and trudged past him. Soran saw Creed give a wry grin as she walked past and put on the mask which matched his black armor.

There were already a fair number of soldiers in the training area and they were starting to gather around now that the two best operatives were facing off again. Soran had witnessed a couple matches between them, and each time Creed had ultimately emerged the victor. He was remarkably quick for his size, but he used it to his advantage whenever he could, which was why Soran suspected he ended up the victor. It would be interesting to see now that Carmelita’s genetic mods appeared to equalize her in terms of strength.

“He’s going to win,” one of the new soldiers commented walking up to them. Soran was pretty sure they’d never met. He wore typical XCOM training fatigues and had clearly been working out the past couple hours judging from the sweat on his arms and face. Soran would have initially thought he might have been from one of the African nations from his black skin, but his accent lacked any regional sound. So likely either American or Canadian.

“I would have agreed,” Samuel pointed out. “But then I actually fought her. It’s insane how strong she is now.”

“Strength isn’t why,” the man shook his head as he turned his attention to Creed and Carmelita preparing to fight. “It’s how he fights.”

“Have you seen him fight?” Soran asked, looking over. “Because strength is an essential part of why he wins.”

“Better, I’ve sparred with him myself,” he answered. “Oh, sorry. I’m James Nolan, Joint Task Force 2.”

“Impressive,” Samuel commented, his face echoing his words. “They definitely sent their best. Samuel, Army Ranger.”

He extended a hand and James took it. “Soran Kakusa,” Soran introduced himself as well. “1st Airborne Brigade.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” James inclined his head. “Though I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the unit.”

“Not surprising,” Soran acknowledge. “For the record I don’t know yours well either.”

“I’m kinda surprised at that,” Samuel commented, raising an eyebrow. “They’re Canada’s top special forces unit.”

Canada. So his initial reading on James had been close. “I wonder why that wasn’t mentioned,” Soran muttered.

“Probably because Japan doesn’t deal with them much militarily,” James dismissed. “Not a big deal for me. Looks like they’re going at it.”

Soran focused his attention back on the two duelists on the mat. Carmelita was beginning her typical relentless assault on Creed who looked initially unsteady as she began raining blows upon him. Her new strength was definitely playing a factor since she was forcing him back even with general strikes to his chest.

“I think he underestimated her,” Samuel muttered. “Serves him right.”

“Just watch,” James said.

It seemed like Creed was beginning to pick up on her moves and was doing quick sidesteps and in one smooth motion, planted his foot and spun around Carmelita and pushed her back and she stumbled to the ground but quickly recovered a few seconds later. Soran could swear she growled as Creed took a defensive stance, preparing for her second attack.

“He’s trying to tire her out,” Soran noted. “I don’t think that’ll work this time.”

Creed was too defensive when it came to sparring. At least in this case, since Carmelita’s stamina had been dramatically enhanced since her modification. His typical tactics wouldn’t work now. Instead of her typical charge, Carmelita bent her knees and leapt towards Creed in a single bound. There were some cheers from the soldiers at that, which Soran understood since this was the first demonstration for many of them.

 Creed didn’t seem deterred this time and stepped back at the last possible instant which made Carmelita’s charged punch hit air. Creed sidestepped, grabbed it and hooked his leg under hers and twisted her arm at the same time, flipping her over onto her back with a loud _thud_. Creed stepped back and assumed a ready position.

“Told you,” James said.

“He’s just making her angry,” Soran noted. “He can’t be defensive forever.”

Carmelita leapt to her feet and began circling Creed, apparently realizing this wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. Soran was actually somewhat comforted that a normal person could still hold their own provided they were well trained. Not that he had a chance against her, but it was good to know she wasn’t infallible.

Now Creed finally took the initiative and stormed towards her and began laying down a systematic routine of strikes to her chest, arms and legs. Carmelita matched each blow with a block, but only just since it was clear she wasn’t able to fully anticipate every strike. But the ones Creed _did_ land didn’t really seem to affect her at all.

“I wonder if he has a set routine,” Samuel wondered as he watched. “He always looks too choreographed to be random.”

“Probably sets,” James suggested. “If one isn’t working, he instantly switches to another and each set is three or four strikes. Switching every one or two might make it look random.”

Well, regardless of his methods, Soran had a newfound respect for Creed for managing to actually put up a fight against an objectively superior human. Physically, at any rate. Now the blows were looking even more random and quicker and Carmelita was missing more and more. She was also giving a step or two of ground every few seconds, but managing to circle around the mat so she wasn’t technically losing anything.

If it came down to a pure test of endurance, Soran couldn’t tell who’d win at the moment. Both of them seemed evenly matched, which meant that one would have to do something unexpected to end the fight, and right now, Creed was in the best position.

“He’s maneuvering her to the corner,” James noted. “Smart.”

Then Creed made his move. He faked a strike and immediately stepped back and Carmelita wasn’t able to stop her instinctive block and Creed lashed out with his left hand, striking her chest while grabbing her raised hand with his right one. He took advantage of her temporary lapse and forced it behind her back and kicked the joints of her knees, forcing her to the ground.

 _Now_ Creed used his size and strength to keep her pinned down, and no matter how much she struggled and thrashed, wasn’t able to remove him from her back due to his sheer size and body mass. She kept it up for nearly a minute before finally going still. She said something Soran couldn’t hear, but it must have been a concession since Creed stood up and then hauled her up.

The soldiers started applauding as both combatants walked off the mat. Carmelita went over to a nearby table and sat down heavily while Creed walked over to where Patricia was standing. Soran hadn’t noticed her come in and was instantly on guard. He still didn’t think she posed an _actual_ threat to anyone, but a healthy respect of psionic powers wasn’t a bad idea. Unfortunately, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop her from using them, should she choose too, or even if he’d notice to begin with.

“Told you he’d win,” James said with a satisfied smile. “Strength isn’t a match for technique. Especially not his.”

“Apparently not,” Soran agreed. “I suppose genetic modification doesn’t make you perfect.”

Samuel snorted. “Please. We’re human. We’ll _never_ be perfect no matter how much we try.”

“Eh, debatable,” James disagreed with a shrug. “I think these genetic mods will test that assumption.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll eventually come up with some “perfect soldier,”” Samuel continued. “I was speaking more broadly. Because the idea of what makes the “perfect” human is completely subjective.”

“True,” James agreed. “Though I wonder, are you going to undergo the modification if asked?”

“Probably,” Samuel answered leaning against the wall. “There isn’t a reason not to.”

“Future developments,” Soran interjected, and both men looked at him. “This is only the first wave,” Soran explained. “I assume these are permanent, yes? What if the next wave of developments are even better? Sure, right _now_ Carmelita is the pinnacle of humanity, but will that hold up in a few months or sooner?”

“Fair point,” Samuel mused, looking up. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, for the record I’d also hold back,” James said with a smirk. “Though mostly because I’m not certain all the kinks have been worked out of this program. You don’t want to be part of the first wave. The second or third is the best time to join. Much less risk of complications.”

That was the smart way to do things, but Soran wasn’t convinced that they’d refuse should the Commander ask them to be part of the program. They were ultimately soldiers who followed orders, and while Soran knew that the Commander would likely respect their choice, it was anathema in the military to go against a superior officer. Offers were often a masked form of orders.

The thing was that anyone asked would probably do it willingly, since the Commander _was_ someone who was universally respected among the soldiers. It was an attitude he hadn’t seen in…a long time. Now that he knew the Commander a bit better, he had to admit that the initial, and unusual, loyalty that he’d noted in the beginning seemed to be well founded.

At the very least, the Commander knew what he was doing. Which was relieving.

And also dangerous.

The Commander to him _did_ seem actually genuine, but again he wasn’t quite convinced it wasn’t an act to ensure loyalty.

Well, that was something he should decide soon. It _had_ to be decided soon.

“I’m curious,” Samuel said, bringing Soran back to the present. “What’s Canada doing about the aliens? I haven’t heard much.”

“They’re mobilizing the military of course,” James answered with a sigh. “But they’re keeping it as quiet as possible. Probably to preserve some semblance of normality. I think the government is hoping that the fighting doesn’t hit them when it starts. They’re probably hoping the US takes the brunt of any attacks.”

“Makes sense,” Samuel muttered grimly. “Because the US _is_ going to get hit well before Canada.”

“It’s cowardly,” James agreed. “But I sadly don’t have a say in command. But at least I’m here now.”

“XCOM only takes the best,” Soran nodded. “Glad to have you.”

“Thanks,” James said. “But I think this will work out eventually. We’ll come together eventually. No matter the past, this threatens the future for _everyone_. That can’t be ignored.”

Oh, it very well could be ignored. And since there had never been an instance in human history where _everyone_ came together for some common good, he didn’t exactly hold out any hope that _this_ would be the time. Humans were too diverse, especially today. The only way the world would work together was by force, and there was currently no organization powerful enough to force the United States, China and Russia to work together, much less the EU.

But they probably already knew that. If the full forces of the army hit, Soran wondered where they’d hit. With each major country conquered, the chances of one of the remaining superpowers taking it upon themselves to form one united government grew exponentially. America would likely make the most sense to remove first, or Russia.

Military power should be targeted first, and even though China had a massive military, they were more of an economic power than military. America was a military and economic power, not to mention they would likely try to work with Russia and China instead of conquering them. Whereas Russia and China wouldn’t be so friendly.

That’s what he’d consider if he was in charge, but it was pointless to think about now. He was a simple XCOM soldier who fortunately didn’t have to worry about the larger picture. Point, shoot and watch. That was his mission, and it was raising a lot more questions than he was comfortable with. He’d wondered if his superiors had anticipated this when choosing him to join XCOM.

Unlikely, since XCOM was just as secret as any black ops unit. They couldn’t have known.

He looked up and saw that Samuel and James had wandered off, still talking. He looked back to where Carmelita was sitting and was mildly surprised to see her still there. She looked pretty deep in thought, likely wondering how she could have lost her match with Creed. She still unsettled him, but right now she looked like a normal confused human being instead of a merciless killing machine.

“You almost had him,” he commented as he walked up.

She looked up at his voice and scowled. “But I didn’t now, did I? I guess I should thank him.”

“You should,” Soran nodded. “At least it was now and not in the field.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess gene mods can’t improve everything.”

“No, but you should take every advantage you can,” Soran advised. “You’re faster, stronger and can jump farther than him. Use that. You lost because you fought just as you had before.”

“You never mentioned you knew so much about martial arts,” Carmelita commented, sitting up straight, appraising him. “If I recall, I beat you rather easily.”

“But I can watch and observe,” Soran amended. “And you held back. Why?”

She paused for a second before finally answering. “It felt like cheating.”

That…was an admirable reason, not to mention one that made sense. “I see, and I’m impressed you did that. Though Creed _did_ agree to spar you, knowing your advantages.”

“True, true,” she sighed. “Though I’m not sure it would have made much of a difference. He’s better than me, no way around that.”

“That isn’t a bad thing,” Soran pointed out. “Competition is good.”

“It has been a long time since that’s happened,” Carmelita mused. “It gives me a goal, at least. Beyond killing aliens.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “Can I ask a question?” Soran finally asked.

She indicated for him to continue. “Sure.”

“Do you feel different?” Soran asked, crossing his arms. “After the modification, I mean.”

“Visually, a lot more,” Carmelita explained, gesturing to her eyes. “I can see _everything_. That rule post across the room, that picture on the far wall, probably every hair on your head if I wanted. It’s amazing,” she shrugged. “Physically, the changes are more subtle. I’m a lot stronger but don’t _feel_ stronger. I can jump stories as if I’d been doing it all my life. I guess I feel…more coiled? If that makes sense. Tense, alert, I don’t get tired anymore. I’m almost like a machine now.”

“An interesting comparison,” Soran noted.

“I’m not complaining,” Carmelita added, looking away into the distance. “This is what I’ve strove to be my entire life. All that remains is for me to figure out my limits now and turn them on the aliens.”

“So what will you do after the war ends?” Soran asked, wondering what she’d say. “Assuming we win, of course.”

“The aliens have a homeworld, yes?” She looked back up. “After we push them back, I’m certain XCOM will follow and finish the job, and when they do, I’m going to be there to wipe out their species once and for all.”

It lined up with what she’d said before. It was no less disturbing, even though her melodic voice was utterly calm. “You’d be fine with exterminating an entire sentient species? Even if they surrendered?”

“They’re willing to do it to us,” Carmelita stated. “I have no sympathy for whatever fate the Commander has in store for them. But if you’re asking if I would have an issue with it, the answer is no. They sealed their fate when they invaded this planet as far as I’m concerned. Save your sympathy for the rest of us who will die because of them.”

Well, fortunate that the Commander was more reasonable than that. Although…Soran didn’t necessarily think he’d rule out genocide if he felt it was necessary. But he doubted it would be the first choice. He wouldn’t approve either way, no species was completely irredeemable, but in this scenario it was unfortunately a very real possibility.

“You disagree,” Carmelita stated, a small smile on her lips.

“I do,” Soran admitted. “But I doubt either of us will change our minds over this. I suppose any decision like that will be left to the Commander.”

“Fine by me,” Carmelita agreed, standing up. “Because if there’s one thing he’ll do, it’s put humanity first, no matter the cost.”

She walked away and Soran watched her leave.

No matter the cost.

That particular phrase he’d heard many times, but he’d always considered it rather fanatical; something serious leaders didn’t throw around because the implications were staggering. And yet that sentiment was growing, if not outright accepted, not just in XCOM, but in the world at large. Extremism was likely to rise during turbulent times, and fear made people accept otherwise irrational and questionable ideas.

But in this case, Soran couldn’t exactly fault them for being scared. Unlike before, this had the potential to end in the destruction of humanity. XCOM had seen the brutality of the invading forces, so was it a surprise that they’d want to respond in kind?

No, it wasn’t. But the only thing he could really do is hope the Commander handled this with the reasonableness he’d seen before. But time would tell for sure, and for Soran, he felt that time was coming very soon.  

***

_Iran_

The Commander walked through the dusty streets of Tehran, pushing through the crowds of people making their way through the city. He absentmindedly brushed some sand off his desert garb, knowing full well that if was about as effective as removing a cut of water from the Dead Sea to lower its saltiness, which was to say, not at all.

But such was life now in the Middle East; sand, heat and terror. And he was fortunately in a position to do something about the third. This was by no means his favorite part of the world, but despite all of it’s issues, aesthetically it had it’s own charm. No matter what he did to it, the land itself would likely remain unchanged.

Now, where was-

He stopped walking and took a hard look around.

Why was he here? To see Farida, of course except…

He scowled. Farida was dead. This wasn’t real.

He was dreaming.

He looked around at everything proceeding normally. Well, he might as well see what she had to say this time. He wondered why he’d decided to dream up this memory of all things, he couldn’t really figure out what would trigger it. But he might as well see it to the end.

He could have just manifested himself at the small restaurant, but choose instead to walk. It really was amazing how he was recreating all this in his head, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. The human mind was capable of amazing things, as he was continuously finding out.

The sun still beat down on him, but since he knew it wasn’t real, willed the temperature to remain at a comfortable level for him. He saw the restaurant and Farida sitting at one of the tables just as he remembered. She wore the common grab of Iranian women, complete with an open-faced hijab. Not much different from the other women walking around.

She looked up as he approached and smiled. “I see you found me fine.”

He sighed as he took a seat. “No, I’m just an illusion in front of you. Of _course_ I found you. I remember this perfectly.”

Farida took a sip of her water. “I wouldn’t put it past you, to appear and vanish her just to spite me.”

The Commander also took a drink of the water that was in front of him. He didn’t know if that had been there to begin with or his subconscious had manifested it. “It would be a waste of time. I’ve accepted that this is just how things are here now.”

“To your credit,” Farida nodded, setting her drink down. “Even now, that’s something I can admire. You at least acknowledge the truth and don’t run from it.”

“Except on certain subjects,” the Commander muttered.

“Mhmm,” Farida looked directly at him. “So, why this memory?”

“I was thinking you would tell me,” the Commander answered. “Because I have no idea.”

“Perhaps distasteful regimes?” Farida suggested coyly. “I would never have expected you to ally with one like North Korea. It’s the epitome of tyranny.”

The Commander sighed. “You also know perfectly well that one, there will be no alliance unless North Korea makes concessions, and two, my options are limited and I have to do whatever it takes to prepare for the final invasion.”

“Always ends justify the means,” Farida commented. “You’ll never change, no matter what happens. You will sacrifice anything for victory.”

“Some causes are worth it,” the Commander defended, almost growling. “I won’t apologize for that. If the survival of humanity requires the deaths of my soldiers, friends and country, even my own life, I _will_ do it. You knew then, and you know it now. Stop pretending to be innocent, like you didn’t know who I was. You married me knowing that and I’m tired of you pretending otherwise.”

“Love makes people blind,” Farida retorted. “That certainly happened with me.”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t have married you if you were that blinded by emotion. The only reason you’re like this now is because you’re dead.”

“Perhaps,” Farida conceded. “But you didn’t answer my question. I think I do have some clue now.”

“Enlighten me,” the Commander stated, leaning back.

“You remember why we met?”

“Of course,” the Commander nodded. “To discuss your extraction to the states. You’d been helping me disrupt the Iranians and it was getting too dangerous for you.”

“It was also our first real talk,” Farida amended. “Not as unlikely partners, but as…well, friends.” Her voice got softer at the end.

The Commander remembered clearly now. She was right, it had been the first time they’d really talked outside of his mission. Now he had a pretty good idea why she was bringing it up, and also her theory. “You also told me that you think that was the moment you started to fall for me.”

“I’m glad you remember that,” she said softly. “I suppose it’s not a surprise you’d be reminded of it when you’re choosing my replacement.”

The Commander pursed his lips. He knew that it was only an illusion before him, but he’d hated hearing her so…betrayed and found it impossible to get mad at her for it. “This is about Vahlen.”

She shrugged. “You think I wouldn’t know?”

“You’re in my head,” the Commander pointed out. “Of course not. This entire conversation isn’t even happening.”

“Yet here you are,” Farida stated.

She had a point. “But that doesn’t change anything. She is not a “replacement” as you so eloquently put it, nor is it a betrayal. You’re dead.”

“On some level you don’t believe that,” Farida said quietly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be discussing it with you. We don’t talk about issues you’ve settled in your mind.”

The Commander was silent.

“No,” Farida paused. “It’s not that. You’re afraid to tell her who you really are.”

“Yes,” the Commander admitted. It would be pointless to deny it here. “Though I’m not sure I should be.”

Farida smirked. “You really have to ask that question? Yes, you should be. Perhaps she’ll see you for the liar and manipulator you are.”

“Maybe,” the Commander sighed. “But I won’t push anything further unless I tell her. She deserves that much.”

“She deserves better than you,” Farida shot at him. “And I think that you know that.”

The Commander didn’t even really register her attacks. He didn’t really feel like devoting the energy to refuting anything simply because this was one instance where he didn’t know the answers for certain. Maybe Farida was right and he wrong, for once. Or perhaps he was just not over Farida on some level and this was his subconsciousness’ way of pushing back.

He’d thought he’d moved on years ago, but was now wondering if that was really the case.

A loud _clang_ caught his attention and he looked up to see Farida trapped in a glass box. She looked around, confused and shot him a glare, then said something which he didn’t pick up. The Commander stood and shook his head. He wasn’t doing this.

“Why do you tolerate her?” The Commander turned to where the voice was coming from and for some reason, wasn’t surprised to see the same thin man from his dream last time. But his voice was wrong. No longer was it the sly, assured and oily one from before, but completely different. Now it radiated power, steel and authority. Deep and melodic, his words were accompanied by a reverberation after each syllable.

Suffice to say, the voice now sounded like it belonged to an entirely different being. A powerful one. He’d also apparently taken over other elements of the dream, since time was effectively frozen, people were stuck mid-walk, cars while driving and citizens arguing. The Commander turned to him, inclining his head. “You again.”

“I believe your previous wife has spoken enough,” the alien said with a satisfied smile and lowered his hand, palm down. The ground under Farida’s glass cage opened and it fell into it perfectly. “Now, with her out of the way, we can talk.” The alien finished as he walked over.

“I would have ended it eventually,” the Commander said as he prepared for the upcoming talk. If this alien was back, it was probably not going to end well.

“Of course you would have,” the alien placated, lacing his fingers together. “But I have no patience for wasting my time, and she was certainly wasting yours. You didn’t answer my question, why do you tolerate her questioning you?”

The Commander paused. “Someone has too, even if they’re wrong.”

“Interesting,” the alien mused as he walked past, looking around the frozen area of Tehran. “If that is truly the case, it again seems unnecessary. In all this time, has she ever convinced you that you’re wrong?”

“That’s not the point,” the Commander sighed. “I need to be able to defend what I do, otherwise I have no business giving orders that affect nations. You might not understand that, but I need to make sure I’m not living in an echo chamber.”

“I suppose we have different opinions on this,” the alien said, looking back at him. “Though I do understand you reasoning.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “Why do you even care?”

“Because you are of interest to me,” the alien stated, turning to face him, hands clasped behind his back. “Few species are worth taking note of, and individuals within them, even less so. There have only been several individuals who had attracted my attention, and you are one of them.”

That was interesting, even if he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the implications. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or not.”

“It matters little,” the alien answered dismissively. “But your time is running out, for you and your species.”

“Before we begin this debate again, I do want to know,” the Commander interjected. “Why me, of all people?”

“Because you are an anomaly,” the alien answered. “You possess and attitude and mindset that sets you apart from even other species. You are a living weapon, one who many have tried to wield throughout your life, but one who turned on them when you _knew_ you could do better. We both know you plan to remove the so-called Council of Nations, and they will join the United States in underestimating your cunning.”

“And yet you continue to give me a chance,” the Commander muttered. “Perhaps you will join their ranks since you clearly underestimate me.”

“Provided you had the army and technology, you would pose a threat,” the alien dismissed. “You lack both. Your weapons are still primitive to what we wield. We can replace our forces easily, every soldier you lose is a costly endeavor. You cannot fight a war of attrition, Commander. Unfortunate you are so opposed to us. You could have been useful.”

There was silence between them for a few minutes. “What are you?” The Commander finally asked. “A sectoid? A thin man? Something we haven’t fought yet?”

The alien looked at him, smiling as he did so. “Does it really matter?”

Well, he didn’t expect a complete answer to begin with. “Yes, but I didn’t think I’d get one anyway. Do you at least have a name?”

The alien looked up thoughtfully. “Names are meaningless without context. My true one would mean nothing to you, but if you wish, you may call me Aegis.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Is that your name or what you are?”

The alien, _Aegis_ , looked back at him. “I could ask you the same question, _Commander_.”

He had to smile at that. “Point taken.”

“It is interesting to observe the differences between your species,” Aegis said as he kept circling him. “Yours is unusually diverse. Most homogenize as they get to this point, yet yours seems to have accomplished the opposite.”

“Perhaps you haven’t invaded other species at the right time,” the Commander suggested wryly.

“Contrary to what you believe,” Aegis interrupted, his voice turning a bit frostier. “We don’t _invade_ every species we encounter, nor do we initiate contact with everyone either. We choose our members wisely; only those who can contribute.”

“Contribute to _what_?” The Commander demanded. “Your army?”

“Our _collective_ ,” Aegis corrected. “That is an appropriate word, yes. And each species contributes to their strengths. Your diversity is what makes you ideally suited for us, yet it is also why we instead opted against a peaceful encounter.”

“Why?” The Commander demanded in disbelief. “There would have been dissenters, but the majority would not have opposed peaceful talks.”

“Because war is in your nature,” Aegis stated, stepping toward him. “Your history is riddled with conflict. We have been watching you for decades ever since we discovered your planet. Your governments might accept us, at first. Then how many decades will it be until a human unites your species against us? We cannot _afford_ a betrayal on that scale.”

Aegis spun on his heel and motioned towards the frozen crowd. “Humans cannot accept a position where they are not in charge,” he stated. “There is only one cure for that. This _mindset_ must be changed. The leaders must be purged and the people shown that betrayal, sedition and war is not only unacceptable, it is _wrong_. And the only way to accomplish this is war. Brutality that the masses won’t forget.”

He turned back to the Commander. “It is unpleasant, and I would have chosen a different path, but this is the reality now. You understand this. You know that people must be shocked into thinking a certain way. You won the War on Terror, not simply against the Caliphate, but because you helped ensure another would never rise. You killed the religion that made it possible, made it unacceptable and wrong to the world and as a result prevented a future conflict.”

The Commander had never thought of it that way…but when put like that it was disturbing. “And what makes us worth all this trouble?” The Commander demanded. “Why not let us live in peace and move on to another species?”

“Because our time is running short,” Aegis said. “You will be the final species before we begin moving into the inner galaxy. We are not the only advanced species in the galaxy, and when we reveal ourselves, we will need every advantage possible.”

The implications of that hadn’t really registered with him, but the underlying reason was clear. “You need us if you go to war.”

“No,” Aegis stated flatly. “But your species has too much potential to ignore. You are worth the investment here.”

The Commander’s lips curled up. “We’ll see how that holds up. The cost will be high, I assure you.”

Aegis smiled. “You would do well not to underestimate us either, Commander. But you understand our power, unlike the esteemed Director of EXALT.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? I don’t suppose you could tell me a little more about her?”

“It’s useless to trick me, Commander,” Aegis answered coyly, inclining his head. “You will have to try better than that weak verbal trick. But EXALT severely overestimates their importance to us, and I, and my superiors, believe they need to be… _humbled_.”

“I tend to agree,” the Commander nodded cautiously, not quite sure what Aegis was getting at. “But hampering your allies unusually isn’t a wise strategy.”

“And having allies that seek to depose you isn’t wise either,” Aegis responded with a smile. “EXALT is under the illusion that they are… _playing_ us. Believing they can use us to fulfill their goal of controlling the world. An impossible dream, but it suits us now to have them believe that “the aliens” can be used so easily.”

“If you’re looking for me to sympathize, I don’t,” the Commander shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t want that,” Aegis shook his head. “I want you to hurt them. You are looking for the Mercado Estate, yes?”

The Commander nodded. “We are.”

“And you know it is in Beijing, but not where,” Aegis continued, sounding amused. “Allow me to show you.”

He raised a hand and the entire world changed in a whirl and the Commander suddenly found himself on a balcony, skyscrapers and city surrounding him. Aegis walked up beside him and pointed at a modest skyscraper almost directly across from them. “67 Tao Lu, 28893 Beijing, China,” Aegis said. “That is it, Commander. I’d advise you check beforehand, but you will see I’m correct.”

The Commander looked in disbelief. “You are the worst commander I’ve ever encountered. You don’t _give_ your enemies information like this. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I provided my reasons,” Aegis shrugged. “Debate my motives if you wish, but what matters is what you do with it. Your war with EXALT doesn’t hurt us in the least, and every defeat you hand them increases our influence against them. I lose nothing by sharing, and you have much to gain in this unimportant conflict.”

“Well, thank you,” the Commander muttered. “But your… _generosity_ …will come back to haunt you one day.”

“I highly doubt it,” Aegis answered. “But we shall see. Good luck, Commander. I will be watching.”

The Commander looked over and he was gone. He knew then that he could have woken up then, but held off for the moment. He needed to think.

And the silent recreation of Beijing provided the perfect place.

Everyone was just going to _love_ this.   


	28. EXALT Base Assault: Mercado Estate

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“So you’re saying that it…spoke to you?” Bradford confirmed slowly. “Again?”

“I doubt he would have brought it up otherwise,” Shen muttered. “Your alien friend is being unusually…helpful.”

The Commander scowled as he looked down. “I know. And it worries me.”

“To his credit, the alien cipher he gave you is still relevant,” Zhang reminded him, as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “We have yet to detect or discover any issues.”

“It still doesn’t make any more sense,” Van Doorn said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are the aliens _trying_ to lose?”

“No,” the Commander sighed as he wandered to the currently shut down holotable and looked down at it. “This time it might actually benefit them.”

“Explain?” Bradford said, picking up his tablet.

“The deal the aliens and EXALT have is currently benefiting EXALT more than the aliens,” the Commander began. “And EXALT clearly intends to betray them at some point, probably when we’ve been defeated or even sooner. The aliens aren’t exactly fans of that, but EXALT is an additional tool against us now.”

“But an independent one,” Van Doorn recalled, scratching his chin. “And the aliens want to control it directly, but couldn’t really do that because EXALT would also start fighting them and they’d have two dangerous organizations against them.”

“Unless, of course, EXALT started to perform worse against XCOM,” the Commander continued, seeing them start to get it. “A few losses are expected, of course, but the aliens will be able to justify a more direct takeover if, say, several major bases were to be attacked.”

“Such as the Mercado Estate,” Bradford said grimly.

“Exactly,” the Commander grimaced. “The aliens set up a perfect proxy war using EXALT. No matter who wins, they only become stronger. With every EXALT defeat, they use it to exert more control until it’s simply a puppet. With every XCOM defeat, their greatest opponent is weakened. This isn’t mentioning the resources we’re both using against each other. Resources that _should_ be used against the aliens.”

“I have to give them credit,” Zhang said, actually sounding impressed. “It is a masterful move, and one EXALT will not learn of until it’s too late.”

“Unless it were stopped,” Shen said, looking around the room. “The aliens clearly engineered this war between us. Perhaps…continuing the fight isn’t the answer.”

There was silence around the room. “Quite honestly, I would prefer that,” the Commander finally said. “But that isn’t an option anymore. If EXALT doesn’t recognize the aliens are playing them, they never will. And they were against us before the aliens became involved. Remember the cyber-attack? Germany? Aside from that I can’t ignore a global organization manipulating events for their own gain.”

Zhang nodded. “We can’t ignore the threat they pose, alien allied or not.”

“Imagine if those resources were turned on the aliens though,” Bradford mused. “Provided they could ignore their whole goal of controlling the world.”

“But this has to change something,” Shen pressed, stepping forward. “Would EXALT still wish war with us if they _knew_ that the aliens were using them?”

“I don’t know,” the Commander shrugged. “Even if it did, I have no way to prove it. What? You think they take what I say seriously? As the Commander of _XCOM_ or because I had a _dream_?”

“Aside from that, there is simply no way we can co-exist regardless,” Zhang pointed out. “Everything I’ve learned about EXALT shows me that everything is a means to one end: control of the world. In the hypothetical situation where we both agreed to a simple truce, the instant the aliens were gone, they’d turn on us to continue that goal.”

The Commander blinked as a new thought struck him. A simple one; but one that cast a new light on an idea he had.

What if they _already_ controlled the world?

Excluding the current impossibility of that, in theory that would lessen the possibility of betrayal. Of course that would also involve EXALT achieving their dream, and he didn’t think that would be a smart idea.

“This discussion is mostly pointless anyway,” Van Doorn muttered. “We have the location of the Mercado Estate, provided that this… _Aegis_ …wasn’t lying. It’s going to be attacked. We have no choice here.”

“But we might be able to contact the Director of EXALT directly,” Bradford recalled. “This is a major hub by all accounts. It’s important to EXALT, which means we might be able to take advantage of its connectivity.”

“In the event that _is_ an option, I will speak with the Director,” the Commander said, looking at Van Doorn. “Even if it’s unlikely, it might cause internal issues if I mention that the aliens are aware of their ‘subterfuge.’ I’ll give a short speech on how the aliens are using both of us and the whole spiel. They won’t listen, but I do want to gauge reactions.”

“Fair enough,” Van Doorn agreed. “Though what if they _do_ want a truce?”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Then it’s probably a trap and we should proceed _very_ carefully. But I think losing a major base will cause them to rethink certain actions against us.”

“In that case, we should move on to the direct aftermath,” Zhang said as he turned on the holotable and a map of China appeared. “First decision: Are we going to let China know we’re attacking?”

“EXALT probably has people in the government,” the Commander shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“Of course it’s not a good idea,” Zhang agreed, crossing his arms as he looking at the map intently. “But perhaps I should have rephrased that: How angry do you want the Chinese to be at you?”

“If they’re smart they’ll understand _why_ we couldn’t tell them,” the Commander insisted.

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Van Doorn said with a sigh. “But I can guarantee they won’t like it. It’ll set a very exploitable precedent if they let it slide too; because then any covert unit can perform operations in China without informing them, then claim it’s because the government is ‘compromised.’”

“Which we have no proof of,” Bradford noted with a pointed look.

“So what will the ramifications be?” The Commander asked, looking at Van Doorn. “I suppose they’ll cut their funding? Denounce us publically?”

“Probably both,” Van Doorn shrugged. “They might leave the Council, worst case.”

Zhang shook his head. “And leave Russia and the United States alone in the Council? Unlikely. Not to mention antagonizing us isn’t a wise move.”

“This could be considering antagonizing as well,” Shen pointed out. “Regardless of the possibility of the mission being compromised, it _is_ official protocol.”

“Say we go and find the whole Mercado Estate abandoned?” The Commander asked wearily, looking over to Shen. “Is _that_ going to be any better? At best we’ll look incompetent and at worst like we deliberately wasted their time.”

“There’s advantages and disadvantages to both,” Bradford said, setting his tablet down. “But I’m not sure antagonizing the Chinese any more is a good idea. We really made them mad with our Dreadnought stunt.”

“Vahlen, you’ve been oddly quiet,” the Commander said, looking over at her where she was looking aimlessly into the distance. “Thoughts?”

She blinking once, and shook her head and focused her attention on him. “I think it’s self-explanatory. Who is the greater enemy here? EXALT or China? If EXALT, we should take every advantage possible and deal with the Chinese afterwards. We can justify this; its China’s acceptance that will cause problems.”

“If we get a handle on this early, it might also negate some of the negative effects,” Bradford noted thoughtfully. “Van Doorn might be able to hold his press conference immediately after the attack.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Van Doorn commented sarcastically. “It’s been too long since I’ve been grilled by the media. Is setting it _right_ after a controversial mission really the best time?”

“If we want to control the narrative, yes,” Zhang agreed. “Public opinion can be easily swayed in the first few hours; after that it’s much harder. Besides, I think we could possibly cast some doubt on the competence of the Chinese government at the same time.”

“How?” The Commander asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Vahlen’s test subjects,” Zhang revealed, nodding towards Vahlen who pushed herself up and walked by the holotable. “I’d originally planned for an anonymous release, but I think this would suit our needs better.”

Vahlen’s eyes lit up at that. “Yes! I still have the bodies of the failed test subjects in storage we can use. It would be easy to say they were found at the Mercado Estate.”

“And would expose the heinous deeds of EXALT for all to see,” Zhang continued, his voice sounding almost smug even if his expression remained neutral. “It would prove that EXALT is not worth defending, and that we were justified in our attack.”

“And that all of this happened under the watchful eye of the Chinese won’t go unnoticed,” Bradford commented. “That actually might make them pull back on public comment.”

The Commander smiled. “Perfect. Well done, Zhang.”

“The genius is that it can’t be refuted,” Van Doorn noted, nodding at Zhang with respect. “Not really. It’s not as if EXALT can come out and denounce the footage.”

“Although we should be prepared for some kind of retaliation,” Shen warned, his voice subdued. The Commander was thankful that he’d refrained from any comment on using test subjects to begin with. “They collapsed Brazil. That theoretically means any country could be at risk.”

A good point. But it was worth the risk here. “Perhaps,” the Commander admitted, looking to Shen. “But we can’t be afraid of acting because of what _might_ happen. At best we might be able to make them rethink their strategy. Once they are exposed, people will begin connecting the dots.”

“As long as we’re aware of that,” Shen agreed with a sharp nod. “But I do agree in this case. While questionable, the plan here is sound.”

The Commander looked around the room. “Excellent, so here is a rough timeframe,” he motioned to China. “I’ll lead an assault on the Mercado Estate and secure it-“

“You’re leading the assault?” Vahlen interrupted, blinking several times.

“Yes,” the Commander nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s past time I took part in an operation. I’m expecting a small army to be waiting, so two skyrangers, including Myra, will accompany me in storming the Estate.”

“They’ll be in for a surprise,” Van Doorn muttered.

“After we secure the Estate, Van Doorn will have his press conference later,” the Commander continued. “He’ll end it with something along the lines of “We have evidence of the evil deeds of EXALT,” and so on, which will lead to us releasing the footage and test subject corpses.”

He looked around. “Sound good?”

There were nods across the room. “I suppose I’ll have to prepare,” Van Doorn sighed. “This is going to be _so_ much fun.”

“Should this go well, we’ll celebrate,” the Commander said wryly. “Drinks are on me.”

Van Doorn rolled his eyes. “Do you even drink?”

“No,” the Commander chuckled. “But you and Bradford do, and this is one time I’ll allow it on duty.”

“As long as it’s not the cheap stuff,” Bradford amended. “If we’re going to celebrate, we’re doing it proper.”

“Just make a list and forward it to me,” the Commander suggested. “But everyone do your jobs before getting too excited. We haven’t won yet.”

“True,” Van Doorn chuckled. “But the incentive of a small break is enough incentive.”

It actually was. The Commander really did want to allow a short break, even if for a few hours. They all deserved it after literal months dealing with the threats of EXALT and the aliens nonstop. But, first things first.

“Dismissed,” he ordered. They saluted and quickly filed out, minus Vahlen who stayed in place absentmindedly.

“Are you alright?” The Commander asked, concerned as he walked up. “You were oddly quiet.”

“Sorry,” she sighed, looking up. “I was just thinking about what the alien told you. Beyond where the Mercado Estate is.”

“Ah,” the Commander nodded. It would make sense she was fixated on the other interesting bits. “You mean about what Aegis said about the aliens themselves.”

“He called it a collective,” Vahlen muttered. “More than that, there are more aliens out there, just as powerful if he’s to be believed. The implications…it’s made me really think about how insignificant we really are here. This is only one conflict on one planet, not even a speck in the wider galaxy.”

“It does make you think,” the Commander agreed. “But we should probably focus on the aliens here and now, before worrying about the rest out there.”

“True, true,” Vahlen agreed, a slight sigh escaping her lips. “But I can’t help but wonder what these aliens are, what they’re like. Even this Aegis; I’m curious about his species, what drove them to their conquest of other worlds?”

“I think he made that clear,” the Commander said. “Because we have ‘potential,’ whatever that means, and they need an army for when they move the more advanced species.”

“Maybe,” Vahlen shook her head. “But something still doesn’t add up. I think we’re missing something and the missing piece is driving me crazy.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry too much about it. We’ll catch one of these aliens one day and you can ask it all the questions you want.”

Vahlen smiled at him, a full and genuine one. He knew her serious persona did initially put people off, but she really did have a beautiful smile. It was enough for him to ignore the other signs of stress on her face, the various specks of substances from the lab on it, the faint circles under her eyes and unruly strands of hair out of place. Stuff he’d not have notice before being enhanced.

But he’d never really nitpicked much around women he cared about. “Maybe as a Christmas present?” Vahlen suggested lightly. “I’d like that.”

The Commander gave her a smile of his own. “I’ll look into that. Hopefully the stores won’t be out of stock.”

She chuckled lightly. “Hopefully not, but I won’t hold it against you.” She reached up and gently grasped his hand in her lithe one and lowered it. “I know you’re enhanced now,” she continued quietly. “But you’re not invincible. I sadly wasn’t able to make that happen. But you surviving to Christmas would be good enough for me.”

He was tempted to make a smart comment about that, but ultimately didn’t. It would ruin the moment. “I’ll be fine, Moira,” he assured her, looking into her eyes. “And this time it’ll be because of you.”

“Mhmm,” she looked up and down his body. “I hope I did a good enough job.”

He gave her hand a slight squeeze, not too hard to avoid hurting her. “Trust me,” he said lightly. “You did.”

“Well then,” she let go of his hand reluctantly. “Let’s see you prove it.”

The Commander inclined his head. “With pleasure.”

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

“The police have essentially decided any non-government building will be abandoned,” Jackson updated as she pointed to a screen of Brazil. “They’ve pulled back severely.”

“Fatalities?” The Commander asked as he observed the screen. While Bradford, Zhang and Van Doorn were preparing for the Mercado Estate Assault, he figured it would be good to get an update on Brazil. Fortunately Jackson had been more than willing to update him on everything that had happened.

She was still under investigation, but initial reports by Zhang were indicating she was clean. A relief, really. She was proving to be an invaluable part of the team and he’d have hated to execute her for treason. Still, she wasn’t cleared yet, but the Commander felt it safe enough to accept information she had and consider her suggestions.

“Varies on which part of the city,” Jackson sighed and shook her head. “I’ve split the protesters into several categories now. Violent, non-violent and confrontational.”

“Give me the rundown on sizes and ramifications for each,” the Commander ordered.

She nodded and began tapping on her tablet. Several parts of Brazil were highlighted in green, predominately close to the cities. “The non-violent ones are the largest and most coordinated,” Jackson began, looking at him. “Predicative, as you’ve probably guessed. They’re trying to strategically protest where it’ll have the most effect, which is now at the capital. The primary method of communication is social media, which we’re monitoring for signs of extremism.”

“Are you forwarding them to the government?” The Commander asked.

“No,” Jackson bit her lower lip. “Bradford didn’t think it would be wise to rely on them and I agree. Any potential threats are forwarded to the acting military, which at the moment is split from the government.”

“Smart,” the Commander nodded approvingly. “But I can see these movements being hijacked by people looking to start a war.”

“Which is why we’re considering the confrontational group the most dangerous,” she agreed. “It’s not so much an organized group as it is a few individuals just waiting for _any_ excuse to fight. All it takes is one gunshot, one cop or protestor down and everything gets _much_ worse.”

Yes, it would. Which was why the police were probably tolerating these protestors for now. Because one wrong move would likely turn the city into a warzone and what would follow after that were mass arrests and detentions, something that neither the police, nor military had the resources for.

“So the violent protesters are outside the cities?” The Commander asked, looking back at the screen.

“Sort of,” Ariel tapped on her tablet again and red sections of the country appeared, much more scattered than the big green pockets. “They’re operating close to cells, and have attempted several coups in much smaller local cities and neighborhoods. The military is currently putting them down and I suspect they’ll be gone by the end of the day.”

“What of the government?” The Commander looked back to her. “Still radio silence?”

“Ever since the military took control of the Federal District, there’s been no word,” she answered, shaking her head. “I think we’re looking at a coup.”

Hmm. That might actually be beneficial since the military would be able to secure the country much quicker than if they were scattered. Of course it mattered who was in charge of the coup. “Who’s the acting head?”

“One sec,” Jackson raised a finger and the image of an older light-skinned Hispanic woman with graying cropped black hair appeared. She wore the dark forest green uniform of an officer with the accompanying medals and rank badge. If he had to guess, she was probably about his age, maybe a bit older. Her face was devoid of wrinkles, but was clearly worn and aged.

“Luana Russo,” Jackson continued, lowering her tablet. “Current Marshal of the Brazilian Army. Formerly Army General.”

“I suppose she gave herself a promotion?” The Commander guessed rhetorically. “So is she clean, or just taking advantage of the chaos?”

“Both, I believe,” Jackson answered slowly. “She wasn’t implicated, but I have no doubt that she’s taking full advantage of this, justified or not. She’s been a large proponent of increasing Brazil’s military power, which has made her very popular with the soldiers. It’s not a surprise she was able to rally them so quickly.”

“And the Navy and Air Force? Are they going along?”

“It’s not confirmed,” Jackson warned, her lips twitching. “But if either branch was firmly against it, they would have acted by now. But if this is a coup, things are probably going to get restricted _very_ fast, especially with her in charge.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because she appointed herself Marshal,” Jackson explained grimly. “And that title is only used during wartime. Should Russo announce that the military is taking control, the country is going to be systematically purged of any and all dissenters. At the very least we’re looking at a full lockdown of the country.”

The Commander frowned as he looked at the image of the woman. “Any other nations tried to make contact?”

“America, Mexico, Argentina and the United Nations have tried to establish contact,” Jackson informed. “No response.”

“Unsurprising,” the Commander said. “This mess will take months to sort out.”

“I’m more worried for the surrounding countries,” Jackson muttered. “Brazil is a major part of South America. If they suffer, everyone will. No matter who wins, the people are going to lose.”

She said it with such sadness and resignation the Commander looked at her again. The resignation was clear on her face, but not in an indifferent way. It was personal. “Do you know people there?”

“Hmm?” She looked up questioningly. “Ah, yes. My grandparents live in Argentina. Close to the border, actually. It’s hard enough for them there without Brazil collapsing.”

Huh. Jackson had never really mentioned that, and he’d never taken the time to look at her file. “You’re from Argentina?”

“No, no,” she shook her head, smiling. “Born and raised American. My parents immigrated years before I was born, but I’ve been there quite a few times. Most of my extended family is still there, in fact.”

“Well, I hope that everything turns out alright for them,” the Commander said, inclining his head. “But I’m not sure the situation will be resolved for some time.”

“I know,” Jackson sighed. “But I’ll still try, I want to do that much, not just for them, but everyone in the continent.”

“Do you have suggestions?” The Commander asked.

“Only one feasible one at the moment,” she answered. “We, or rather, _you_ , meet with the new Marshal. She’ll respect XCOM more than another government, and we might be able to get a hold in the country before it goes too far.”

“Look into that,” he ordered. “And prepare for a surge in talk about XCOM.”

“Bradford warned me,” Jackson chuckled. “Definitely making our public debut as large as possible. Van Doorn’s press conference and an attack in China. It’ll be definitely interesting to monitor.”

The Commander looked up to see Bradford waving him over. “Looks like we’re starting,” he told her, preparing to move. “Get ready.”

“Always, Commander.” She nodded. “Good luck.”

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

The Commander pulled on his gauntlets and flexed his hands, ensuring they were snug and ready. Satisfied, his stood, grabbed his helmet and walked over to the mirror, his boots causing loud _clanks_ to echo across the room as he moved. He took a good look at himself, encased in his silver armor, complete with the multiple marrings and scrapes from earlier battles.

Everything looked in place. Everything felt tight and snug, and the weight that normally slowed him down seemed to be non-existent. He could _feel_ the additional padding, but it wouldn’t _hamper_ him thanks to his modification. He was still fascinated that the rims of his irises were a faint gold, the color of MELD. It was a subtle, yet noticeable change of the modification that he rather liked.

But now it was time to form an assault plan with Zhang and Patricia. He felt it was time to involve her a bit more in the planning stages now so they could take full advantage of her abilities. She’d proven herself to be an excellent field commander, which was why she was going to be his second-in-command this mission.

Seventeen soldiers was far larger than any previous assault unit. But EXALT was no doubt expecting them, and he wanted to send a message of overwhelming force they wouldn’t forget. With Patricia’s psionics, his and Carmelita’s gene mods and Myra, he figured that _this_ time, XCOM had the clear advantage.

He turned on his heel and began making his way towards his locker. Time to get to work. He grabbed the gauss assault rifle and laser sniper rifle mounted inside it and placed them on the slots on his back. The gauss sniper rifle would have been more powerful, but he didn’t believe they’d be in a situation where that extra power would be needed. Aside from the low clip size, the laser weapons could still cut entrances and that might be more useful this time.

A gauss pistol, med-kit and smoke grenade. All good, time to head to Zhang.

He’d also let Van Doorn bring Herman up to speed on what was going to happen, minus the fabricated evidence, so he wouldn’t be completely unprepared. He could imagine the protests when he learned that China wasn’t going to be told ahead of time. A shame, but Bradford would deal with him if he became too disruptive, and the Commander honestly didn’t think he’d be a problem.

Herman was proving to be much less of a problem than he’d anticipated. If he kept up his unusually proactive attitude, he might even be inclined to bring him in further. It was clear by now he was no Council puppet. He was still a UN loyalist, but one who could think for himself and even admitted that the organization wasn’t perfect.

He still got the impression that Herman didn’t exactly _like_ him, but was without a doubt someone he could work with. However, he did wonder if the Council was pleased with his performance. He’d clearly not shared anything damaging, and the faction of the Council that was against him couldn’t have been pleased at that.

But until Herman gave him a reason not to, the Commander no longer considered him a dangerous threat. EXALT and the aliens had that pegged for now, and it was time to deal with them. He soon arrived at XCOM Intelligence Control, his helmet tucked under his arm as he entered the room.

Patricia was already there and armored up as well, her red armor just as marred as his, only even more noticeable since any disruption showed up much clearer on color. Both she and Zhang were looking at a hologram of a skyscraper, both stopped talking as he entered. Patricia immediately snapped into a salute and Zhang just nodded.

“At ease,” the Commander nodded towards Patricia as he put his helmet beside hers on a nearby table. “Zhang, I assume you’ve briefed her?”

“Yes, Commander,” Zhang confirmed and Patricia nodded as well.

“Good,” the Commander said, then looked at Patricia. “Any questions so far?”

“No, Commander,” she answered. “Though I will if any come up.”

The Commander motioned for Zhang to continue. He nodded and cleared his throat. “We’ve confirmed the location of the Mercado Estate. Officially it’s unused, but the owners of the property are being paid substantially every six months for the usage.”

“They’re renting it?” Patricia asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

“Probably as an additional measure,” the Commander guessed. “EXALT doesn’t lack money. If they ever get investigated by the Chinese, they’ll go to them first and give them time to either erase all evidence or leave.”

“Probable,” Zhang agreed. “But there’s more. All the entrances are barred or trapped. The cyber defenses are equivalent to the Pentagon and the amount of energy the building draws is substantially more than the surrounding block, much less an ‘empty’ building.”

“So our best chance is the roof,” the Commander noted, pointing to the roof of the building. “Safest, at any rate.”

“I would advise that,” Zhang nodded. “We weren’t able to detect any AA defenses, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And I would still expect ambushes to be prepared.”

Patricia snorted. “I doubt they could mount anything substantial without anyone noticing.”

“AA defenses yes,” the Commander answered, drumming his fingers on the holotable. “But I’m sure they have traps prepared. And _that_ will be where you come in handy.”

“I can’t sense inanimate objects,” Patricia warned him.

“I’m not talking about that,” the Commander shook his head. _“People_. Can you pinpoint nearby soldiers and their number?”

She closed her eyes. “I _should_ be able to. But we’ll be in a heavily populated area so…I’m not sure I’ll be as accurate with so many people around me.”

“Well, then this will be a good test,” the Commander said. “You won’t be working with small groups all the time.”

“I know,” she sighed. “It might be easier than I think. Soldiers have noticeably different minds, XCOM and EXALT even more so.”

“I also want to try using your powers offensively,” the Commander suggested, looking into her eyes. “How you do so is up to you, but limiting yourself to just sensing them is a waste.”

“What do you suggest?” Patricia asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Whatever you think will work,” the Commander waved dismissively. “Wipe their minds, force them to commit suicide, control them or terrify them. If I’ve understood you correctly, you’re only limited by your imagination.”

“But that takes time,” Patricia pointed out. “A few minutes at least.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “Then I would say this is either a good opportunity to get faster, or a chance to develop a new way of using your power.”

“If that’s the case, I might require cover,” Patricia said slowly. “It will require my full concentration.”

“You’ll have sixteen soldiers alongside you,” the Commander assured her. “You’ll have it.”

“In that case, what kind of defenses should we expect?” Patricia asked, turning back towards the holotable.

“We’re expecting the soldiers themselves to be ‘Venator,’” Zhang answered. “It appears to be a family name, but has also been used to refer to the elite soldiers of EXALT. They’re identified by orange bandannas, body armor and a ceremonial shoulder cape.”

“We fought them in Mexico, didn’t we?” Patricia recalled.

“Yes,” the Commander confirmed. “We didn’t know it at the time, but it did explain why those soldiers were more skilled than the EXALT guards we’ve fought previously.”

“Expect a hard fight,” Zhang continued. “Especially if they’ve got laser weapons. By now they might have also incorporated alien alloys into their armor, but that isn’t confirmed.”

“And once we’re inside?” Patricia asked.

“Unknown,” the Commander admitted. “Unless you’ve learned something, Zhang?”

He shook his head. “No. But expect traps, ambushes and choke points.”

“Right,” Patricia grimaced. “One grenade and _boom_.”

“Which is when you’ll be essential,” the Commander reminded her. “Myra will also be restricted.”

“Good point,” Zhang scowled. “Let’s hope the floors are weak inside.”

“Maybe you should have Shen design a smaller MEC,” Patricia suggested. “Maybe one that acts more like an exoskeleton instead of a walking tank. Bigger isn’t always better in this case.”

The Commander and Zhang exchanged a look, and Zhang shrugged. Well, she did have a point. “I’ll bring that up next time,” he said. “I appreciate the suggestion.”

“Of course, Commander.”

That was probably the most relevant information they needed. Time to actually make a plan. “Now let’s get a plan together. Zhang, did you get my soldier list…”

***

_The Citadel, Hanger Bay_

“How do you do it?” Patricia asked as they walked to the hanger. “Stay so composed all the time? I’ve not felt you waver at all.”

The Commander thought for a moment. “Probably because I don’t see a reason to. Should I feel nervous, surprised?”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Patricia noted, her voice somewhat subdued.

“I know,” the Commander sighed. “But I’ve fought and seen so much that it’s not quite as frightening or disturbing as the first few times. Very little can surprise me.”

“Ah,” she said. “Yes, you probably would have.”

He wondered if she would make a comment on his past, but the moment for that soon passed. “Yes, to answer your question, I am.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked to the side as she walked up. “Sorry?”

“You had a flash of curiosity,” she shrugged. “Yes, I’m still a bit nervous before entering a firefight. A bit more so now that there’s additional pressure.”

“As long as you control it, that’s all that matters,” the Commander encouraged. “And you’re perfectly capable of what I ask. I know it.”

“You really do,” she said quietly. “Thanks, Commander.”

He smiled to himself as they kept walking. Both of them approached the hangar door and the Commander flipped his helmet in his hands and placed it on his head, the _hiss_ of the air seeming loud as the helmet sealed and clicked into place. Patricia performed likewise and he nodded at her. “Showtime,”

She saluted and inclined her head. “Let’s get’em, Commander.”

He waved the door open and strode in, his hands clasped behind his back with Patricia flanking his right side. The fifteen soldiers and two pilots waiting for them quickly formed into two lines and snapped into salutes.

The Commander gave them a second to form up, feeling a surge of pride as he looked at the group of his soldiers. Most had grey, white, tan or black armor, but some had put some color in it, like Patricia but not to an obscene extent, but enough to identify a specific soldier by the armor alone.

This was everything humanity could be; soldiers of different branches, countries, ethnicities and ideologies coming together for the common good. Each individual soldier contributing to the greater good, not matter their past. If only the rest of the world could do the same.

Fortunately, that day might come sooner than later.

“At ease,” he ordered, letting his gaze sweep over them, his HUD identifying the soldiers before him, but most he knew by sight. Even the newer soldiers he knew their names and histories, and after this he wouldn’t forget them for sure. There was a bond forged in combat that could never be broken after.

“We have located a major command center for EXALT,” he revealed. “Our mission will be to storm it and secure it and in turn deal a major blow to the organization and expose their illegal activities not just against us, but the world.”

He paused for a moment. “This will be the largest operation undertaken so far; it will not be an easy fight, but you were all selected because you were the best. Now you will prove it to EXALT and the world. Our plan of attack will be discussed en route to the LZ.”

He stepped to the side and motioned Patricia to step forward. “Specialists Soran, Samuel, Shun, Veronika, Sarah, Marten and Lesedi, come with me. The rest will be with Patricia,” he motioned to the skyrangers. “Load up!”

“Yes, Commander!” They shouted in response and eagerly jogged into the skyrangers. Myra also trudged over to her MEC and began suiting up. The Commander took a seat in the skyranger and watched the door lower and the ramp be raised. He flexed his hands, eager to test his new limits.

 _“This is Big Sky to Citadel Commander,”_ Big Sky said. _“We’re departing now. Burning Sky, Gray Sky, you copy?”_

 _“Copy,”_ Burning Sky answered.

 _“Loading MEC now,”_ Gray Sky answered. _“We’ll be airborne in one.”_

 _“Copy,”_ Big Sky affirmed, his tone on the edge between cocky and serious. _“We’ll be waiting. Let’s go kill some traitors.”_

***

_Skyranger, En route to Mercado Estate_

The Commander set a box in the middle of the skyranger floor, pressed the side button and a blue light flickered and finally displayed a crude hologram of the Mercado Estate. He paused for a second for Patricia to set up her own hologram.

“This is the ‘Mercado Estate,’” the Commander said. “We’re unsure if this is the proper name for their base, but several EXALT captives have referred to it as such. Officially an abandoned building in Beijing, EXALT operates from here in secrecy.”

“Are the Chinese aware that EXALT is operating in China?” Soran asked.

“Likely,” the Commander said. “However, there’s been no indication that they’re taking it seriously. This may also be due to EXALT infiltration within the Chinese government.”

“Are we working with the Chinese on this?” Shun asked curiously, fiddling with her gauss rifle. “They won’t take kindly to XCOM-“

“We can’t risk the EXALT learning of an attack in advance from Chinese agents,” the Commander interrupted firmly, making it clear he was shutting this line of talk down. “No. XCOM is performing this independently. The Chinese government will be handled after the mission is completed.”

Shun gave a quick nod. “Understood, Commander.”

“Now,” the Commander motioned to the hologram. “We’ll be deploying on the roof and beginning a systematic sweep from there.”

 _“What should we expect?”_ The voice of Creed asked.

“EXALT’s elite soldiers,” the Commander answered. “They’re referred to as “Venators,” some of you fought them in Mexico, so we’re likely in for a hard fight. Do _not_ underestimate them. This is _their_ turf.”

“Which likely means traps,” the CT agent Veronika noted.

“Probably,” the Commander agreed. “But we’re not pressed for time here. We’ll clear floor-by-floor if needed. We’ve also got Patricia to warn us of any possible ambushes.”

 _“I’ll sense for hidden groups,”_ Patricia said. _“They won’t be able to hide behind walls.”_

“They’ll probably let us make the first move,” the Commander said. “So we’ll have time to set up. That’s best case though. Once we’re in position on the roof, Myra will be dropped and we’ll proceed inward.”

“Will Myra be able to fit inside?” Marten asked, looking around the skyranger. “I’m, uh, not sure she’ll fit in the elevator.”

“Worst case, she cuts a hole in the floor,” the Commander answered. “We’ll have a better idea once we land. We don’t know the layout, so we’re going in blind beyond the first floor.”

“There’ll probably be a lot of hallways,” Samuel observed. “Perfect for grenades.”

“Which we’ll have to be careful of,” the Commander agreed. “We’re not sure what we’ll find here, so capturing prisoners is not a priority. They’ll be useful, but if given the chance, shoot to kill. I don’t want to lose anyone today.”

“Here, here,” Shun agreed.

“Then prepare yourselves,” the Commander advised, leaning back. “Our victory here will cripple EXALT’s operations in Asia. Let’s make it happen.”

There was a chorus of affirmation and they lapsed into a subdued silence as they sat anxiously in preparation for the final deployment. A short while later, the lights turned a hard red and all the soldiers instantly sat up. _“Commander, this is Big Sky,”_ he said. _“One minute till arrival. Prepare to deploy.”_

“Got it,” he confirmed. “Specialist Trask, you ready?”

_“And waiting, Commander.”_

The Commander stood and made his way near the exit and the rest of the soldiers stood and unhooked their weapons with a variety of clicks and hisses. Some still used laser weapons, the rest gauss. Soran stood beside him, holding the gauss rifle calmly. “This is it,” he muttered, seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

The Commander didn’t feel that warranted a response, so let the comment fade into silence. His gauss rifle felt unusually light, but no less solid. Time to see what he could do with it. The skyranger gradually slowed to a stop and the ramp lowered with a hiss and a cool wave of air hit him as they hovered over the skyscrapers.

It looked so tiny, surrounded on all sides by concrete and steel behemoths. Thousands of people unaware of what was about to happen. The Commander looked down; past the skyscraper to the far ground below. No way would his modification save him from this height. One misstep and he’d plunge to a rather undignified death.

But life was always full of risks, and all he had to do was land on one specific skyscraper.

Easy enough.

He looked to the side to see Burning Sky’s skyranger hovering alongside his own, Patricia already ordering her team to deploy as ropes deployed from the sides. A few seconds later ropes fell from his own skyranger.

No response so far, excellent.

“Deploy!” He roared and charged off the ramp and onto the roof below.

***

_Beijing, Mercado Estate_

The Commander hit the ground with a soft _thud_ and took a moment to observe his surroundings as the rest of the soldiers landed behind him. Immediately to his right was an elevated helipad. Empty, but it might provide some cover should they be attacked out here. There were also six AC units on the rightmost side, which would also be essential.

Still, there was precious little cover everywhere else. But probably twenty feet in front was the entrance to the Estate itself. Two wide glass doors were the only visible entrances he could see. Concrete walls extended from the doors to almost the edge of the roof itself, and they lacked any sort of windows or openings that he could see, and the walls were devoid of any sort of paint or covering. It had clearly been designed to be as inconspicuous as possible.

But just from here he could see just into the initial room. A strange black pyramid caught his attention as it was the centerpiece in the entrance. A couple portraits hung up on the wall of unknown people and he could see a couple red rugs that led into opposite rooms to the right and left of the entrance. It looked rather luxurious, with the two lush oak chairs and ornate table with a vase of healthy roses, which he supposed wasn’t a surprise for an organization as old and powerful as EXALT.  

The rest of the soldiers grouped up behind him, weapons at the ready. “Get into cover,” her ordered as he began moving towards one of the AC units for cover. “Patricia, you’re with me.”

“Got it,” she answered, raising her gauss autorifle and taking her place beside him. The soldiers with longer range weapons went behind the helipad ramps and railings and raised their weapons at the entrance. The rest of them took positions behind the AC units, the ones with the new gauss variant of the shotgun, the ‘Alloy Cannon,’ taking a more forward position.

Myra landed soon after and took a place near the center, her own weapon trained on the entrance as they waited. “We’re in position,” Creed affirmed from the helipad, looking over to visually confirm with a nod.

“Acknowledged, don’t move until I give the order,” the Commander looked over to Patricia beside him. “Do your part.”

She nodded and let the tip of her weapon hit the ground as her free hand closed into a fist. The Commander kept his attention focused on the entrance, looking for some sign of EXALT, but occasionally glanced back to Patricia. At first everything seemed normal, but now there was a very clear distortion around her, almost like a heat wave where the air rippled around her.

“There are twenty, maybe thirty in the room beyond,” she said, her voice doubled and sounding uncomfortably like Aegis. “They know we’re here. They’re coming.”

“Good job,” the Commander nodded. “They’re coming!” He called to the rest. “Get ready!”

A sense of calm suddenly fell upon him, the world instantly seemed to become crisper, clear, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. The sounds of the night faded away except for the sounds of their breathing and the movements of the soldiers. He felt a hand touch his shoulder pad and grip it, and he turned to see Patricia doing it, faint wisps of purple energy sparking off her.

He blinked as odd thoughts began entering. _Two groups of four soldiers running now. Coming up the stairs. Coordinated. Prepared._ He knew more than should be possible; he knew _where_ they were now.

Which meant he didn’t have much time. “Leonid! Fakhr! Prepare rockets to fire on my command. Aim for the entrance!”

He looked over to see both soldiers already beginning to load their rocket launchers, as if they’d started before he’d even finished the command. Leonid finished first and aimed his rocket at the entrance from on the helipad. Fakhr finished a few seconds later and knelt down in the gap between AC units and aimed her rocket at the opposite side of the entrance.

Just a few seconds more. The soldiers were _just_ stepping into the adjoining rooms… _now._

“Fire!”

Both soldiers fired even before the first letter was out of his mouth. Both rockets sped towards the entrance and shattered the glass doors as they hit and finally crashed into the hard wall. Or at least, would have, had a group of EXALT soldiers not charged through first.

The night lit up with a tremendous explosion that rocked the roof. The odd sculpture that had been in the middle of the opening room was gone and the Commander saw the area splattered with shrapnel, fire and blood. It also broke whatever trance Patricia had put them in and the world resumed it’s normal noises and distractions.

There must have been more EXALT soldiers directly behind the first wave, because they immediately took up positions behind the ruined walls and began firing their laser weapons. XCOM returned fire instantly, barrels flashing red as they spat out deadly projectiles. The Commander peeked out from cover and got a first real look at them.

Yep, they were definitely Venator. At least six armored men and women were methodically aiming and shooting, seemingly nonplussed by the death of their comrades. They were well trained too, they were dodging gauss and laser fire from all sides while managing to fire off some shots of their own.

The Commander lined up a shot with his rifle and fired. The EXALT soldiers he aimed at fell back, his head virtually gone. It hadn’t even been a difficult shot thanks to his enhanced eyesight.

“Look to the walls!” Veronika called out and the Commander noted suddenly that some of the bare concrete walls on both sides of the burning entrance he’d noted earlier slid up to reveal twin turrets per wall, each one manned by an EXALT soldier, though these wore red bandannas. Well, it seemed like they held something interesting after all.

The turrets themselves were single-barreled, though massive in size, about twice as large as an XCOM autolaser and were built behind the wall so the more delicate machinery of the turret was protected. The gaps in between the turret and wall, which allowed them to swivel and aim were apparently unprotected, but he did note that there was some kind of glass or plastic that covered the gunner’s heads, which he assumed was bulletproof at the very least.

It might stand up against bullets, but gauss powered projectiles might be a different story. He began lining up a shot but before he could do so the turrets began firing simultaneously, red bursts of light spitting out at an incredible rate, eating into the AC units most were hiding behind and already the cover on the helipad was behind reduced as the lasers tore into it.

The entire front line of XCOM was forced into cover as the lasers raked over the initial area, scorching the metal which also sparked with each laser pulse. “Myra! Take care of the entrance!” The Commander ordered as he heard a lull in the fire. “Everyone else concentrate fire on the turrets.”

 _“Copy, Commander,”_ Myra affirmed and charged toward the entrance, her flamethrowers clicking into place as she stomped toward the five EXALT soldiers who frantically fired beams of fire in a vain effort to stop her.

Carmelita peeked out and took a look where the turrets on the left side were, leaned back and turned on her heel. Taking a step back, she jumped up into the air, over the AC unit towards the far wall, landing in a perfect place between the two turrets that couldn’t swivel to aim at her. James took her spot, and he, Veronika, Patricia and Carmelita began firing on the turrets.

On the other side, entrenched on the helipad, Samuel, Tayla, Marten and Shun were all focus-firing the turrets on the right side of the entrance. Lesedi and Soran were taking longer shots at the opposite one from the back. The protective glass _did_ manage to sustain an impressive amount of fire, but it proved to not be as strong under a hail of gauss fire.

A scream rang out and the Commander looked to see the ruins of the turret closest to the left side of the building, the barrel shattered and blood splattering the broken glass of the head protection. He couldn’t see _directly_ into the building, but he assumed that the person manning the turret had died.

 Carmelita reloaded and cocked her alloy cannon and begin repeating the procedure with the second turret, sending shards of metal at the likely-terrified soldier. _“Flushing them out,”_ Myra informed at the building’s entrance and cones of flame burst from her wrists, engulfing two soldiers instantly and forcing the remaining ones into a complete retreat.

Another shout from the right side indicated that another turret had been neutralized. “Hold position!” He called to Myra. He didn’t want to split them up yet.

“Snipers!” Soran called and the Commander looked to the roof to see six more EXALT soldiers taking positions in well-made and defended snipers nests which had clearly been erected after the fighting started. They were barriers similar to the deployable cover he’d seen EXALT use before, but these were a dark gray and had narrow slits just big enough for a sniper rifle and a sharpshooter to look out of.

“Take them out!” The Commander ordered as he began aiming at the snipers who began raining sizzling beams of energy down on the XCOM soldiers on the helipad.  He tried lining up a shot but scowled and put it away. He needed a sniper rifle if he wanted to land a shot and quickly switched to it.

“Ah!” Marten grunted as a laser beam hit his shoulder, forcing him back. The remaining turret was still firing at them, making a retreat suicide. The Commander suddenly noticed one of the snipers put down her rifle and raise a very familiar weapon in its place while aiming towards the helipad.

“Rocket! Clear the helipad!” The Commander yelled and tossed his smoke grenade into the area to give them some cover. The five XCOM soldiers began running back as the rocket struck the ground near them a second later. Shun, Samuel and Lesedi were thrown to the ground by the ensuing shockwave, but seemed otherwise fine. Soran tossed another smoke grenade as sniper fire continued raining down, some striking the armor.

Marten and Tayla weren’t so lucky. Marten was torn apart by the proximity of the rocket striking him, and Tayla suffered the same fate, albeit that she didn’t die instantly. Missing several fingers and covered in blood from her wounds, she tried raising her hand for help, but several precise sniper shots ended her life before the Commander could even think of rushing over to help.

“Two down!” Lesedi called furiously as she returned sniper fire with her own weapon. Still behind the far back of the helipad, she’d avoided being caught anywhere near the blast.

“Status!” The Commander called as he and Patricia rained suppressive fire on the snipers.

“ _Got my arm and leg,”_ he heard Samuel answered. “ _I’ll be fine. Get Blake for Shun, the shrapnel got her bad.”_

Ok, maybe they’d all _not_ gotten out ok. He risked a glance back to Samuel, then scowled as he realized that they were behind the back AC unit and he couldn’t see. He quickly adjusted his helmet feed to Samuels and he hadn’t exaggerated.

It looked like the armor had absorbed most of the blast, but the shrapnel had embedded itself in her joints and gaps in the armor. He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly; not a good sign. “Blake! Get back and help her!”

“Copy!” Blake yelled from his left and began running back.

 _“More are coming,”_ Myra informed, taking a step back as a new barrage of lasers hit her, leaving her armor more scorched than ever.

Options. Right, the snipers had to be eliminated, the turrets had to be eliminated. The snipers had the advantage here, and they would definitely make another rocket attack difficult due to sheer number of them. But he had a much better idea for how to deal with them now.

“James! Switch weapons!” He called pulling out his gauss rifle by the barrel. James didn’t question him and tossed his alloy cannon towards the Commander and he tossed his weapon in return. The Commander caught the square-barreled weapon, easily. Like all the gauss weapons, it was a _solid_ weapon, it’s barrel plated with alien alloys and the core glowing a soft gold. He cocked the weapon and looked at Carmelita.

“We’ll take them on the roof!” he yelled, then looked at Patricia. “Patricia, lead the ground attack. Carmelita and I will clear the roof!”

“Got it!” She confirmed. “Covering fire on the snipers now!”

As they were forced into cover by the barrage of magnetically propelled projectiles, the Commander rushed up to the wall by Carmelita and looked up. Yes, he could make the jump. He bent his knees and pushed up. He overshot the guard wall by a few feet, but was easily able to position himself to land on the roof with ease.

Carmelita landed beside him, falling to one knee and quickly rose. The Commander took the opportunity to look around the roof. Ventilations shafts ran across it in an apparent random order. They might provide cover in a tight situation, but the Commander didn’t exactly think they’d hold up well against lasers.

A concrete wall about waist high ran around the perimeter, and the side facing the current warzone had several snipers nests set up, the EXALT snipers focusing fully on the much larger squad down below. The Commander also noted some skylights, two roughly placed in the middle, and two in the back of the roof. They appeared to be glass and seemed to lead down inside the building itself. The skylights themselves were angled up, almost structured like a mini-roof of it’s own.

Interesting. He’d have to make use of that once the snipers were dealt with.

He and Carmelita both exchanged a look and then focused on the team of snipers methodically shooting at XCOM. One of them looked up, noticed them and shouted, eyes widening as he saw the new threat.

The Commander smiled, took a running start and jumped again towards them. All of them stumbled back in surprise, their red and orange bandannas whipping in the wind as they struggled to switch weapons. The Commander landed directly in front of one at the end and fired point-blank into the first lightly armored sniper, caving in her chest and blowing her body back several feet.

Realizing that he wouldn’t reach his weapon in time, the second woman charged him from the side, brandishing a serrated knife. The Commander smiled and stepped to the side as she swiped at his neck. The Commander easily caught her arm and twisted it with no more effort than snapping a branch. She screamed as the joint almost completely turned around as a result of his new strength.

In one fluid motion he kicked her to the ground and pinned her with his boot while following up with another blast from the alloy cannon into her head which turned it into a red splat on the concrete. This weapon was now in the running for his favorite. Remembering the others, he quickly spun around but needn’t have worried.

Two EXALT soldiers laid on the ground, their chests and limbs ripped apart from Carmelita’s alloy cannon. One body was sprawled against a skylight, his blood coloring the glass a dark red and the other was hung over a now-dented ventilation shaft, most of his head gone and leaking blood onto the concrete.

The final two were retreating across the roof, leaping over the ventilation shafts and running over the skylights, firing frantically with laser pistols while Carmelita stormed toward them, basking in their terror.

And they _were_ terrified.  He could see it in their eyes. Their red bandannas meant they weren’t part of the Venator EXALT soldiers, these were probably just guards realizing their lives were about to end. Carmelita seemed in no rush to finish the job either, as he saw her maneuvering them into the far left corner of the roof. Panic made their laser beams go far to the right and left, even making the rare hit was barely noticed by Carmelita.

The Commander decided to save some time and leapt over the skylights and ventilation shafts and landed on the left side of the roof, a short way across from her and the terrified EXALT soldiers, essentially ensuring that they wouldn’t keep retreating.

Once the rightmost soldier backed into the concrete barrier, Carmelita made her move and charged with blinding speed towards him, grabbed him by the throat and raised him a few inches off the ground. The Commander also charged the final sniper closest to the corner and fired the alloy cannon at his upper chest.

His body turned red as his throat was shredded, along with his jaw and shoulders. The body was thrown back by the force into the barrier where the corpse went still. The Commander looked over to see Carmelita slit the man’s throat and then toss him off the building, blood spilling from his neck as he fell to his death.

The Commander snorted as he walked over to her. “That might have been a little excessive.”

She looked over, her helmet and armor splattered with blood. “It worked.”

Well, he couldn’t exactly argue that. “Fair point,” he conceded. “Patricia! We’ve cleared the roof. Status?”

 _“Both turrets are destroyed and we’re moving inside,”_ she answered. _“Shun is stabilized and I’ve left Soran to watch her. We’re currently holding outside the deep interior.”_

The Commander turned his attention to the skylights, taking the opportunity to look inside them. He couldn’t see much from the limited view, but it seemed to be as well-furnished as the entrance, although he couldn’t see any soldiers inside from this angle. But it was definitely a weakness they would exploit.

He indicated them to Carmelita with a nod. “Look,”

“Ah,” she noted, walking cautiously up to them. “This will be useful.”

“Agreed,” the Commander said with a smile. “Patricia, there’s skylights on the roof. Once you begin your second attack we’ll come through them for a flank.”

 _“Understood,”_ she acknowledged. _“I’m sensing at least a dozen inside. I’m going to try something, stand by for my attack.”_

The Commander waited a few minutes, both he and Carmelita ready to break the skylight and drop inside. _“Attack in three,”_ Patricia finally said. _“One, two, three!”_

Both the Commander and Carmelita fired their alloy cannons into the skylight and it shattered after a few volleys. Carmelita pulled out her laser pistol and quickly cut the beams impeding their way as the shattered glass fell to the floor. Their way clear, both jumped into the room and landed in the back of it, large floor-to-ceiling windows behind them.

His first impressions had been correct; this was one of the most ornamented rooms he’d ever seen. Red rungs lined the floors and skins of rare animals were displayed prominently throughout. Portraits and paintings hung upon the walls and every piece of furniture was a rich, expensive oak.

There was also something like a second floor over the whole room. At each side he noted a stairway the lead up to it, which then extended to something like a balcony almost up to the entrances that let to this room on the left and right. These two apparent balconies, which were lined with wooden railings and red rugs on the floors, were connected by one overarching bridge which overlooked the entire room.

The room also had a small u-shaped depression in it, starting from near the entrances, and then wrapping around the elevated centerpiece of the room. The Commander noted two more sets of stairs that led down right from their own position, leading into the depression that seemed primarily devoted to housing expensive pictures and items.

But what really caught his attention was the centerpiece of the room. A massive red hologlobe was displayed in the center of the room, elevated above the depression. The Commander didn’t know if this was a coincidence or not, but Carmelita summed up his feelings pretty clearly.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” she stated in disbelief.

The Commander then swept the room for enemies. Two sets of four were positioned facing Patricia’s oncoming attack from both sides, some in the depression, some out of it. They were more entrenched than outside, which would have worked well, had he and Carmelita not been behind them. The two balconies on either side also held two soldiers, more snipers using the sniper’s nest equipment from the roof, who began firing at XCOM, who were taking cover behind the nearby walls.

“Let’s go,” the Commander said.

 _“Wait,”_ Patricia interrupted. _“Let me try something.”_

The Commander held up a hand signaling for Carmelita to hold for a minute. He saw Patricia stand up and extend a hand towards the mass of EXALT soldiers. _“Mahakam!”_ She shouted and finished with a twist of her wrist.

The Commander had no clue what she’d said, but the results became clear soon enough. One of the EXALT soldiers suddenly turned to the man she was entrenched behind and opened fire. “Die, traitor!” She yelled and began firing at the other shocked EXALT soldiers.

“She actually did it,” the Commander muttered in amazement.

“Let’s help her out,” Carmelita said, raising her weapon. “Left or right?”

“Left,” the Commander answered. “I’ll clear that balcony.”

She nodded and they both charged into the ornate room. The Commander leapt up on the bridge connecting the balconies, easily clearing the wooden railing and began approaching the oblivious soldiers too preoccupied with XCOM to notice him behind them. The Commander noted with interest that crossed flagstaffs with spear tips hung on the wall, one with the flag of China, the other Russia.

Interesting.

But not relevant at the moment. He fired at the first soldier, the alloy cannon shredding his back and he fell forward with a scream of surprise. The other turned around with a shout as the Commander grabbed one of the flags hanging up and quickly jabbed the end into the man’s throat with lightning speed.

He choked and using the spear tip as a means of control, the Commander forced him to the side, then back, the spear tip still buried in his throat until he was pushed off the edge. The Commander heard the thud, discarded the bloodied flag and leapt over the balcony to ensure he was dead. Once he landed, one look was enough to confirm it. If the fall hadn’t killed him, he’d have bled out soon anyway.

He looked up just in time to observe Myra immolate several more EXALT soldiers as they tried to run away. Not that it did them much good, since the advancing XCOM soldiers shot them in the back with ease. Carmelita had also cleared her balcony, and leapt down to regroup with the rest of them.

Silence fell over the room and the Commander rushed over to join Patricia. “Good work,” he congratulated, noting the corpse of the woman who’d betrayed EXALT. “How did you do it?”

She took a shuddering breath. “I set a trigger. A word that when she heard, she would suddenly realize that her soldiers were traitors and should be killed. I’m not sure how long it would have lasted, but enough for a distraction.”

“Good work, regardless,” the Commander agreed. “Now-whoa!”

Patricia suddenly fell forward and the Commander quickly moved forward to catch her. Creed and Blake also rushed forward and helped steady her. “Take off her helmet,” Blake instructed as they lowered her to the ground.

“I’m fine,” Patricia protested weakly as she lifted her helmet off her. She looked exhausted, her face was flushed and sweaty, the irises were much bigger than they should have been and her breath ragged.

“No, you’re not,” Creed answered. “You pushed yourself too far.”

Which was a going to be a problem. They still have the rest of the building to clear and he was by no means convinced that EXALT was defeated. They were winning, but there was still much to do.

“I agree,” Blake nodded. “Your psionics took a toll. You need a break at the very least.”

“No!” She scowled, and forced herself up. “You _need_ me now!”

“We do,” the Commander nodded. “But preferably alive. And conscious.”

“Wait,” Patricia raised a hand. “Are there any left alive.”

The Commander looked around. “No.”

“Damn it,” Patricia muttered. “Listen, I have an idea,” he waved her hand aimlessly. “Maybe I can….I don’t know, siphon energy from one of them. Just enough to keep me awake.”

Everyone looked at her. “You can do that?” The Commander asked cautiously.

“I don’t know,” she growled, her exhaustion clearly cutting through. “But I’m doing a lot of stuff I didn’t know I could do today. Maybe this won’t work, but I want to try and it’s better than me sitting out.”

“Fine,” the Commander turned to the rest of the soldiers. “We’re going to keep moving down. Lesedi, James and Samuel. Stay with Myra until I give the word. Upon it Myra will cut her way to the next floor. Everyone else, with me! Creed, stay with Patricia. Keep her safe.”

“Understood, Commander,” he nodded and Patricia put her helmet back on and put her arm around Creed for support. The Commander nodded and began moving towards the door marked as a stairway. He and Carmelita set up on each side of the door and opened it, weapons at the ready.

Nothing yet.

They cautiously made their way down the drab concrete stairs, weapons raised for any traps or soldiers. They descended for what seemed like a long ways until they found a door. The Commander and Carmelita once again took positions, but this time the Commander looked at Patricia who seemed a bit more stable now.

“Can you sense anything?” He asked.

“One sec,” she murmured and they waited anxiously for a couple minutes until Patricia slumped forward, forcing Creed to fall to one knee to keep her from keeling over. “Wait for it,” she muttered. “You’ll know when to go in.”

A muffled explosion rocked the floor and the Commander didn’t have time to argue. “Stay with her!” He ordered Creed and kicked open the doors to reveal a wide white lab room. Tables, sensors, glass containers and pods were set up in an organized way and it extended throughout the entire floor.

“Myra, now!” He said and they charged in. The bodies of several EXALT soldiers were thrown against some overturned tables, their bodies ripped as though by a grenade. There were still eight more soldiers who immediately began firing at the approaching XCOM soldiers.

The white room was instantly filled with deadly lasers and projectiles. The Commander found himself by Fakhr who helped him turn over a table for cover. “You still have a rocket left?” He asked as he switched to his laser sniper rifle.

“Yes,” she confirmed as she laid down fire against two Venator EXALT soldiers. “But only one.”

“Take out the right group!” He ordered. “Suppress them!” He yelled as the rest of them. “Rocket towards the right!”

“Understood!” They all yelled and began a barrage of suppressive fire that forced all the soldiers into cover while Fakhr loaded up the rocket and aimed. She stood and aimed. “Firing rocket!” she yelled. “Take cover!”

The Commander knelt back into cover as the weapon roared to life and sped away. He felt and heard the explosion than followed and looked up to see the obliterated bodies of most of the EXALT force. Two had managed to survive; one was gravely wounded, his leg amputated at the knee and the other had managed to get into cover, but was clutching his ears as the concussive blast hit him.

XCOM gear provided protection from aftereffects like that, unfortunate that EXALT didn’t have that luxury. At that same time, a chunk of the ceiling fell in and Myra fell down with a thundering _thud_. She quickly executed the wounded soldier, but the Commander quickly raised a hand before she could administer justice to the remaining one. “Wait! We want him alive.”

She nodded and walked over to him, even as he managed a pitiful attack with his pistol. She reached with her hand and grasped the body, pinning it in place. The Commander nodded to Fakhr. “Get Patricia in here.” She gave a brief nod and rushed off.

The Commander walked over to the pinned man, who was recovering and looking at him hatefully, fury in his brown eyes. “Save your energy,” the Commander advised with a smile. “You’ll need it.”

He just glared at him. The Commander had to respect his courage while being held by a giant humanoid machine. Patricia soon walked in, supported by Creed. She said something to him and he reluctantly let her go and she took a moment to right herself. “This might take a second,” she warned and pulled off her gauntlet and placed her bare hand on the man’s throat.

 _Now_ he started to look worried. “What is she doing?” He hissed, his voice betraying his Russian origins.

“Shh,” Patricia murmured. “ _Quiet_.”

At that the air around her rippled and the man began thrashing as the distortion began to affect him as well. The Commander didn’t know how long it lasted, all of them were entranced and concerned by the spectacle in front of them. After what he could only assume was minutes, the man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he went completely limp.

Patricia let go of his throat and stepped back. “Done,” she said quietly, her voice much stronger. “I guess it worked.”

The Commander looked at the man. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t think so,” Patricia answered as she pulled on her gauntlet. “He’s unconscious now, I think. But I didn’t try to kill him. But I did learn something interesting, there’s only one more floor with EXALT soldiers.”

“Just one?” Creed asked, the frown apparent in his voice.

“Yes,” Patricia confirmed. “They sent most of their soldiers to the first floor. They thought that would be more than enough. The remaining ones are making a last stand below.”

“Excellent,” the Commander nodded. “Myra, return to the roof and prepare for Artifact recovery and any Chinese patrols that come by. Everyone else with me!”

There was a chorus of affirmations and they all rushed to the stairway before raising their weapons again and descending down the final set of stairs. The Commander and Creed took positions on the sides of the door and Patricia stepped in front of it and put her hand on it. Her head bowed, the Commander allowed her time to work.

“There are rooms here,” she said in a trance. “Four groups of three set to ambush us. I can take care of one. Then one lone person in another.”

“Do it,” the Commander ordered. “Be ready!”

Patricia stepped back and a faint explosion reached their ears. The Commander and Creed threw open the doors to reveal an empty hallway. Blake joined his side as they walked forward, weapons raised. A turret suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, but was instantly eradicated by a hail of gauss fire.

The hallways than branched two separate ways, left and right. Commander took the left and Carmelita took the right. The soldiers evenly split up with no words since they just stuck with the side they were already on. Patricia at his side, the Commander slowly kept advancing down the hall. Patricia thrust out an arm, stopping him immediately. “In here, waiting.”

The Commander nodded and he and Creed set up another door breach and with a nod the Commander kicked in the door and unloaded several blasts of the alloy cannon into one surprised soldier. Creed executed the other with several shots to the head while Patricia killed the last one by unloading a sustained barrage into the woman’s chest, ripping it apart.

“Clear!” The Commander called, then stepped back into the hallway.

“There’s someone up in this room,” Patricia murmured as they approached a wooden double door. They repeated the door set-up and kicked in the door to reveal one lone man, sitting alone in an almost empty, bare room that lacked furniture or coverings.

He looked decidedly unimpressed with them. He was older, probably fifty or sixty, wore glasses and a suit with a red tie. Chinese for sure, but his English was impeccable. “So, you made it here,” he inclined his head. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

The Commander motioned the rest of the soldiers to form a semi-circle as he took a closer look around the room. A bit to the right was an interesting setup, glowing posts of some kind, as well as a hanging projector, not dissimilar to the hologram displays in the Citadel. Hmm.

“Who are you?” The Commander asked warily.

“Diguon Mercado,” the man answered. “You’ve earned the right to know that, for what little good it will do you.”

“You’ll do perfectly fine,” the Commander said. “Cooperate and you may not be executed.”

Diguon smirked. “Really, Commander. Your warning, while appreciated, is unnecessary. I will not tell you anything.”

The Commander also smiled under his helmet. He’d heard that one before, and back then it might have been an issue. But now…”Not willingly, no,” the Commander agreed. “Fortunately, we don’t need you to.”

“Will you use her instead?” Diguon asked, standing as he nodded to Patricia. “I’ve watched your assault. And I will not let your soldier exercise her power over me!”

“Back!” Patricia yelled as she raised her weapon. “He has a grenade!”

His body shuddered as dozens of bullets ripped into it and then fell to the floor with a thud. Samuel walked over to the body and knelt down, and gingerly lifted up a hand grenade Diguon had strapped to his belt.

“I’m sorry,” Patricia murmured, letting her arms fall to her sides. “I should have sensed his intentions. I could have stopped him.”

“Not your fault,” the Commander assured her. “We should have guessed he’d rather die than go with us. Come on, we might as well see what this setup here is. And don’t worry, Patricia, he won’t be the only EXALT leader we’ll catch.”

The soldiers began looking at the setup connected to a computer and after a few minutes, Fakhr them waved him over. “I think this is a holographic communications system,”

“Huh,” the Commander said, looking over her shoulder. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“I don’t think it is,” Fakhr shook her head. “But EXALT seems to have something like it. What’s interesting is that there’s a list of outgoing calls. No names or locations, but we might be able to call one of them.”

The Commander smiled. “Set it up. Let’s see who we get.”

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

Saudia and Ethan stood waiting. Ethan was pacing, Saudia was more controlled, though no less concerned. They’d received the signal indicating the Mercado Estate was under attack several hours ago, which had come as a surprise to all of them. That meant that XCOM had bypassed the Chinese and attacked directly.

A risky move that she didn’t think that the Commander of XCOM would have taken. Even if they lost the element of surprise, they wouldn’t have to risk political fallout from the Chinese. But apparently this Commander either didn’t care or had already anticipated it and had a plan to mitigate it. Each one was worrying and she was fortunate she’d elected to remove the critical staff and projects from the Estate early, else this would be much worse.

She’d miscalculated here, not just her either. Diguon had been certain they would hear of an XCOM attack beforehand, and then have a few precious minutes to prepare. But now all they could do was wait and see. Given how much time had passed, Saudia was beginning to suspect that the Estate had fallen. Diguon might be captured or dead, which was the biggest blow since it would take time to find a replacement.

Unfortunately, the Mercado family was probably the worst one to have a sudden vacancy. Their size and split between the Russian and Chinese sides was going to have both of them vying to place their own candidates in place. It unfortunately wasn’t a simple matter of succession either, the inner circle of Mercado advisors ultimately decided after much deliberation.

But they didn’t have time for that now. XCOM had solidified itself into a legitimate threat with this attack, and they couldn’t afford the power plays that would normally follow the death of a family head. In a more peaceful time, she’d have let them sort it out, but now it might be best to demand that she appoint Diguon’s successor.

“The Estate must be lost,” Ethan muttered as he kept pacing. “Not that it really matters. It would have been lost even if they’d won. The Chinese would take it over regardless, but we should have heard _something_ now.”

“I agree,” Saudia sighed. “But-“

The tablet on Ethan’s table began beeping, indicating an incoming message. He rushed over and picked it up. She let him study it a few seconds before asking. “What is it?”

“Security footage,” he answered distractedly as she walked over. “Of the attack. No word from him.”

Saudia looked over his shoulder at the footage and blinked. “What is _that_?”

“It’s….a robot,” Ethan answered, just as confused as her. “I think.”

A robot that towered over the rest of the XCOM soldiers and shrugged off laser and ballistic fire like water. Saudia kept watching as the machine charged toward the front entrance of the Estate and shot cones of flame into the soldiers.

“I suppose this explains the charred bodies we recovered,” Saudia muttered in realization. “This-“

Another beep from the communications computer caught her attention and she rushed over to it and pursed her lips as she read the screen. “Call incoming from the Mercado Estate.”

Ethan put down his tablet and walked over. “I would like to assume the best…”

“But it probably isn’t him,” Saudia finished grimly as she pressed several buttons on the interface. “I’m scrambling our frequency so no one can track this. Step back, I’ll speak to whoever this is alone.”

“It could be the Chinese,” Ethan warned.

“Unlikely,” Saudia answered with a shake of her head. “If XCOM didn’t want to warn the Chinese they were attacking, they’ll definitely not let them test out the communications array. Besides, victors want to gloat.”

“I guess the silver lining is that we’ll get to meet someone high up in XCOM,” Ethan muttered. “Something, at least.”

Saudia initialized the holographic array and a few seconds later the image converged into the figure of an XCOM soldier. He was in a wide stance, his hands clasped behind his back. He was clearly accustomed to being in charge by the looks of it. The armor was silver and thicker than typical XCOM armor, with the emblem in the center chest.

Two weapons were attached to his back, what looked like a sniper rifle and a shotgun variant. She did find it somewhat amusing that even with his armor, she was still taller than him, although just by a hair. His helmet completely hid his face and was armored fully minus the darkened visor where the eyes would be. Both armor and helmet were splattered with drying blood, which didn’t exactly bode well for her soldiers stationed there.

 _“Greetings,”_ he said, inclining his head towards her. His voice was deep, even before the synthesization from his helmet and holographic array. _“I presume you are Director Saudia Vyandar?”_

They’d speculated that the XCOM might learn her name, and it seemed they had. No point denying it, and she doubted it would help them regardless. “I am. Who are you?”

 _“I am the Commander of XCOM,”_ he stated. _“The Mercado Estate is under our control now. Your leader is dead along with your army.”_

Well then, the Commander of XCOM himself had fought. That was interesting. “I don’t suppose you would share more?” she pressed. “Your name, for instance.”

 _“I am under no obligation to divulge that to you, Director,”_ he stated dispassionately. _“You would not recognize it. Our titles will suffice.”_

Her lips curled up. This Commander had a spine, which she had to respect even if it was mildly irritating at the moment. “If you insist, _Commander_. I suppose you have called to gloat; as if this proves your superiority. We anticipated your attack days in advance. You will find nothing of use.”

 _“Interesting,”_ the Commander mused, sounding oddly amused. _“Perhaps that would explain how we were able to decimate your soldiers so easily.”_

She could practically envision Ethan stiffening at that. It was fortunate Zara wasn’t here, otherwise things would have gotten heated. _“But I digress,”_ the Commander continued. _“We might not learn anything about you, but the rest of the world will and it won’t be pretty. Enjoy your last moments of anonymity.”_

Saudia shook her head. “You cannot prove anything. This conversation will not be recorded by a legitimate source; your armor cams can be manipulated and it will become clear you’re only pushing your agenda.”

 _“Do you really think because you collapsed Brazil that you control the world?”_ The Commander asked, cocking his head, not even sounding angry; just inquisitive. _“You know how to use information well. But to use it, you must have it first. To answer your original question, I decided to call for two reasons. One: Because I felt it was time we spoke face to face, no barriers between us. Second: To give you a warning.”_

“I wouldn’t exactly call this face-to-face,” Saudia commented wryly. “One of us doesn’t hide behind a helmet.”

He chuckled. _“I suppose it’s only fair,”_ he said. _“I’ve seen your face. You’ve earned the right to see mine. Not that you’ll recognize me.”_

He reached up and lifted it off his head with an audible _hiss_ and _click._ He lowered it to his side and placed it on a nearby table. He was much younger than she’d assumed for the Commander of XCOM. Maybe a little older, but even then she wasn’t sure. Even through the hologram she could feel the intensity of his gaze, his brown eyes were cold and his face hard. He was definitely a born commander, one who could actually command respect.

She heard Ethan sharply hiss and she glanced over to see him seemingly stunned. His face was whiter than she’d ever seen and his mouth hung partially open. Did he know him? No, she’d worry about that later and returned her attention to the Commander. He’d been right, she didn’t recognize him, but after Elizabeth ran his face through the database, they’d probably find something.

“You said you also had a warning,” Saudia continued, crossing her arms. “Please, enlighten me.”

 _“With pleasure,”_ he said with an unsettling smile. _“The aliens are well aware of the game you’re playing. Did you really think you could use them and they wouldn’t notice?”_

Scare tactics. Did he really think she would fall for them? “I doubt that, Commander. If the aliens suspected we were using them, I doubt they’d be so courteous as to allow us access to their tech.”

 _“You really are arrogant if you actually believe that,”_ the Commander stated with absolute finality. _“Do you really think that a species that has mastered interstellar travel is fooled by your blatant attempt to advance yourselves? You think they lack the intelligence of the lowest intelligence operative? They are using you, plain and simple. By denying it you are playing right into their hand.”_

“These are aliens, not humans,” Saudia corrected dismissively. “They don’t understand us like you do. Yes, this would be blatant to a human group, but as we both know, the aliens aren’t human.”

 _“But they do have brains,”_ the Commander rejected, jabbing a gauntleted finger at her. _“Something that certain humans at this moment appear to lack. Director, I’ve fought these aliens since the beginning. They are more intelligent than you believe.”_

“Insults will not persuade me,” Saudia responded. “I don’t suppose you have proof of this?”

 _“None that you would accept,”_ he answered, pursing his lips. _“But I’m curious, Director, just what your ‘plan’ is. Do you intend to betray the aliens once we’re defeated? How will you possibly gather an army to fight the aliens after destroying the world in the process?”_

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe I will tell you that?”

The Commander lowered his arm and fixed his cold gaze on her. _“No, I do not. But there is enough instability in the world without you adding to it. If I wanted to, I could ensure that your organization is destroyed and forgotten forever.”_

“Now who’s the arrogant one?” Saudia chided. “No, you could not.”

The Commander gave a humorless smile. _“I’ve just taken one of your continental bases, Director. It may take time, but it will happen. You will not be the first organization I’ve destroyed, only one of the largest.”_

“Be very careful how you proceed,” she warned. “Brazil is only a portion of what we can do. Thanks to your… _bold_ attack, I would not be surprised if more nations withdrew from your Council.”

 _“A risk,”_ the Commander acknowledged with a nod. _“But one I feel was worth it. But returning to my original point, as much as I would like to dismantle your organization, I have more important issues to deal with, quite frankly. This current war between us serves no one but the aliens. You clearly plan on betraying the aliens later, so we should not be enemies in this instance.”_

Saudia blinked. “You want a _truce_?” She asked incredulously.

 _“A temporary one, until the aliens are dealt with,”_ the Commander answered. _“I would be wrong not to at least provide the opportunity. In any other circumstance I would hunt your people to extinction, but as it stands I can overlook this as long as you refrain from interfering in XCOM operations.”_

“You may have taken the Mercado Estate,” Saudia said. “But don’t think that you’ve dealt us a serious blow.”

 _“Fine,”_ the Commander growled, stepping toward her, his eyes blazing with anger. _“Then here is what will happen to EXALT, Director. I will dismantle every cell you control, piece by piece, country by country. Everything will be shown to the world, and they will soon be on the hunt for your agents. Will they find everyone? Probably not, but they will eventually.”_

He paused, his eyes never leaving hers. _“Your people will break; first we will start at Solaris Industries and move from there. I will ensure that your world falls around you and at the end, I will find your family and execute them, with you soon after. It will take time, but if you decide to make yourself my enemy, that is what will happen.”_

That speech should have made her laugh, but it was…unsettling. He didn’t speak in a grandstanding way, it didn’t feel like a speech prepared to appeal to her emotions. It instead felt exactly like this was _exactly_ what he was planning to do, punctuated by the pure finality and conviction in his voice. This wasn’t a speech from him, it was a statement of what he was going to _do_.

And she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “I assume this is a threat?” She finally said. Not her best moment but she wanted his reaction.

 _“A statement,”_ he said. _“A warning if you’d prefer it. I’m giving you an opportunity to not only survive, but actually make something out of your decades of meddling. Think it over, Director. Cease your operations against us and we will do the same. Think very carefully about your choice, because after this, there is no turning back for either of us.”_

“You’ve made your point clear,” she answered. “But I think you’re vastly overestimating your influence in the world, much less power to fulfill half the so-called warnings you just gave.”

 _“I’ve done my part,”_ the Commander stated coldly, stepping back and picking up his helmet. _“What happens next is up to you, Director. Until next time.”_ He walked away and the transmission cut off soon afterward.

Saudia pursed her lips. “Admittedly not what I expected,” she muttered. “I can definitely imagine him causing problems with the UN. Perhaps-“

“I think we should think about what he said,” Ethan interrupted in an emotionless voice. “Very carefully.”

She turned in amazement to him. He _still_ looked shaken. Had the conversation upset him that much? “What? You actually believe he can do that?”

“I believe he will do everything he can to cause it,” Ethan said quietly. “And based on past experience, there is a good chance he will succeed.”

“Why?” Saudia demanded, now actually becoming concerned for him. He _never_ talked like this. “Do you know him?”

He gave a sharp nod. “Yes, yes I do. He’s the Commander. _My_ Commander.”

Saudia’s eyes widened as the implications of that dawned on her in disturbing detail. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Ethan whispered. “He’s alive, and we’ve been fighting him this whole time.”

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Humbling River

_Personnel_

Maverick 1 _(Squad Overseer_ ): The Commander

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 9

 

Maverick 1 _(Squad Overseer_ ): Specialist Patricia Trask

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

 

Maverick 2: Specialist Patricia Trask

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

 

Maverick 3: Specialist Carmelita Alba

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

 

Maverick 4: Specialist Anius Creed

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

 

Maverick 5: Specialist Samuel Roche

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

 

Maverick 6: Specialist Marten El-Amin

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 1

 

Maverick 7: Specialist Tayla Rayla

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Maverick 8: Specialist Soran Kakusa

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

 

Maverick 9: Specialist Sarah Liber

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

 

Maverick 10: Specialist Shun Anwei

                **Status:** Wounded (Estimated 10 Days)

 **Kills:** 1

 

Maverick 11: Specialist Blake Harkin

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Maverick 12: Specialist James Nolan

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

 

Maverick 13: Specialist Leonid Naum

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 5

 

Maverick 14: Specialist Veronika Slava

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

 

Maverick 15: Specialist Lesedi Iminathi

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

 

Maverick 16: Specialist Fakhr al Din

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 4

 

Maverick 17: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 12

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Jason Olgard – Call sign: “Big Sky”

Pilot 2: Riley Ignis – Call sign: “Burning Sky”

Pilot 2: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

 

Artifacts Recovered:

-10x EXALT Computers (Wiped)

-40x EXALT Laser Weapons (Moderate Condition)

-10x Crates of Assorted Luxury Items

-1x EXALT captive

-1x EXALT Holographic Communications Array

-1x Cheap EXALT Hologlobe Knockoff

 


	29. Fallout

 

_United States of America, Seattle_

_“In an unexpected move, the international military organization known as XCOM held a press conference early today, offering some clarifications on the organization, which has operated up to this point in secrecy,”_ the commentator said. He tried to suppress and uneasy shuffle as he continued speaking. _“The speaker for XCOM, former NATO General Peter Van Doorn, offered some clarifications on the ultimate purpose of XCOM and the goals they were striving towards.”_

He paused. _“Closing the conference, Van Doorn made a shocking statement that XCOM had just performed an operation against a previously unknown enemy he identified as EXALT within China. He assured everyone present that they would be releasing a certain amount of evidence later today. The Chinese government has currently declined comment.”_

He turned to the woman sitting next to him. _“So, what do you make of this, Amanda?”_

Cerian snorted as the two anchors began talking. “Gee, what do you think? It seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”

“American newscasters are very dramatic,” Olivia noted with amusement as the two commentators droned on. “’The organization cloaked in secrecy,’ give me a break.”

“Oh, don’t act like England is any better,” Mary interrupted from the bed. “Every news station tries to be as dramatic as possible.”

“Hey, Canada is pretty good,” Baston defended. “It’s much better than here.”

“I find it interesting that we’re all discussing the news stations and _not_ that XCOM actually held a press conference,” Cerian noted as he turned the TV off. “Van Doorn was very coy, but I didn’t really expect anything less.”

“Other than XCOM performing an operation in _China_ ,” Olivia commented sarcastically with a wave of her hand. “But no, nothing major.”

“I wonder if they told the Chinese,” Ren commented from the nearby wall. He’d been reading a book during the entire thing, but had apparently picked up on some of it. “I’m not sure they’d really approve, especially if the reason is to attack an apparent myth.”

“Would they really risk the fallout?” Mary asked, not looking up as she typed. “I’m no political scientist, but I’m pretty sure that you don’t want to make China angry at you.”

“This _is_ the Commander,” Cerian reminded them. “I’m not sure he cares what the Chinese think. He’s very… _single-minded_ when it comes to his enemies.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “Good point. I remember that MI6 purposely let America and Russia track down the Commander after the War on Terror was over. It was a long shot, but they didn’t want to deal with him if he ever came this way.”

“But he has to have a plan,” Baston argued as he sat back down on the bed Mary was laying on. “He wouldn’t risk angering the Chinese unless he had a way to mitigate it.”

“Remember that we don’t know for sure one way or another,” Cerian reminded them. “I’ll have to check with Patrick to find out for certain.”

“Did you know Van Doorn was with XCOM?” Ren asked Cerian, putting his book down.

“Yes,” Cerian nodded. “Patrick told me, I believe. He’s not with the UN anymore if you’re curious.”

“Hmm,” Ren frowned. “I didn’t ever think he’d leave it. He seemed to always believe in it even when it was difficult.”

“Did you know him?” Olivia asked curiously.

“I served with him for a few years,” Ren answered with a shrug. “Great guy; something must have really set him off if he left. I wonder what.”

“What about you?” Mary interjected, looking up to Cerian. “You ever meet with Van Doorn?”

“No,” Cerian shook his head. “Never meet the esteemed General. Knew who he was, of course, but our duties were so far apart. I doubt he would have really wanted to meet the UN’s very own assassin.”

“Well, he joined XCOM,” Baston pointed out. “Who knows?”

“Irrelevant now,” Cerian shook his head. “Right, time to get to work. I think a day or two more of observation will be needed since EXALT will probably be on high alert. We’ve got our target marked and we’ll execute the plan in a couple of days and break into the building.”

“This will be fun,” Olivia commented, raising her arms in a stretch. “Everyone out again?”

“Yes,” Cerian confirmed as he stood. “We’ll need everyone today, minus Mary of course.”

“Thanks,” she called sarcastically.

 He smiled and headed for the door, all of his agents behind him. They immediately split up and would all be taking wildly different routes to Solaris Industries. He was taking the car today, so he headed toward the parking lot, got in and began driving to the building. It occurred to him as he drove that the Space Needle was here, an iconic landmark he’d always found interesting visually.

Hmm. Should the operation go smoothly, maybe he could find some time to visit. Actually no, once they were done they’d want to get out as soon as possible. Ah well, barring a sudden alien attack, it would probably still be there whenever he came back. But it was still a shame.

It took him a while to actually get there, and he made sure to park in one of the many parking garages in the city, preferably one none of them had taken before. Perfect, now he’d head to the café he’d unofficially chosen as his lookout point. It was pretty busy this time of day, which made it much easier to blend in. He put in an order to solidify his cover as a customer and went to sit down outside where there were quite a few circular tables with umbrellas over them, all the while the massive building towering over him.

He’d kept track of repeat customers in case any were EXALT, and there really didn’t seem to be any. So either they sent out someone new every day, he was just coming at the wrong times, or they didn’t have any at all. Well, he didn’t notice anything _that_ out of place. The guard in front of Solaris Industries was doubled, which he found interesting, and he noted the guards physically checking IDs of people who came up instead of letting the automated systems scan them.

Yep, they were definitely on high alert. It would probably be at least a half-hour before all of his agents were in position. Still, it would probably be a good idea to warn them of the heightened security.

“Excuse me?” A new voice interrupted.

Cerian looked up to his left to see a much older man, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a faint smile. His white hair was unusually full and despite the wrinkles on his face, seemed to retain a significant amount of health and energy. “Yes?” Cerian asked.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked, motioning to the empty chair beside him. “It appears every other one is taken.”

Huh? Cerian looked around and to his mild surprise noted that the man was correct. Odd. That _never_ happened. Even on the weekend there were still a few places open. He should have moved his chair away, but he was stuck with it now. Worst case, he could leave and come back later when this man was gone.

“Sure,” Cerian answered slowly and neutrally, and the man sat down and set his coffee on the table and turned to look at Solaris Industries as well.

“See anything interesting?” He asked.

Well, it wouldn’t exactly hurt to state the obvious. “Looks like they hired some more guards,” he said, motioning to the entrance. “Wonder what prompted that?”

“A number of things, I’d imagine,” the man commented. “Solaris Industries is a polarizing company, especially based in this state. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve received threats from the more troublesome elements of our society.”

That…was actually something he hadn’t considered. What the man said was true, and had he not firmly believed that Solaris Industries _was_ involved with EXALT in some way, he might have accepted that. “Has that ever happened?” He asked, just to keep the conversation going.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of idiotic things in my lifetime,” he answered, clearly amused. “But I’ve yet to see someone try to attack a _weapons manufacturer_.”

In retrospect, it was probably a dumb question, but he was honestly not concerned about a random conversation with an old man. “Are you a new resident here?” The man asked after a few minutes.

Cerian looked over at him. “No, just visiting.”

“You must really like this shop then,” the man commented with a thin smile. “This is about the fifth straight day you’ve come at various times.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Cerian’s head as he heard that, and began going through his mental notes for _some_ indication he’d seen this man before. “How would you know that?” He asked with a light smile as he thought furiously.

“I come here daily,” he answered. “I just noticed and found it curious.”

He was lying. Cerian couldn’t recall anyone remotely like this man entering, let along staying for a decent period of time. He’d been careful to keep an eye out for agents, and when he spotted extraordinary people, he always made note of them. This man would have definitely qualified. Which likely meant that someone had noticed him and he’d somehow not noticed, and now had sent this man to him for…some reason?

“Do you have something to add to that?” Cerian asked, putting some steel in his voice as he turned to the man across the small table.

“I do, in fact,” the man answered, his smile not wavering. “You would do well to abandon your plan. It will fail.”

Cerian struggled not to react. There was no way anyone could know what they were planning. Even _Patrick_ didn’t know the full extent of the plan. The rooms had been swept for bugs and none of his agents discussed the operation outside with anyone…unless they had and hadn’t told him.

“No,” the man interrupted his train of thought. “Your people did their jobs well. They are loyal.”

 _How the-?_ Was that coincidence? He supposed it must have been and made sense on some level, one of the first things he’d guessed was if someone had talked. But then that raised the question of why he should believe this man just because he said so. Perhaps he could play dumb for not. He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, _what_ are you talking about?”

“’Playing dumb’ will not work on me,” the man said, lacing his fingers together. “But do it if you wish, I simply wish to convey my message and then I’ll leave.”

“How could you possibly know anything?” Cerian demanded. “Even if I have a ‘plan’ as you put it?”

“Because I know everything about you, Cerian Irelan,” the man said coolly, neutrally. “A UN assassin on the hunt for first XCOM, and now EXALT. Your team of Ren, Mary, Darril, Olivia and Baston. A fine group, if I do say so myself.”

Something was _very_ wrong. There was no way he should be able to know _any_ of that. Especially if so, then their operation was as good as busted. But _how_? How had he possibly learned that?

The man tapped his head. “How I know isn’t important, Cerian. Suffice to say I’m giving you a chance you shouldn’t ignore.”

“Enlighten me,” Cerian stated.

“EXALT is not your enemy here,” he explained. “You would do well to focus your efforts on the aliens. Should you continue your operations here, I will ensure you will fail.”

“And we should just ignore the criminal activity just because you said so?” Cerian demanded. “For some reason, I doubt that’ll fly. Certainly not with me.”

“You speak from ignorance,” the man refuted. “While understandable, it is not something that can be easily explained. There are larger threats to humanity than EXALT, which I might add, is _not_ one such threat.”

“I think the United Nations will be the judge of that,” Cerian stated. “And I doubt XCOM would become involved if EXALT didn’t pose _some_ threat.”

“XCOM has been mishandled,” the man stated. “But there were extenuating circumstances in this case. You would do well not to blindly accept whatever XCOM tells the public. You should know better than any that the Commander is no ordinary man.”

“Neither are you, by the sound of it,” Cerian muttered. “So what is this? A warning? Why would your superiors even let you give me one?”

“Because they don’t know,” the man said. “I’m independent of any superiors, and would prefer you not die as a result of misguided justice.”

“And what if we don’t?” Cerian asked quietly.

“Then I will protect EXALT by any means necessary.” He stated in return.

Interesting that he’d said _I_ and not _we_ or _EXALT_. As if this man posed any sort of threat beyond his unsettling knowledge. He doubted this was actually some kind of warning, they were probably planning something or just wanted him scared away. Maybe _because_ they had a chance? No, this needed further thinking and consideration.

“Think very carefully,” the man warned as he stood. “I don’t make this offer often. Farewell, Cerian.”

He walked away, leaving him alone in the seat. He clicked on his earpiece and set it to contact all agents. “Abort mission today and regroup in safe house four. We have a problem.”

***

_The Citadel, Medical Ward_

“She’s resting, but lucid,” Blake informed Soran as he stepped out of the room. “Lucky thing I was there or it would have been much worse.”

“How much worse?” Soran inquired, curious as to how much worse it could get beyond shards of metal sticking out of you.

“Infection, severed nerves, loss of feeling,” Blake ticked off his fingers. “The armor definitely took the brunt of it, but she was still at risk even with the med-kit. At least it wasn’t as bad as Patricia.”

Soran frowned. “What about her?”

“A similar thing happened to her on a mission,” Blake answered as he went to grab a clipboard off the table. “Abby explained it in great detail. Apparently an outsider exploded and sent dozens of crystal shards into her back. She had some choice words to describe that operation.”

Ah, right. Outsiders could do that. They really were versatile beings, ones he still wasn’t sure were organic or synthetic. Or more accurately, natural or created. He’d been leaning more towards _created_ since his arrival to XCOM, no being could perform the feats he’d seen without being improved or designed in some way.

“Anyway, sign here,” Blake said, handing him the clipboard.

Soran sighed and filled out the signature line. “I never understood the necessity of this.”

“Hey, it’s only one form,” Blake chided, still giving a smile. “This is nothing compared to hospitals I worked at before.”

“I suppose,” Soran muttered and handed the clipboard back. “Here.”

“Appreciated,” Blake said with a nod. “Also, did she say anything after I left? I remember she was muttering something I couldn’t understand.”

“She did,” Soran shook his head. “But it was in Chinese, I couldn’t understand it.”

“Unfortunate,” Blake shrugged as he looked at the clipboard. “Well, it was more curiosity than anything. And, ah, I would have preferred you write your name in _English_.”

Soran blinked and looked at what he’d written and frowned. Not a good slip. “Apologies, I can do another one if you like.”

“Not necessary,” Blake dismissed with a sigh. “As long as it’s your name, I can technically accept it,” he took a closer look. “This doesn’t look Japanese.”

“It is,” Soran corrected. “You’re thinking of Chinese. Japanese is more… _flowing_ than you’ve probably seen.”

“Apparently,” Blake muttered. “I guess I always assumed they looked similar. Ah, well. Go in; she’ll probably be happy to see you.”

Probably best to leave now and talk to Shun. Soran nodded farewell to the Chief Medic and opened the door in front of him. He was once again reminded how small these rooms were; there was barely enough room for a small sink, cupboard and bed in the corner. Across from the bed was a TV which was currently off and Shun was propped up on the bed with additional pillows.

She waved lazily as he walked over by her. “Hey, I guess I’m alive.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I appears that way, though Blake sure made a big deal about it.”

“Ah, so that was probably him I heard,” she recalled with a nod. “I wasn’t exactly paying attention."

“Good news is that you should recover with no issues,” Soran said. “The human body is oddly resilient.”

“And strange,” Shun agreed. “But I’m not complaining, though I think I owe Shen more thanks than nature in this case.”

“Well, you’re alive and in one piece,” Soran nodded. “That’s most important.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “So I assume that we won? What happened after I blacked out?”

“The Commander and Carmelita jumped up on the roof and made short work of the snipers,” Soran explained as he recalled. “Patricia took over briefly and finished off the turrets.”

“And after?”

“Patricia led the rest of the squad inside and wiped out the remaining soldiers in the main room,” he continued. “She had me stay to watch over you in case any came back or the Chinese sent a unit.”

“Oh,” she looked surprised. “So that was _you_ , I wondered but wasn’t sure.”

“Yes, it was me,” he assured her. “I thought you were unconscious else I would have talked to you.”

“I think I sort of was,” she added, shaking her head. “Drifting in and out. Did I say anything in that state?”

“Something,” Soran shrugged. “But I couldn’t understand it, sorry.”

“No worries,” she said, her voice oddly neutral. “Anyway, did they catch or find anything?”

“Artifact recovery is still going through the building,” Soran answered, leaning against the bed. “I imagine we’ll know if they find anything soon.”

“And the Chinese?”

“Nothing so far,” Soran shook his head. “Though I doubt they’d talk to me first. The Commander is probably dealing with them, but we’ll see.”

“EXALT will probably want to retaliate soon,” Shun noted after a few seconds. “I guess I should focus on healing up. Maybe I’ll ask for some of those gene mods. They seem useful.”

Soran pursed his lips and decided to risk it. It wasn’t like he was going to get another chance. “Think very carefully before you do, Shun. Genetic modification will have consequences, ones you probably won’t know for a while.”

She looked a bit surprised at the sudden gravity in his voice. “How do you know? I doubt the Commander would have approved them if he wasn’t certain they were safe.”

The thing was, Soran didn’t disagree. The Commander probably _did_ think they were completely safe, otherwise he wouldn’t have been modified himself. “Because h-people are fallible, right now everyone’s ecstatic of what this kind of modification can achieve. But it only takes one mistake, one flaw to bring everything crashing down.”

“You’re probably being paranoid,” Shun chided with a smile. “It’s not like you know it’s going to happen.”

“No,” Soran admitted. “But it very well could.”

He sighed. “Just think it through, ok? There’s no turning back when it comes to this.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I promise I’ll think it through. You happy?”

She was probably just saying it to placate him, but there was little he could do to change her mind. But perhaps she’d remember later. “For now,” he said, giving her a rare smile to show he meant it. “But I’ll let you rest now.”

“Hey, you don’t have to go quite yet,” she protested. “I’m not _that_ weak, and I doubt they’ll call you after you helped take the EXALT base.”

He hesitated. It was only delaying the inevitable, but…he figured he might as well spend some time with his friend before continuing. He wondered how she would feel afterwards. “Oh, fine,” he said lightly. “I’ve got some time.”

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

“So why _Mahakam_?” Creed asked as they sat down.

She didn’t fail to notice Creed look skeptically at her enormous tray of food, holding roughly double what he had on his own tray. Well, the explanation for that was rather simple; she was hungry. Apparently, extensive use of psionics only amplified it. After getting back to the Citadel she’d taken a quick shower and would have probably gone to bed had she actually been tired and Creed hadn’t asked if she wanted to get something to eat.

She’d still been rather energized after the battle, despite the fatigue she could physically feel in her body. Creed’s offer had also reminded her that she was hungry, and since sleep probably wouldn’t be happening, here she was. It also appeared that extensive psionic use also muted her passive abilities for a period afterwards. Right now she could only just sense the people around her, though she could probably still influence people if she really wanted too.

“Because I wanted to use a word that he probably wouldn’t think of randomly, or that someone would accidentally say,” Patricia answered as she began eating her first bowl of beans. “Mahakam was a dwarven city in a book I read a long time ago. I doubted that he would have read it.”

“I didn’t know you read fantasy,” Creed commented as he also began eating. “I honestly wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended at that or not,” she said good-naturedly. “And just what did assume I read?”

Creed paused and looked up contemplatively. “I would have guessed espionage or science fiction. Maybe military.”

“Hey, I like those,” she defended. “Well, sci-fi more so. Espionage and military are sort of hit and miss. But I always loved reading fantasy stuff as a girl and it’s definitely one of the most interesting genres out there.”

“Maybe I just haven’t read the right ones,” Creed shrugged. “I just prefer more modern settings.”

“Let me guess yours now,” Patricia suggested, putting her forearms on the table and leaning forward. “It’s only fair and I’m curious.”

“That is _not_ fair,” Creed pointed out. “You can just read my mind for the answers.”

Patricia snorted. “I’m flattered you think I still have energy to do that. Trust me, I’m not going to read your mind. I can barely sense what you’re feeling.”

“Well, go ahead,” he said.

She thought for a minute. The answers did seem pretty obvious to her. She could reliably eliminate romance and fantasy. Definitely sci-fi, maybe military. Espionage might be, but she wasn’t convinced it was on his list of favorites. Hmm, what else. Mystery? Probably not, he seemed the type who would prefer a straightforward plot than a bunch of unknowns.

“Science fiction and military,” she finally said.

“Oh yeah, I do like those,” Creed answered, smiling. “But it’s not my personal favorite genre.”

Patricia frowned, wondering what she’d forgotten. “Oh? Then what is it?”

“Alternate history,” Creed said. “Stuff like if the Nazis won World War II or the South won the Civil War. I always found that fascinating, how different the world could be if just a few events turned out differently.”

That she could agree with. She was somewhat surprised she hadn’t really… _read_ any books in that genre. “Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever read one of those. You’re right, that sounds really neat.”

“I can make some recommendations,” Creed suggested. “But it’s admittedly a rather small genre. But I hope it gets the popularity it deserves.”

“Well, that’s an extra incentive,” Patricia suggested wryly. “We win the war and you can be the first to write an alternate timeline where the aliens won and then the humans eventual revolt.”

“That sounds suspiciously like the plot of dozen sci-fi novels already,” Creed pointed out dryly. “Ignoring the fact that I’d be a terrible author, I’m not sure that I could add anything that hasn’t been done before.”

Patricia snorted. “We’re practically living in a sci-fi novel already. Besides, this would be based on stuff that actually happened.”

“Tell you what,” Creed said, pointing a fork at her for emphasis. “We win and we’ll discuss my future writing career. Though if I’m going to write anything, I’d probably do your biography.”

Patricia blinked in surprise, and from what she could sense he seemed more or less serious. Albeit his feeling were touched with amusement, so it might not be like she initially thought. “Me?”

“Well, with your permission, of course,” Creed amended. “And you could be executive editor or whatever. But I think people would be interested in the life of Patricia Trask, XCOM soldier, defender of humanity and first human psionic.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, and meant it. Truthfully she’d never thought much about what would happen after the war if they won. But it was very likely that everyone in XCOM would be regarded as heroes and that always came with a set of unexpected consequences; namely interviews, books and probably a dozen more forms of media.

“Or, I suppose you could hire an actual writer who knew what they were doing,” he amended, backing off. “But hey, the offer’s open.”

“Honestly, I’d prefer you write it than someone looking just to get famous off me,” Patricia shook her head. “But I don’t think I deserve more recognition than anyone else.”

“Of course you say that,” Creed chuckled. “ _I’m_ the one supposed to be in the background. You aren’t really, not in XCOM. Everyone knows who you are and respects you, like it or not. The Commander doesn’t just assign anyone to be his second-in-command on missions.”

He did have a point, much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She sighed. “Great. Just what I always wanted.”

“We can move onto a more cheery topic if you want,” Creed suggested. “So, how did you…drain the energy out of that guy?”

She knew he’d meant it in jest, but this was actually a topic she was more comfortable with since she felt she could actually answer it accurately. “I’m not sure I actually did,” Patricia began, wondering how she could explain it. “Instead of… _directly_ draining him, I think that I _flipped_ our states, for lack of a better word.”

At Creed’s confused look she continued. “I think I tricked both his brain and mine, made him think he was exhausted and could barely stand up and made me think I was reenergized.”

“So you’re saying it worked like a placebo?” Creed asked, taking a sip of water.

“Sort of,” Patricia said, biting her lip. “But I don’t know for sure. I wasn’t exactly the most lucid when I tried that. It’ll need more testing. I suppose that if I collapse suddenly, my theory will be correct.”

  “I hope not,” Creed said, concern in his voice and emotions. “With how much you pushed yourself…I don’t think it’s unreasonable to think you could kill yourself at a certain point.”

“I’ll get better at managing it,” Patricia promised. “But I don’t think any of us can afford to hold back now. Whatever it takes.”

“But not at the cost of your life,” Creed warned. “You’re good to no one dead because you felt you needed to push yourself. We need you alive. You didn’t see how bad you looked, I practically dragged you to that man.”

“I know, and I’ll try to get better,” Patricia sighed. “And thanks for that, by the way, but I wasn’t worried about you carrying me.”

“I don’t think you know how heavy you are with that armor,” Creed pointed out humorously. “Not exactly a feather. _I_ would have been worried if I was carrying me.”

“Not this time,” Patricia corrected. “You were very adamant in your mind, that I remember that clearly. You weren’t going to drop me, no matter what happened. It was sweet.”

His tan face flushed slightly at that and he quickly took a sip of water. “Well, I knew you’d yell at me later if I’d dropped you.”

He was trying to wave it off with humor, which she found interesting. But his feelings didn’t lie and she knew what she’d felt then was correct. She’d been fatigued and exhausted at the EXALT base and the world had swam around her and yet she sensed him perfectly at that time, probably because he was a solid mental anchor she could always find as she’d clung to him physically and mentally.   

She was starting to get some suspicions, but respected his privacy to go directly into his mind at this point to confirm them. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either, so decided to let it drop. For now, anyway. They finished eating and Patricia pushed her tray away and yawned. “I think I’m finally tired now; think I’ll get some sleep.”

“Please do,” Creed encouraged as he grabbed his tray. “You deserve it. I’ll probably be in the bunks soon as well.”

She made a move to get her tray but Creed beat her to it and placed it on his own. “I’ve got it,” he assured her. “Get some rest.”

She gave him a tired smile. “Thank you, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Creed likely knew very well that it technically was morning, but for once didn’t reply with a smart comment, simply taking her tray and walking away. Feeling rather good and full, she began walking back towards the barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“Well, we released the ‘recovered’ footage from the Mercado Estate,” Bradford updated them as they all gathered around the holotable. “Aside from some headlines, I haven’t seen much otherwise.”

“They’re probably trying to figure out how to edit it without it being too disturbing,” Shen guessed, crossing his arms. “It’s not exactly family-friendly.”

“As long as they have it,” the Commander interjected. “That’s what matters, and now we can monitor and see which ones decide to cover it in more detail.”

“I don’t think the press liked my flat refusal of answers,” Van Doorn commented as he took a drink of water.

The Commander shook his head and smiled wryly. “Really, what did they expect? We’re clearly not going to reveal our future plans in specifics. But you handled it well, sorry you had to go through it.”

“Believe it or not, they were better than most,” Van Doorn waved off. “I think using two armed and armored XCOM soldiers had a noticeable effect.”

“Well, people are certainly talking about us,” Bradford noted as he lifted his tablet and began scrolling through. “It seems to have been pretty well received, if not wild with speculation.”

“Well, I’d call this a win,” the Commander stated, looking around the holotable. “The Mercado Estate is taken, public approval is rising and EXALT is going to take a massive hit once the information about their ‘experiments’ come to light.”

“And China is noticeably quiet,” Zhang added with a nod. “If they were going to condemn us, they would have done so already.”

That detail was true, but the Commander wasn’t certain that was a good thing. They’d sent the doctored evidence and several of the bodies to Chinese authorities to prove what they’d found was “real,” but hadn’t heard anything from them ever since, positive or negative. There was the possibility that they wanted to avoid embarrassment, but they should have at least contacted XCOM privately.

But that was a minor note on what was a very good day. “The point is that I think we’ve earned a small celebration, if only for a few hours,” the Commander continued, walking over to a table where he’d set a small bag on. “Objections?”

All of them chuckled and shook their heads no and the Commander took out several bottles of wine and beer and set them on the dimmed holotable and headed back over and took another box of glasses and headed back over. “I wasn’t sure what your preferences were, so I just got both. Wine glasses and shots.”

“Huh,” Bradford commented with a raised eyebrow as he picked up one of the bottles. “You really got what we wanted.”

The Commander rolled his eyes as everyone gathered around. “Of course, why would I make a list otherwise. But only one glass or equivalent for everyone; while I’m sure I can trust you to drink responsibly, I’d prefer we were mostly at the tops of our game if something comes up.”

“No fun,” Bradford said with pretend resignation.

“With that stuff you’ve got, Bradford, I think one shot is too much,” Van Doorn commented as he opened a wine bottle. “I will never understand people who like that stuff.”

Bradford smirked as he poured some of the vodka into a small glass. “I would have thought you could handle the hard stuff, Peter.”

Van Doorn sniffed indignantly. “I _can_. I just think it tastes awful.”

“I’ll side with Peter on this,” Vahlen commented as she poured a small amount of red wine into a glass. “No offense, Bradford.”

“None taken,” he answered with a smile as he took a drink. “Zhang, you want some.”

“No,” came the flat reply.

“Two people who don’t drink,” Van Doorn tsked. “What is the world coming to?”

“Careful,” the Commander warned. “Next time they’ll be nothing but vodka.”

Van Doorn visibly shuddered. “Point taken, Commander.”

“Well, before everyone exhausts their one glass, I’ll propose the toast,” Vahlen interrupted, nodding towards him. “To you, Commander, for getting us this far.”

“Copy that,” Bradford agreed and raised his glass, followed soon by all of them. He felt very humbled at that moment, especially since it had definitely not just been him. He may have come up with the major decisions, but without the people before him, it would have never happened. “Thank you,” he accepted inclining his head. “But it’s not just been me. I would never have been able to accomplish this much without all of you. So,” he grabbed an empty glass and raised it. “To XCOM, and our eventual victory over EXALT and the aliens.”

There was a chorus of agreement as they followed suit and with that most of them finished what little was in their glasses and set them back on the holotable. “So, what was your impression of the fabled Director of EXALT?” Vahlen asked curiously.

“Overly confident and arrogant,” the Commander answered, amused. “It might have been an act, but I’m not sure. She’s definitely a leader, but unfortunately one with questionable intelligence.”

“Well, it’s not like we expected them to reasonably agree to a truce,” Van Doorn pointed out. “Much less focus on the aliens. Power comes first for them.”

“Well, they should enjoy it while it lasts,” Zhang said. “I think I’ll take advantage of the momentum and begin assigning agents to look into Solaris Industries. Keep them on the defensive.”

“Good idea,” the Commander agreed. “I doubt EXALT is going to remain quiet long.”

Bradford suddenly reached up to his earpiece and clicked it, and the Commander observed him go from pleased and happy to serious. “Got it,” he said, all business again. “Thanks, Jackson. I’ll let the Commander know.”

“What is it?” The Commander asked.

“The Council,” Bradford answered with a sigh. “They want to talk to you.”

“Wish they could have done it before our little celebration,” the Commander muttered as he turned to set up the screen on the wall. “Ah well, party’s over.”

The good news was that at least the Council had called early enough so that he wouldn’t have to worry about the potential impaired judgement of his Internal Council. One glass probably wasn’t anything to worry about, especially with a team of professionals, but he didn’t want an additional worry beyond what he already had.

Flanked by Van Doorn and Bradford, with Zhang out of the picture and Shen and Vahlen in the background, the Commander accepted the transmission and the screen flashed to once again reveal the Speaker, still cloaked in blue light and shadow.

 _“Hello, Commander,”_ he began, with an inclination of his head.

No follow up comment. Unusual. “You as well, Speaker,” the Commander answered cordially. “I assume the Council has questions regarding our recent capture of the EXALT-held Mercado Estate?”

 _“That is correct, Commander,”_ the Speaker continued neutrally. _“Many questions. The one the Council wishes answered is why you not only failed to inform us of your impending assault, but the Chinese government as well.”_

At least that was an understandable question, if a bit self-explanatory. “Security, Speaker,” the Commander answered smoothly. “EXALT has been confirmed to have infiltrated an unknown number of governments, and we couldn’t risk our operation being compromised before we arrived.”

 _“Do you suspect EXALT plants within the Council itself?”_ The Speaker demanded. _“And if so, do you have proof?”_

“I doubt that there are any within the Council itself,” the Commander answered carefully. “Otherwise the situation would likely be more dire. But I can’t say the same for their aides or subordinates. Had we informed the Council, am I wrong in assuming that the esteemed Chinese Councilor would have contacted his government, and sharing this information with them?”

 _“You are most likely right, Commander,”_ the Speaker conceded. _“But we are together in this endeavor against EXALT and the aliens. This recent attack, with no warning whatsoever, has shaken the faith some councilors have in your willingness to work with the Council.”_

The Commander sighed. “I said I’d work with the Council when it was appropriate and the same with keeping them informed. Informing the Council, or anyone else, would have introduced an unnecessary security risk and possibly compromised the mission.”

 _“And yet, that is not your call to make,”_ the Speaker continued neutrally. _“With any operation, you must let the government of the country know the specifics. That has actually been one regulation you’ve kept well up to this point. But the Chinese Councilor believes that you’ve ignored it as a statement against his country.”_

“It had nothing to do with the fact that it was in China,” the Commander sighed. “I would have done the exact same thing if the Mercado Estate was in Russia, Japan or America. While I have disagreements with the Council, I don’t believe they lack the intelligence to see my point.”

 _“I believe they do,”_ the Speaker said, lacing his fingers together. _“But their issues stem from the fact that this is another incident in a long line of insubordination to the Council. I might remind you that XCOM is still under the United Nations. Your alliances with other nations have not gone unnoticed, and you seem to treat the Council the same way, not as a superior, but as an ally.”_

To his credit, the Speaker didn’t exactly sound _happy_ at the words he was saying, but once again trying to convey what the Council felt. “Because you _are_ an ally,” the Commander stated. “An important one for sure, but one I do rely upon for certain things. In terms of military direction you haven’t ever dictated to me any directions, and that’s how it’s been this entire time. This war is bigger than us or you, humanity will need more than the United Nations to win and that’s why I’m looking beyond the Council. I won’t refuse help or seek it out because of your disapproval.”

 _“While understandable, Commander, the Council would advise you focus on the countries who have supported you from the beginning,”_ the Speaker said. _“Unity is needed, especially now.”_

“And when have I disagreed with that?” The Commander demanded.

 _“By refusing to see why your actions might be deemed troublesome,”_ the Speaker responded. _“And as a result of your actions today, China has withdrawn from the Council.”_

The Commander blinked and resisted the urge to step back in surprise. “ _What_?” He demanded incredulously. “ _Why?”_

 _“They cited your disrespect for the Chinese nation as their main reason,”_ the Speaker explained. _“In addition to your apparent consolidation of power, your apparent attempt to deny them the Dreadnought wreckage and ultimately because they feel that they don’t need XCOM because of their access to the Dreadnought.”_

The Commander stepped forward. “Speaker, we are _winning_ against the aliens and EXALT right now. There is no reason to withdraw outside of a petty grudge. XCOM _saved_ China from that Dreadnought or have they forgotten already? XCOM is _needed_ if we want to win this war.”

 _“While there is no doubt that XCOM will be instrumental, China does not hold the same opinion, Commander,”_ the Speaker continued neutrally. _“I will be frank, Commander. This does not reflect well on your leadership and XCOM as a whole. Several councilors are wondering if you are the right person to lead this initiative. Brazil may have been out of your hands, but China was the direct result of your actions. That cannot be ignored.”_

The Commander took a deep breath. “No, Speaker. This decision was made solely by China. It was not motivated by logic, but by emotions. By their refusal to understand any tactical or military reasoning. I can easily defend my actions without bias, but I would suspect China would fail to do the same. Your arguments might hold weight if XCOM was failing, but that is clearly not the case. EXALT has been crippled, and we’ve recovered evidence of what they were doing. I suspect that the Chinese are embarrassed that such crimes were happening under their watch and think the best move is to ignore it.”

The Commander looked into the Speaker’s silhouetted face. “The Councilors can blame me if they wish, but you and they both know the real reason my _competence_ is called into question, and it _isn’t_ because of my performance.”

The Speaker was silent.

“Convey that to the Council,” the Commander stated coldly. “Our operations will not change. XCOM will continue to do what it’s done since the beginning: defend humanity. Continue blaming if you wish, but remember the ones coming to save you when your cities are under attack.”

He nodded to Bradford. “End it.”

Bradford nodded and the screen flickered off. The Commander turned on his heel and stormed to the holotable. “Idiots. But we can’t dwell on that now.” He jabbed a finger at Bradford. “Look into contacting Mongolia and Taiwan. Zhang, we might need your agents on this one.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Van Doorn asked hesitantly, taken aback by the storm of fury in his voice. “Antagonizing the Chinese more-“

“The Chinese made a political, petty and cowardly decision,” the Commander spat as he cleared the holotable and turned it on, displaying a map of China. “I only held off because I didn’t want to risk China’s relationship with the Council. As they are no longer part of it, I’m under no obligation to take their concerns into consideration.”

“They might respond with force,” Zhang warned, concern on his face. “We should be very careful how we proceed with them. Especially once North Korea gets decided one way or another.”

The Commander looked him coldly in the eye. “That’s what the Hades Contingency is for, no? Nations that attack us or our allies. China will not risk a confrontation with us.”

“You also believed they wouldn’t leave the Council,” Bradford quietly pointed out.

“I did,” the Commander acknowledged. “But they did and now we have to make up for it. If China had wanted us to avoid it, they shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

He motioned to all of them. “Let’s get to work. I want to have solutions within the week.”

***

_The Bastion, Bedroom_

“I thought you said he was dead,” Ethan almost growled as he paced furiously back and forth. Saudia felt it best to let him roam and as a result hadn’t said much since the revelation that Ethan’s Commander and friend was not only alive, but also leading the fight against them.

He wasn’t taking it as bad as he could have been…but he was… _heated_ to say the least. Something she’d hadn’t seen from him in a long time. “I _did_ think she was dead,” she responded, trying to be as calm as possible. “Every agent I had looking into it reported the same thing. You _saw_ the video of him being executed, you really think I wouldn’t have told you if he wasn’t?”

That seemed to break through and he paused and looked down. “No,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t, not with this. So they must have faked it, saving him for when they thought they could use him.”

“I suppose it explains why XCOM’s acted atypically,” Saudia noted. “No wonder there’s tension between XCOM and the Council.”

“Of course there is,” Ethan spat furiously. “They probably thought he would be so grateful for being given a second chance and happily go along with whatever they said. Cowards and hypocrites, all of them. They knew he was needed but condemned him every chance they got. He would never forget, he probably thinks all of us are dead too.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “That’s what the records show, Ethan,” she said quietly. “You officially died almost nine years ago.”

Ethan’s shoulders sank and he was silent for a few seconds. “What happens now?”

Saudia walked up to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “I think I should ask you that question.”

He looked at her, conflict and frustration written plainly on his face. “I’m not leaving, if you’re worried about that. The Commander is wrong this time. You saved me, and EXALT gave me a purpose and a goal to fight for. My life is here now, with you, and I’ll never leave it.”

Saudia couldn’t help but be a little relieved at that. A small part of her had wondered if his loyalty to the Commander would override everything here, including her. That was a part of his life she couldn’t fully understand or grasp the depth of, no matter how much she tried. But she also saw resilience on his face as he said that, and she knew the look. “But what?” She asked.

“I’m going to tell the others,” Ethan said. “They deserve to know.”

Saudia took a breath. She fully understood why he wanted to…but it was a bad idea. “Are you sure you want to?” She warned carefully, walking in front of him to get his full attention. “Learning that they’ve been fighting him…how will they react?”

Ethan looked at her sadly. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I know the problems it will cause, but it seems wrong to hide it. The Commander never lied to us and I’ve done my best to hold myself to the standard.”

“I know, I know,” she whispered, fitting her hands in his own. “But please, hold off for now. At least until we decide what we’re going to do.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “And what are we going to do, Director?”

She was quiet for a few minutes, looking down as she tried to think. For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the best path forward was. In any situation there was usually at least one obvious and clear path that would bring them closer to their goal, or at least achieve the objective.

Yet here…what were the options.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know this time.”

“Then let’s think it through,” Ethan suggested. “It’s not like there are many options.”

That was true. “Is he telling the truth?” Saudia asked.

“About the aliens, his truce, or his threat?” Ethan asked. “Probably all of them. He doesn’t lie, Saudia, not about this, and especially not when addressing his enemies directly.”

“You really believe he would follow through if he knew you were my husband?” Saudia asked.

Ethan hesitated. “He would likely consider me a traitor, so yes, he would follow through easily if he felt he was justified. You know what he did to Farida, so he would definitely follow through even if he killed me himself.”

Saudia remembered very well the story Ethan told about the Commander dealing with his wife, but had irrationally hoped it wouldn’t extend beyond that. And despite herself, she was somewhat worried. It was irrational, but the Commander was unlike any person she’d watched in a war. She was in probably the safest place in the world, but he’d shown a remarkable tendency to persevere and conquer incredible odds. She wouldn’t put it past him to look at the considerable defenses of the Bastion and only consider it as just another obstacle.

“And the aliens?” She said. “You think we’ve been underestimating them?”

He let go of her hands and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. “I think we’ve been lying to ourselves about this whole arrangement with the aliens. I thought it was just me since you didn’t say anything, but I really don’t think so anymore.”

Saudia walked over to the bed as well and sat down beside him. “Go on,”

“I think these aliens aren’t idiots,” Ethan continued. “They’re taking advantage of us, and they know they have control, especially judging by how easily they’ve taken the Furies. At this point we’re so transparent about our goals there’s no way they can’t see it.”

“The problem is that we don’t have enough,” Saudia said, shaking her head. “Once we do then we can break off, but if we stop now we’ll have weakened ourselves for nothing.”

“And if we _don’t_ the aliens may just decide to take over directly,” Ethan countered. “Do you really want to risk everything for the sake of some artifacts?”

“All we need is a few months,” Saudia insisted. “By then we should have enough and can begin-“

“Stop thinking that the plan hasn’t changed,” Ethan snapped suddenly. “We can’t keep going on like nothing has happened. If we keep going forward not only are we going to have the aliens hell-bent on killing us, but the Commander as well. We need to rethink _everything_?”

“How?” Saudia demanded, waving her hand towards the window. “Do we just go into hiding again and wait for it to blow over? Hope that the aliens and XCOM forget us?”

“No,” Ethan shook his head. “We need to take action. Now, before it’s too late. The Commander wasn’t lying when he said he’d accept a truce, we leave him alone and we won’t have to deal with XCOM. We need to consolidate our forces. Gather our soldiers, retake the Furies and make new psionics. We have to get ready to go to war with the aliens.”

Saudia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Even if the Commander decides to agree to a truce, I doubt the UN or Council will really like that.”

“Perhaps he would if I talked to him,” Ethan suggested. “He’ll listen to me.”

That might not be a bad idea. At the very least it would cause the Commander to stop and think about attacking, knowing he’d be fighting his old soldiers. Although he might ultimately decide that they were traitors and proceed anyway. But it probably couldn’t hurt. “Perhaps. But this can’t be a decision made unilaterally. We need to hold a meeting with everyone, to decide what to do about the aliens and the Commander.”

Ethan sighed. “I suppose that’s best. But I want to be there. I can answer whatever questions they have.”

Saudia hesitated. “But how accurate would that be? Truthfully? You’ve changed since we rescued you, how do you know he hasn’t?”

“I don’t,” Ethan admitted. “But if that conversation was anything to go by, he hasn’t changed that much.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Saudia promised. “But I have to know now…if we decide to continue against XCOM, will you do it?”

He was silent for a minute. “Yes Saudia,” he said quietly, his voice close to breaking. “I will. If I must.”

She took his closest hand in her own. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly, sincerely. “I promise I’ll ensure you have a say in the final decision.”

Ethan gave her hand a squeeze and sighed. “I suppose I better talk with Elizabeth and Zara. Assuming his tactics haven’t changed, and based on our previous encounters they haven’t, I know how he likes to operate and might be able to help prevent infiltration. At least until we make a decision one way or another.”

“It’ll be soon,” Saudia promised. “I promise you that.”

“I’ll hold off telling the rest he’s alive,” Ethan said. “But only until we know the plan.”

Saudia pushed herself off the bed. “I suppose we’d better get started. There’s a lot to do.”

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Soran wondered if this was what martyrs felt like.

People who believed what they were doing was the right thing, but were resigned to the fact that they were most likely not going to survive. He supposed the question for him was _if_ he doing the right thing?

He didn’t know for sure, but he knew that they didn’t deserve what was coming. The men and women he’d fought beside weren’t what he’d expected, and as a result had ultimately influenced him into this decision.

With each step he took he knew how easy it would be to just turn around, continue on with life as if nothing would happen, pretending everything was real and this was his fight. But no, he’d made his choice when he’d prevented an issue with Shun, when he warned the Commander about Patricia, and when he saved Samuel from the rocket.

All of those he could have passively observed, washing himself of any suspicion or guilt. But he hadn’t and it had only become more apparent as time went on that he wasn’t on the right side. He wasn’t convinced XCOM was the best alternative, but he knew he wouldn’t continue on like this, pretending to be something he wasn’t. Not anymore.

He reached the door to the Commander’s office and waited. Knowing him, it wouldn’t be long. Everything hinged on what the Commander did, Soran was taking a massive gamble which might very well end with his execution.

Yet the Commander had struck him as reasonable, and every interaction since then had backed it up. It was worth the risk in this case, although it wasn’t as though he had much choice now. But time was running out for all of them and it was now or never for him. The taking of the Mercado Estate was a turning point for _everyone_. He _knew_ it.

But everything would change in the next few minutes.

The door slid open and Soran walked into the office. The Commander looked slightly more stressed than before, and was fully focused on his screen for a few seconds before looking up and directing his full attention to him. “Ah, Soran. Good to see you.”

Soran inclined his head. “You as well, Commander,”

Hands at his sides, Soran kept quiet as the Commander obviously waited for him to elaborate. A minute stretched into two and the Commander finally frowned. “Is there something you need, Soran? Why are you here?”

Soran took a deep breath. “Yes, Commander. I’m here to turn myself in.”

The extent of the Commander’s surprise was several blinks and him standing to look him in the eye. Soran also didn’t fail to note his hand resting on the gauss pistol on his hip. “I think you should explain. If you’re turning yourself in, then who are you?”

“It will be easier to show you,” Soran answered and slowly withdrew one of the knives strapped to his chest. Lips twitching, he placed the tip on the crook of his elbow. The Shapers had wisely noted well beforehand that his blood would pose an issue should he be wounded in combat, and to compensate had hardened his skin to resist deep scrapes or scratches. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, laser or plasma, but it would prevent him from revealing himself accidentally by a paper cut.

But the skin on the elbow was the weakest, and Soran knew he could make a small incision with enough pressure. He hissed lightly as the blade pierced his skin and a small dot of golden blood trickled out. He looked up at the Commander, who, for the first time Soran had observed, actually looked surprised, eyes wide at his bleeding arm.

“I’m one of them, Commander,” Soran stated quietly, letting the knife drop to the floor with a thud. “I’m an alien.”


	30. "Why We Are Here"

 

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

Human and alien stared at each other, neither moving nor blinking.

The Commander’s hand had unconsciously went to his hip where his gauss pistol was holstered securely in his belt, but he instinctively knew he wouldn’t need it. His life was not in danger, not now. He suspected that if “Soran” had wanted to kill him, he would have done it already and _certainly_ wouldn’t have come to turn himself in.

In retrospect, he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting after Soran’s reveal. He kept looking at him as if he was expecting some sudden change. But nothing. Aside from the thin trail of drying yellow blood on his arm, Soran looked exactly the same as he had for these past months.

Perfectly human.

At least on the outside.

The Commander had only been legitimately surprised a few times in his life. This was, unfortunately, one such time.

It wasn’t that Soran was a spy. He’d been identified by Zhang as a potential leak soon after he’d ordered the investigation, but the surprise was that Soran was an _alien_. EXALT, the Council, Japanese, at least _those_ explanations made sense on some level, and could be considered seriously. They hadn’t noticed the aliens making large strides in human mimicry, so he’d assume that they couldn’t legitimately make a human doppelganger without them noticing well beforehand.

That assumption had not only almost cost him his life, but XCOM’s very existence.

Ignoring the fact that Soran had somehow managed to fool everyone in XCOM, including the medical professionals and the Japanese military officers who’d sent him here in the first place, this was a disturbing reminder of just how advanced the aliens were. If they could make a human mimic as realistic as Soran, there were certainly more out there.

Had Soran been identified as a traitor, there were very clear guidelines about what to do next. Yet he realized now that when writing the Janus Contingency that he’d never added in or considered possible defectors or traitors. Which now seriously complicated matters. Soran had probably been the cause of some serious leaks, and the aliens probably knew the extent of their tech thanks to him.

But that didn’t erase the fact that he was turning himself in now. That _had_ to be taken into consideration. In almost any situation there was always at least one path that seemed clear and right to him. Justified, at the very least. But here…he didn’t know what the right thing to do was.

Could Soran be considered a traitor if he’d never been on their side to begin with? He was a spy for certain, but a traitor? That he wasn’t sure now. There was a clear difference between those two words. Spies he could respect for the most part, even if he loathed when they were used against him. They were doing a job, and like any professional, were expected to do it well. The fact that Soran had gone almost unnoticed spoke to his skill, and had he not come forward, he’d have probably never seen him coming.

Traitors were different. They were people who legitimately turned for multiple reasons, be they money, power, ideology or love. Very rarely had the Commander ever found reason to respect a traitor’s decision, but at the very least he had no qualms about punishing them. Caught spies were also straightforward.

No, the fact that Soran appeared to fall into the “spy” category wasn’t the issue. The issue was that he had turned himself in. He couldn’t be treated as simply a caught spy, and if he _did_ cooperate….a tricky situation all around.

The Commander had been careful to not let his true feelings show too much on his face, but Soran had probably picked up on his initial surprise. If he was one of the thin men, his vision had likely been enhanced as well. Now that his secret was out, the Commander did notice a change in Soran’s demeanor.

It was subtle, but he didn’t seem like the calm soldier he’d talked to over the past few months. Now Soran’s face had an intensity to it, not that of a subordinate soldier, but that of an equal. He stood straight and tall as he looked the Commander in the eye, unblinking.

The Commander slowly let his hand fall from the pistol and Soran inclined his head. “Astute observation, Commander. You’re right. If I was going to kill you, it would have happened.” His voice was the same, but there was an air of assurance around it, as well as a faint rasp that the alien must have hidden for months.

“And I suppose I wouldn’t be a surprise to ask why that _didn’t_ happen?” The Commander replied evenly.

“I had my orders, Commander,” Soran answered calmly. “None of which ordered your execution.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “But you did have a plan.”

Soran’s expression didn’t change. “Of course I had a plan. Would you expect me not to?”

“Perhaps,” the Commander acknowledged. “But I suspect that you didn’t have orders to reveal yourself.”

Soran’s lips twitched. “What an observation. How could you have figured _that_ out? Joking aside, Commander, no, I didn’t.”

“Then why?”

Soran took a visible breath. “I would prefer to have to answer all your inevitable questions once. No doubt Vahlen will ask the same ones and you’d likely want to have Patricia nearby as well so she can determine if I’m lying or not.”

“So you will cooperate?” the Commander confirmed. “You will answer _everything_?”

“I will answer what I know,” Soran answered. “Which is admittedly substantial. I can tell you the answers to some questions you’ve probably asked, namely why we’re here and who our leaders are. I can’t guarantee answers to everything, but I hope what I _can_ provide will grant some consideration before you decide to execute me or not.”

“We’ll see,” the Commander warned as he moved to press the intercom. “I haven’t decided one way or another yet.”

“As I suspected,” Soran inclined his head. “You’ve shown that you are reasonable. I suppose I’ll soon see how accurate that is.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I am reasonable up to a point, Soran. I’m generally not inclined to be sympathetic to spies, especially those who’ve worked to conquer my world and species.”

“An understandable reason,” Soran agreed. “But as you know very well, not everything is what it seems. We are not all what you believe us to be.”

The Commander held his gaze. “I’ll determine the truthfulness of that later, but for now I’m going to have you taken to alien containment.”

“The glass prison,” Soran mused. “I suppose it would be expected that it is where I would go.”

“You are an alien,” the Commander stated bluntly. “You must be contained until we can ensure it’s secure.”

Soran nodded his head towards the intercom. “Then I’d prefer to get it over with.”

The Commander nodded and pressed the intercom. “Central,”

_“Yes, Commander?”_

“Gather the Internal Council and order Patricia, Creed and Carmelita to suit up and come to my office.”

Bradford was clearly confused. _“Will do, but why?”_

“Because our mole just turned himself in,” the Commander answered grimly. “An alien to be specific.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end. _“Who?”_ Bradford demanded incredulously after a lengthy pause.

“The one calling himself Soran Kakusa,” the Commander said, maintaining eye contact with the unflinching alien. “I want him in alien containment soon. Have Vahlen tell her people to prepare the chamber for interrogation.”

There was silence at the end for a few seconds. _“Done, Commander. Heading up now.”_

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Patricia’s eyes snapped open and she took a few seconds to force her brain to wake up before throwing her blanket off and sitting upright on the bed.

That was odd.

It normally took her several minutes to get up if it was a regular night of sleep or not mission-critical. Yet now she felt fully awake and she wondered what had prompted this.

Something had happened.

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling that was quickly fading. The rest of the base was mostly asleep or resting, and emotions weren’t exactly running high. But there was no mistaking what she felt; _surprise, danger_ and oddly… _relief_ all rolled in one sequence.

 _Whose_ emotions she couldn’t quite determine since the feelings had been clamped down or reduced to the point she could no longer sense them. Perhaps if she tried, but at the moment she didn’t exactly feel the urge to. It probably wasn’t important. If it was, she’d likely know about it. She deliberately began taking deep breaths and attempted to slow her heartbeat which had unintentionally risen since she’d woken up.

The mass of still, sleeping and quiet minds around her helped greatly and she focused on their calming presence. Random flashes and images appeared in her mind as she did so, a likely byproduct of her opening herself up to the many people around her. She didn’t have context for any of them, but that wasn’t something she needed. They appeared in her head and she let them go almost as quickly.

A couple minutes later she was back to normal and was considering if she should attempt to go back to sleep or start her day a few hours early when her wristband vibrated. She suddenly went cold and goosebumps broke out on her skin as the vibrations crawled up and down her arm.

What if what had happened _was_ important?

She immediately stood and moved to her locker and began pulling on her armor. She felt a couple more people begin waking up, Creed and Carmelita. Both were almost instantly alert, not much of a surprise and she now heard them walking over.

“I didn’t realize you were this fast,” Creed commented under his breath as he began putting on his own armor. “I only felt it a minute ago.”

Patricia lifted her chest armor over her head and lowered it slowly onto her chest. “I was already awake.”

Carmelita looked over at her as she pulled on her boots. “Right before this happened?”

She was smart, Carmelita. “Yes,” Patricia confirmed as she pulled on her gauntlets. “ _Something_ woke me up. It wasn’t normal. I didn’t think it was important, but now I guess it might be connected.”

“Was it bad?” Creed asked.

Patricia thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she admitted slowly as she reached for her helmet. “Someone was surprised and relieved. But there was also a clear sense of danger. But all of those faded pretty quickly.”

Carmelita strapped on her twin blades and quickly drew them to make sure they were sufficient. Satisfied she put on her own helmet. “I suggest we see what’s going on.”

Determined and cold, that was how Carmelita felt to her right now. Creed was almost the same, but less intense; more curious than anything. As well as concerned, which she suspected was aimed towards her. She wanted to reassure him, since he sometimes had the idea that her psionics were more of an issue for her than they actually were. But she didn’t want to make things…well, awkward, with Carmelita around.

Although she did have an idea. She put her helmet on and as the HUD initialized, gently placed her arm on Creed for a couple seconds, pushing one simple emotion and phrase that she hoped would resonate enough that he got the message.

_I’m ok._

She withdrew her hand and reached for her gauss cannon. Creed had his helmet on now and was looking at her wordlessly, likely trying to figure out if it was her or not. She gave a quick nod, which would mean nothing unless someone was looking for it. Carmelita had her alloy cannon in hand and Creed quickly grabbed his own gauss rifle.

 _“Specialists Trask, Alba and Creed, report to the Commander’s Office immediately,”_ Bradford ordered through their helmets and they immediately made for the exit. Conscious of the still-sleeping soldier, Patricia locked down her vocoders so no one could hear.

“Copy, on our way,” she answered. “What’s the situation?”

 _“You’re needed for escorting a spy to alien containment,”_ Bradford answered, and now she suddenly noticed the tightness in his voice that barely hid the shaking it would have otherwise had. _“Patricia will be needed once the interrogation begins.”_

“A _spy_?” Carmelita demanded incredulously while all of them increased their pace to a jog. “ _How_?”

 _“That is what we need to find out,”_ Bradford responded. _“I’ll be meeting you there and the Commander will provide further orders.”_

The line clicked off. “We should have asked who it was,” Creed muttered under his breath. “And how they were caught.”

Patricia shook her head, feeling the conflicting emotions of shock, relief and puzzlement from both of them, herself included. “I thought the Citadel was immune to infiltration. _I_ don’t even know where we are and all the personnel are screened beforehand.”

“No place is immune to infiltration,” Carmelita stated coldly. “You can make it difficult, but as long as someone has the means, money and determination, it _can_ be done. I suspect EXALT is responsible for the mole.”

“Then why would we take him to alien containment?” Creed questioned. “Why not the cells?”

“He could be enhanced?” Carmelita suggested. “It’s not unreasonable, and the cells might not hold him as well. The only other explanation is that the aliens somehow made a passable thin man, and by now we’d have probably noticed.”

Patricia wasn’t sure which was worse. An alien or human traitor. Either way they had to answer for what they’d done. A couple minutes later they arrived at the Commander’s Office. She immediately felt the familiar coldness and dispassion of the Commander, perfectly controlled as always. As well as Soran, surprisingly. It was much harder to get a read on him for some reason, but he was unique enough for her to remember.

The doors slid open and she saw the Commander in front of his desk and Soran standing off to the side. Why was he here? Had he been called as well? Although if that was the case, then why wasn’t he wearing his armor?

“We’re here for the spy, as requested,” Carmelita stated, after saluting the Commander. “Where is he?”

The Commander pursed his lips and nodded to Soran who took a step forward. “That would be me, Carmelita,” he said calmly. “You’re here to escort me to alien containment.”

His words didn’t register at first, not to her or anyone else from the looks of it. Patricia blinked under her helmet, not comprehending at first. Was he saying….was he…?

“…You?” Carmelita said, her voice colored with shock in a rare moment of pure emotion. “You’re…”

“Correct,” he finished calmly. “An alien.”

Shock, surprise and conflict were rolling off both Carmelita and Creed, and echoed by her since she felt exactly the same. He….he was an _alien_? This whole _time_?

And she hadn’t sensed _anything_?

Creed took the initiative, pushing through the shock and not letting it affect him or his voice. “Hands behind your back, _Soran_ , or whatever your name is,” he ordered, the harshness in his voice amplified, even to her. Soran nodded calmly and complied while Creed snapped the binders on him.

Patricia turned to the Commander. “How did you know…?” She trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

The Commander cast a sidelong look at the now cuffed Soran, who looked exactly the same as the months they served and fought side-by-side. All that was just an act? He’d been using them this whole time? “He told me,” the Commander finally said quietly. “He just walked in and told me.”

Patricia’s head snapped back to him at that, a new storm of emotions vying in her. She wasn’t sure what she was more surprised at; that Soran had turned himself in voluntarily or that the Commander had seemingly not suspected him either. “Why?” She asked, her voice torn between confusion, curiosity and helplessness.

The Commander took a breath. “That is what I want to find out.”

Patricia looked back at Carmelita and Creed who were escorting Soran out, one hand each on his arms. Carmelita also had her free hand clutching one of her blades and Creed had his resting on his holstered pistol. “I’ll need you there,” he continued, prompting her to look back at him. “He’s promised to comply with my questioning, but I want to be sure.”

Patricia nodded. “You can count on me,”

His lips twitched. “Go down with them, help them set up alien containment,” he turned to the table. “I’ll be down shortly. There are some issues that need to be cleared up first.”

She was more than happy to salute and back away. She did _not_ want to be in the same room when the Commander informed everyone what had happened. A security breach like this was unacceptable and both Zhang and Bradford were likely going to have to answer for it somehow. To her knowledge the Commander had never lost his control or temper. But there was a first time for everything.

And if this was the time, she wanted to be far away when it happened.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

The Commander deliberately let the uncomfortable silence stretch over a period of several minutes as everyone, including himself, gradually became more and more uneasy. Shen and Van Doorn looked downright unnerved, Bradford and Zhang looked more embarrassed than anything, although Zhang would look perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t know him.

Oddly enough, Vahlen looked more intrigued than anything. Actually no, that was _exactly_ what he anticipated her reaction would be. Ignoring the massive security breach here, this alien was hopefully going to shed some light on the alien’s secrets, history, tech…no wonder Vahlen was more focused on that, but even she was not enjoying the current tension in the air.

“So,” the Commander finally said, looking each one of them hard in the eye. “Do any of you have an explanation as to how a fucking _alien_ managed to infiltrate us without _anyone_ noticing?”

He deliberately kept his voice calm, but still several of them winced at the sheer harshness and anger in his voice. And he _was_ angry…but contrary to what they probably thought, this was one instance where multiple people were at fault. Yelling at them would serve no purpose, but action needed to be taken here to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. Because he suspected that the outcome wouldn’t be nearly as…well, _good_ , if the aliens managed to infiltrate them again.

Bradford opened and closed his mouth several times, before just shaking his head. “I made a mistake, Commander. Everything appeared to be in order, but I have no excuse here.”

“I concur,” Zhang agreed with a firm nod. “We failed here, and it could have cost your life.”

“Yes, it certainly could have,” the Commander agreed with a pointed stare. “And not just that, but probably XCOM as well,” he paused for a moment and sighed. “However, I share some of the blame as well. I’ve interacted with him the most and should have picked up on something. We three share blame here, let’s accept that and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Clear?”

Bradford nodded in relief. “Completely, Commander.”

The Commander leaned back against the holotable. “So everything was in order?”

“Yes,” Bradford tapped on his tablet. “I have all the papers here. We know now that they must have been forged, but they are identical to real ones. All his medical history is likewise included and signed off on by verified doctors.”

“So that tells us the aliens can forge authentic documents,” Van Doorn noted. “That will make future verification…difficult.”

“Not necessarily forged,” Zhang amended with a glance towards Van Doorn. “It’s not unreasonable to assume that there _was_ a Soran Kakusa and he was either removed or killed. Using an already living soldier would be much easier than creating a new one.”

The Commander nodded. “True, but I know of at least one way we can verify our soldiers are human.”

“Blood and DNA tests,” Vahlen suggested brightly. “The aliens cannot change those, no matter how similar their infiltrators look on the outside.”

“Exactly,” the Commander nodded, happy that she’d picked up on it so quickly. It wasn’t _that_ much of a revelation, but it would at least let them know if they had more aliens in their ranks.

“It might be a good idea to establish an off-site location for this testing,” Bradford suggested. “I assume we’d want to oversee it ourselves and if we _do_ find an alien…at least the Citadel isn’t compromised.”

“Assuming it isn’t already,” Shen interrupted. “Do you think Soran wouldn’t have given the location to the aliens?”

“Probably if he knew where it was,” Zhang agreed. “But there is no indication he does, and all the networks are heavily monitored.”

“No offense, Bradford,” Van Doorn interrupted, shaking his head. “But I don’t think we can assume that your ‘heavily monitored’ networks worked. He’s an alien, which means he may have means we don’t know about.”

“I suppose that will be a question to ask,” the Commander muttered.

“Did he say why?” Shen asked.

“Why he turned himself in?” The Commander answered, raising an eyebrow. “Not yet. He didn’t want to repeat himself, so he says. But I am curious what his motivations could be.”

“We have to consider the possibility that this is an act,” Zhang pointed out. “He’s put himself in a prime position to gain your trust, especially if he cooperates. But if he’s lying…”

“I doubt it,” the Commander shook his head, becoming more certain of his conclusion. “He had no good reason to reveal himself if that was the case. He knows Patricia is a psionic and that I won’t exactly be lenient. He could have continued on, and barring an unexpected event, I’d have never known.”

“You _did_ say that Patricia sensed something off about him,” Zhang recalled. “Patricia might be rendered unreliable if he can influence her perception of him.”

“Patricia only got that from surface emotions,” Vahlen pointed out. “Not a full mind read. If she can’t do that, then that argument would hold more weight. As it stands now, that’s not the case.”

“But that does bring up a good point,” Shen said. “Should he cooperate…what _are_ we going to do with him?”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I don’t know.”

Everyone was silent. “He’s been working against us,” Van Doorn stated. “That can’t be forgotten.”

“It won’t,” the Commander assured him immediately. “But I want to know the extent of what he’s done; what his motivations are and what he can provide us before reaching a decision.”

“Probably the best move,” Bradford sighed. “Who do you want with you?”

“No one,” the Commander shook his head. “I’ll conduct the interrogation myself. I’ll have an earpiece so all of you and Patricia can communicate.”

“I suppose you’re not worried about him attacking?” Van Doorn noted rhetorically.

The Commander shrugged. “No, I’m not. If he’d wanted to kill me, he’d have done it before now. Besides, I’m enhanced and armed. I can take one alien.”

“What of the soldiers?” Bradford asked with a frown. “Do you want to suppress this?”

“It would be pointless and a lie,” the Commander shook his head. “No, but don’t promote it unless asked. This will shake morale, so I want to assure everyone that there are no more alien infiltrators. I want blood and DNA tests started _now_.”

“I’ll begin setting it up,” Bradford promised. “Vahlen, I’ll need your help with that.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “But I want to observe the interrogation. This alien could answer questions we’ve wondered since the beginning!”

“Good to see you’re so enthused,” Zhang muttered. “Since this appears to be our mole, do you want me to cease operations observing XCOM personnel?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “EXALT is still a threat, and if the aliens managed to get in, it’s possible EXALT did as well. But it’s no longer a top priority.”

“Understood,” Zhang nodded.

“Right,” the Commander took a breath as he mentally organized his list of questions and plans. “Let’s see what Soran has to say.”

***

_The Citadel, Alien Containment_

The alien containment module had been set up much like a traditional interrogation room. Two opposing chairs and one table separating the two. Soran sat at one side, looking remarkably calm even though he knew that many people were watching him. The glass that surrounded the module was one-way, so he couldn’t see exactly who was watching him.

But he’d been in XCOM long enough to know how the module worked. It was elevated slightly off the ground and build like a cylinder and had a very limited amount of room. It was really only suitable for interrogating specimens who were going to be disposed of soon after and wasn’t appropriate for any sort of long-term incarceration. Should the Commander decide not to execute him, he’d likely be moved to a regular cell.

Right now the alien containment room was empty, save for Patricia and the Internal Council. Vahlen was monitoring the module itself and the rest were just watching the immobile human doppelganger. His gauss pistol strapped to his waist, the Commander nodded at Bradford. “Open it.”

He nodded and the Commander walked up the small stairway behind the module where a door led inside. The hatch lifted with a soft hiss and he stepped inside the white room. The one-way glass was a bit disconcerting at first, but he quickly blocked that out and took a seat opposite Soran. The alien’s hands were resting on the table, clasped together.

The Commander hadn’t seen the need to keep him bound, so he had ordered them removed when put in the cell. All it would serve was to make Soran uncomfortable, and he clearly didn’t pose a threat. Upon appraising Soran now, the Commander _did_ finally note something unusual about how he acted now.

He didn’t blink.

He just stared at him with his otherwise human eyes, without looking away once. The Commander didn’t know if he’d been doing this and he hadn’t noticed…no, he’d blinked some, he would have at least noted if it were otherwise. But now he supposed that Soran didn’t see the need to imitate that human function anymore.

The Commander let a few seconds of silence pass before talking. His earpiece was in and on, but he’d explicitly told them not to feed questions until he was finished. Only Patricia had orders to update him if anything was off.

“Who are you?” The Commander finally asked.

Soran’s lips twitched. “Zar’nartha’intha, of the Vitakara Zararch. None of that is pronounced correctly, either. I’ve found that human biology renders the correct pronunciation of my language impossible. Since I was designed to be essentially human, that applies to me now as well.”

Hmm. The Commander wasn’t sure he wanted to pronounce that multiple times, so for now he still stuck with labeling the alien “Soran” in his head until it was clarified. “Is the, ah, _Vitakara Zararch_ your species?”

“Yes and no,” he clarified, shook his head. “My species is called the Vitakara. I am part of the Zararch…our…intelligence branch, to put it in terms you understand.”

That seemed straightforward. Though “in terms you understand” indicated that it might be different than he was thinking. But that could be answered later. “I see. Your name is quite long, so I might as well ask what you’d like to be addressed as.”

“The only unique part of my name is Nartha,” he answered with a shrug. “Call me that if you wish. Soran will suffice as well, since I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I suppose that leads to my next question,” the Commander said, resting his hands on the table. “Does Soran Kakusa exist?”

“I do not know,” he answered with a brief shake of his head. “That was not disclosed to me after I received my persona. But I can say for certain that if Soran Kakusa _did_ exist, then he is dead. The Zar’Chon would not have risked keeping him alive.”

“And who is that?”

“The…overseer of the Zararch,” he answered hesitantly. “My superior if that helps. Intelligence Director would be a fitting title, I suppose. But he is the final authority on anything related to the Zararch.”

Zhang would definitely have questions about how this Zararch operated. So did he. “How did you manage to infiltrate XCOM?”

“I was involved very little with the infiltration itself,” he answered slowly. “I suspect that a psionic trigger was placed in someone high within the Japanese military. We know how XCOM recruits its soldiers, and since Zararch agents had already imputed the correct files, it would follow that I would be deemed an acceptable recruit for the XCOM project. Though we were somewhat surprised that you didn’t perform thorough medical examinations upon arrival to the Citadel. Regardless, all I know is that when I was activated, I was sent to the place where Big Sky took me and several other recruits here.”

“That was originally a measure to cut down on unnecessary time,” the Commander pointed out. “I assume it was put in place for the examination to be done by the home country and sent over so the new recruit could be deployed immediately,” He shook his head. Irrelevant now. How did they manage to infiltrate the Japanese military? Unless…"How many more like you are there?”

“I don’t know,” he pursed his lips. “However, I was not a cheap investment. You believed that the reason our first wave of infiltrators…stood out, was because we didn’t know how to mimic you accurately. That _was_ true at first, but we learn fast. That’s why the Zararch agents you’ve fought over the past months have been better, but not perfect. They don’t need to be.”

He waved his hand, indicating the glass walls. “All they need to do is fit into a crowd. Expending resources for perfect replicas like me would be a waste and are only reserved for true deep cover operations.”

“So how likely is it that they could replace key figures around the world?” The Commander asked grimly, lacing his fingers together.

“Possible,” he paused. “Though at the moment it would be mostly an information position, given how anti-alien sentiment is rising. Still valuable, but your governments are not a concern at the moment.”

Wonderful. The Commander couldn’t really see a way to remove this potential problem without demanding the same tests he was doing to XCOM be applied to every government leader. For some reason, he suspected that there might be some pushback to that. At least thanks to…Nartha, he knew it wasn’t cheap. It was strange putting the name to the fact, but he supposed he’d better get used to it. Regardless of if “Soran” was real or not, it was not his name and he wouldn’t be referred to as such any longer.

“So what was your mission here?” The Commander demanded.

“Watch, listen and report,” he answered flatly. “No more or less. I was only given two guidelines: Keep my cover intact at all costs and your execution was forbidden. Otherwise I was given leave to do what I felt was needed.”

“And what exactly did you do?” The Commander demanded coldly, lacing his fingers together as his gaze bored into Nartha’s. “And _how_?”

“Mostly passed along information,” he answered neutrally. “Outright sabotage was near impossible without blowing my cover, especially with Patricia around. But I transferred numbers, soldier names and occasionally mission deployments. Your security is tight, which meant I had to manually convert the information to my language, then a cipher and finally binary. The packets I sent out amongst all the regular traffic were imperceptible which was likely why you didn’t notice.”

Hearing that he was responsible for the unusually prepared aliens wasn’t much of a surprise anymore. “Is the Citadel compromised?”

“I only know we are in America,” he said. “Any sort of location tracking would have blown my cover and I could only estimate. So they have a general idea, but the exact location of the Citadel is not compromised, at least not by me.”

That was…better than he’d feared. But even a general location was bad if the aliens wanted to perform a more in-depth search. “I see. Do they know that Patricia is a psionic then?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “As well as the MECs and genetic modification. Though they’d have likely figured these out on their own eventually.”

“So who _is_ behind this?” The Commander finally asked, getting to a pivotal question all of them had wondered since the beginning. “The sectoids? Your own species?”

“No.” Nartha stated flatly. “I’m unsure what you’ve deduced on your own, but I’ll clarify it now. The species you’ve fought so far are under one commanding species. The Ethereals.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound much like the name of a species.”

“Because it isn’t,” Nartha clarified, taking a breath before he continued. “They never told anyone, so everyone officially refers to them as the Elders because of their lifespan. Unofficially, they are the Ethereal Ones. Secretive, powerful and absolute.”

 _Ethereals_. Finally a name for their true enemy. “I assume they are psions then? How many are there?”

Nartha visibly became uneasy. “Yes, they are. Powerful ones, much more so than Patricia or any sectoid you’ve encountered. They are the sole reason why this collective hasn’t fallen apart. They are feared and respected for good reason. There are not many, but they make up for it in sheer power and cunning.”

“When you say ‘not many,’ how many is that?”

Nartha shifted in his chair. “Off the record, Zararch estimates put the numbers between eight and twenty. I’ve only met two in my life.”

The Commander frowned. That seemed like an absurdly small number, especially with so many different species and the sheer size their military must be. “I highly doubt your…coalition is being held together by twenty psionic aliens. Power has limits, even to those in authority. There are still species we haven’t encountered, yes? How could they _possibly_ hold them together with so few numbers?”

“Easily,” Nartha stated easily, and the Commander saw actual worry in his eyes and his features echoed that sentiment. “You don’t understand what they are capable of. Listen, _one_ Ethereal is all it takes to conquer a planet or subdue a species.”

“One.” The Commander repeated slowly.

“Yes, _one_ ,” Nartha insisted, leaning forward. “Tell me, how do you think that the mutons were brought into their army?”

“I assume a more traditional conquest?” The Commander guessed. “Led by one Ethereal, no doubt.”

Soran pursed his lips. “Perhaps I can illustrate this better by telling the full story. If you want, of course?”

Oh yes, he most certainly wanted to hear this. Not only was this fascinating, but it might provide some actual useful information about the mutons and these Ethereals. “We’re under no time constraints. Go ahead.”

“Right,” Nartha took a breath as he began. “I’m well informed about the mutons, mostly because I was involved in the subjugation and assimilation of the species.”

“The Commander raised an eyebrow. “And how long ago was this?”

“Nearly a century ago,” Nartha stated flatly. “While I am not as young as I used to be, my age is not extraordinary. We were a long-lived species to begin with, and thanks to genetic modification, some can live up to four centuries.” He shook his head. “But my species is a different topic entirely.”

He shifted in his seat and continued. “The mutons were…primitive when Vitakara scouts located the planet. We began observations and eventually the Ethereals determined they were a potential species for assimilation. So I, and several other Zararch agents were sent down to gather information about the species, culture and world.”

“Was it similar to here?” The Commander asked. “Was your appearance altered to fit in?”

“There were some attempts later,” Nartha clarified. “But for the most part, no. There was no need. They had no understanding or defense against our technology. We simply planted trackers on key specimens, listening devices in their tents and towns, and observed their actions, rituals and wars from a far distance.”

“And what did you learn?”

“A great deal,” Nartha admitted. “The Mutons are tribal by nature and had advanced their society to the point where tribes numbered in the tens of thousands. They were an anomaly from the norm because their knowledge and understanding of weapons, warfare and tactics was far beyond what should have been possible.”

“By “far beyond” you mean…?”

“Basic ballistics,” Nartha clarified. “Nothing fancy, but that indicated an intelligence that wasn’t reflected in the rest of their culture. Their science was stagnant, their cities crude and basic, and their mindset closed and primitive.”

“So what explanation was there for this?” The Commander asked curiously.

“A very simple one, in fact,” Nartha answered, sounding somewhat amused. “They were constantly at war. They had discovered the majority of their world and dozens of tribes had their own corners staked out. It was a never-ending battle for control of the planet, a never ending arms race which was why their weapons had advanced beyond the norm.”

 _“What is their world like?”_ Vahlen’s voice asked. He supposed she could be forgiven for breaking protocol here. He repeated the question.

“Dead,” Nartha stated flatly, grimacing in distaste as he continued. “At least compared to here. It’s nothing but volcanos, rock and deserts. The little water that exists is tainted and spoiled from volcanic ash lead, and blood. Their only food sources are equally vicious animals who roam in packs. All that to say that it’s no wonder that the mutons are one of the most durable species, and it makes them excellent soldiers.”

“So what happened next?” The Commander asked. “To be honest, I’m surprised the Ethereals acted if they were as primitive as you describe.”

“So did I at the time,” Nartha agreed. “So they decided to test the intelligence of them. A cache of our tech was deposited near one of the weaker tribes. The Ethereals wanted to see what they’d do.”

“And?” He prompted.

“They quickly figured out they were weapons,” Nartha explained, drumming his fingers on the table absentmindedly as he spoke. “And of course used them to capture some nearby territory. But what happened next was fascinating to observe. They managed to disassemble a weapon derived from the cyberdisks cannons and replicate a crude version. They could only _just_ manage it with the tech in the cache, but the fact that they’d managed it at all was all the Ethereals needed to justify making them the shock troopers of their army.”

“And I suppose the invasion begins now?” The Commander guessed.

“How perceptive,” Nartha commented dryly. “We, the Zararch, determined the best plan would be to kill the chieftain of each tribe and insert a puppet or speaker in their place. We’d witnessed the same with other tribes and in each instance, once the chief was dead, the one who’d struck the killing blow was essentially accepted as the one in charge. The Zar’Chon wanted a quick and efficient victory, and believed the species could be conquered within the span of a few weeks.”

“Weeks,” the Commander repeated skeptically. “A whole species?”

“They were not as advanced as you,” Nartha reminded him neutrally, cocking his head as he spoke. “We were able to map the planet from space with satellites and spacecraft, which also helped us identify every tribe that existed. Of course, that was when the Ethereals sent one of their own to take direct command of the operation.”

“You haven’t told me what they look like,” the Commander noted. “That might be helpful.”

Nartha’s lips twitched as he remembered. “The two I met were very different, but some physical characteristics were the same. Both were exceptionally tall, the smaller of the two I’ve met was at least eight feet. They are bipedal and have four arms with five-fingered hands like yours. Their garb is also very…ornate. They don’t show their faces, and I believe each helm that covers them is unique to each individual Ethereal.

“So the one you met first,” the Commander instructed. “Describe him.”

“His name roughly translates to _The Battlemaster_ ,” Nartha continued. “Ethereals don’t have traditional names. They seem to pick a word that reflects their position or what they are. This one was self-explanatory. This Ethereal was born for war. He stood at least twelve feet tall, and was covered in full battle armor with an ornate red cape attached to his back. Imagine the largest medieval knight you can, now double the size, add another pair of arms and you might be close to imagining what the Battlemaster looked like.”

That was not exactly an image that was encouraging. “A psionic?”

“All Ethereals are psionic,” Nartha reminded him with a nod. “And this one had a palpable aura of command. Not something imaginary and it wasn’t something you noticed when he was in the room. But when he spoke, his words echoed in your mind far more than they should have. You _wanted_ to follow his orders and fall in line. I don’t think he was even trying to do it, it’s just…something that happens with them.”

“So what happened?”

“The Battlemaster took issue with the current plan,” Nartha said, some amusement coloring his voice again. “He felt the tactics were ‘dishonorable’ and scrapped the current plan and instead ordered that caches of weapons similar to the first test batch be deployed to dozens of locations around that world. His reasoning was that they deserved the chance of a ‘fair fight.’”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “That’s…oddly honorable.”

And not what he’d expected either. It didn’t _look_ like Nartha was lying, and he didn’t see a reason he’d start now…but that still seemed a characteristic of a more merciful species. It would not have been the path he would have chosen but he could admire the gesture.

“The Battlemaster was,” Nartha said wistfully. “And to this day I still admire him for that. So he then allowed the mutons a brief amount of time to use the caches while we prepared to enhance and uplift the species itself. The Mutons of course, began new wars, even bloodier when they figured out how to use and create the new weapons. When the time finally came, the Battlemaster took me and a few more agents and began the assault on the largest tribe of the planet.”

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “No army?”

“He considered it… _unfair_ ,” Nartha answered slowly, scowling as he tried to explain. “But we were specifically ordered to hold back until given the word to go forward. I personally think we were only there to keep the Zar’Chon updated. But regardless, the tribe assembled and formed battle lines against the Battlemaster on a desolate battlefield. Rather dramatic, now that I think about it.”

Nartha paused in remembrance. “There are some things that cannot be forgotten. Seeing the Battlemaster systematically slaughter dozens of muton soldiers with little apparent effort is one such thing. It took some time, but the Battlemaster cut a path through the crude town to the center.”

 _“Cut?”_ The Commander questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes,” Nartha recalled. “His weapon of choice is a…greatsword, as odd as that sounds.”

The Commander knew he’d been repeating himself, so he held back on another incredulous comment. “That seems like an ineffective and primitive tool. Especially for a psionic.”

Nartha gave a humorless smile at that. “Who says he doesn’t use psionics? Telekinesis is rather useful for impaling enemies, as well as miniature psionic shields for stopping incoming projectiles. Trust me, the melding of melee combat and psionics is an art the Battlemaster has mastered.”

That was disconcerting. The Commander still found it somewhat hard to believe that one Ethereal could single-handedly face an army. “I assume he killed the chief?”

“By the time he reached the chief, the remaining soldiers were fleeing,” Nartha finished. “But yes, rather easily and spectacularly. His final act before he killed him was tearing the knowledge of his language out psionically and stabbing him in the heart. He wasted no time in taking command of the remaining warriors and non-violent population.”

“And I suppose after securing it, he moved to the next one?” The Commander asked.

“After a period of adjustment,” Nartha amended. “After the first tribe was conquered, the rest of the assimilated species, including my own and the sectoids, began working to modernize the mutons in that area. Houses, medicine, armor, sanitation, basic necessities that were lacking were created or provided. Once that was done, the Battlemaster then moved on to the next one. Again and again until the world was conquered and warring tribes subdued under his command.”

The Commander was silent at that as he waited for Nartha to finish. “While it took longer, the Battlemaster knew what he was doing,” Nartha continued. “He conquered them in a way they understood and respected, thus in doing so, ensured their loyalty forever.”

“And gained a powerful army of soldiers in the process,” the Commander noted grimly. “A worthwhile investment, especially if they were improved.”

“Oh, they were,” Nartha agreed quickly. “Their simple intelligence made them exceptional soldiers. Loyal, durable and unquestioning. Over the next few decades the species was continuously refined through genetic modification and psionic conditioning into the soldiers you-and I, have fought.”

“Are they cloned now?” The Commander asked. “They seem essentially the same.”

“No need for cloning,” Nartha disagreed, shaking his head. “They reproduce quickly on their own. They lack the genetic or physical diversity present in your or my species. There are subtle differences between them, but not very apparent unless you know what to look for. The Zararch believe that the Ethereals and sectoids have been creating offshoots, even further enhanced mutons, but we’ve seen no proof of that.”

“So how do they operate now?” The Commander asked. “Are they automatically assimilated into your army or how is the relationship between the two species set up?”

“Young mutons are allowed to grow up within their species for the first five years,” Nartha explained, crossing his arms. “They mature quickly, and their basic intelligence doesn’t rise much beyond those formative years. The sectoids oversee the induction of species into the military, so they choose the best young mutons and take them away to one of the military training planets. At the same time they also take the weakest, deformed and ill.”

“Why?” The Commander frowned.

“The Ethereals are a very practical species,” Nartha stated, his tone turning cold. “The sectoids even more so. They use deformed and weak ones for their experiments. I don’t know what they do with them, but I’m certain those children wish they had died. The floaters are a direct result of the experiments; mutons who serve no purpose other than to die in battle, slaves to their programmed mind.”

Nartha shook his head once. “The point of that story, Commander, is to demonstrate that the Ethereals are not to be trifled with. That was one of the more _honorable_ ones. I know for a fact that most aren’t nearly as merciful.”

“So what is the point of all this?” The Commander asked, indicating the area around him. “The conquering of species? The invasions? The Ethereals don’t exactly seem benevolent, but I don’t think they’re doing all this just for power. Why are they interested in humanity?”

“Several reasons, from what I’ve been told as well as my own theories,” Nartha answered slowly, leaning forward. “The simplest reason is that you are superior soldiers. Your species demonstrates intelligence, cunning and tactics. You can reproduce quickly, so a theoretical army could be raised within a few decades. Because of that intelligence, you are also very diverse. What one human is good at, others aren’t, yet specialize in another area. That makes you versatile, far more so than other species who are usually only restricted to specific roles.”

It did make sense, but the Commander felt there was more. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Nartha paused. “Your species is psionically capable. The Ethereals have been searching for more species capable of wielding the Gift and have found only two: the sectoids and now humanity. That alone makes the conquest of your species worth any investment.”

“So why are they taking so long?” The Commander demanded.

“I don’t know for sure,” Nartha admitted, shrugging. “The invasions and abductions were initial tests to see how you would respond and adapt. By what accounts I know, you passed once the Hamburg Assault was pushed back. The Ethereal overseeing Earth planned for the possibility of that, and wasn’t that surprised.” The Commander held back from asking details about this Ethereal for the moment and let Nartha finish.

“But something changed after you took the Dreadnought,” he continued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not aware of the full context of that decision, but XCOM wasn’t supposed to be allowed to win. But after that everything went back into watch and observe mode. I was activated and the Ethereals sent the Eth’astri’than to Earth.”

The Commander sighed. “And that is?”

“One of the Vitakara that answers directly to the Ethereals,” Nartha explained. “It’s the highest rank one of my kind can achieve. They are the voice of the Ethereals and their will. They speak with their authority and questioning or defying them is denying the Ethereals themselves.”

The Commander frowned. “Wasn’t there already an Ethereal in charge? While we’re on the topic, what information do you have on him?”

“ _Her_ ,” Nartha corrected. “I’m not convinced the Ethereals have genders like us, but the voice that came out of that orb was feminine, so I’m going with that. She was called Sicarius…yes, that’s the closest translation. She was far different than the Battlemaster. She was much shorter, only standing at roughly eight feet and wore black robes that covered her entire body, the material itself adorned with gray symbols. Her helmet was also…disconcerting, it was essentially a silver orb. No eyeholes or breathing holes. Thankfully I didn’t notice much.”

“Good for you, I guess,” the Commander muttered. An eight-foot tall alien with a silver orb for a head would not have been something he could have forgotten easily.

“You misunderstand,” Nartha leaned forward intently. “ _It_ _wasn’t me_. Remember how I mentioned that the Battlemaster had an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore? Sicarius was the exact opposite. She faded in the background. I was at strategy reviews where we all legitimately forgot she was in the room, standing in the far corner. She rarely interrupted, or injected her own opinion.”

“A rather apathetic attitude,” the Commander commented.

“I personally think she thought this assignment was beneath her,” Nartha shrugged. “Most of the major decisions regarding the plan for humanity have been given by the Zar’Chon. I suppose Sicarius got her wish in the end, since just before I was deployed she left and the Zar’Chon told me that the Ethereals were sending someone else who would ‘Actually take humanity seriously.’”

Hmm. “Implying that isn’t normal?”

“No,” Nartha emphasized. “You’ve been waging an effective war against us for nearly a year. That is unprecedented. You are the first species to challenge the Ethereal’s will, even if it’s unintentional. Now they are beginning to take notice and unless you act quickly and decisively, you will lose.”

“We’ll get to dealing with that in a minute,” the Commander raised a hand. “So they want us for their army. Expected. But now the question is _why_ they need an army? Why are they doing all this work in the first place?”

Nartha clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. “Officially…no one other than the Ethereals, and maybe some of the Sectoid Hive Commanders know. But there are rumors. One of which being that the Ethereals are dying.”

The Commander blinked. “How quickly?”

“Quickly enough for it to be an issue, slowly enough for them not to speed up their plans,” Nartha pursed his lips. “The general idea is that they are aggressively looking to other species whose genetics might hold a key to curing them. Personally, I don’t believe this is true. The Ethereals are masters over genetics, and combined with the expertise of the Sectoids and Vitakara, it makes it hard to believe that they couldn’t find a cure for whatever ails them.”

Well, it had to be too good to be true. Although it probably wouldn’t have mattered much. Even if they were dying “quickly”, that word probably translated into decades at most. If the Ethereals were as old as Nartha was suggesting, a century might be a very short timeframe. “So if not that, what is the other explanation? Why do all this?”

“Because something is coming.” Nartha’s features contorted into worry. “Something even the Ethereals are afraid of. No one knows what, why, or how, but if it comes…the results will be catastrophic. No one talks about it openly, of course, but the Zar’Chon told me himself that he suspected our ultimate purpose is as a defense against an unknown force.”

“And you don’t know what it could be?”

“Something old and powerful enough to threaten a galaxy,” Nartha said quietly. “It’s a rumor. But unlike the other…this one I believe.”

That did make sense on some level, but the Commander wasn’t quite convinced that was the full motivation. Aegis had spoken of then moving onto more advanced civilizations after Earth was taken, so even if there _was_ some sort of final threat the Ethereals were preparing for, it likely wouldn’t happen for a very long time.

It didn’t change anything, at least for him. Perhaps if the Ethereals had come peacefully, things would be different. But they hadn’t and he wouldn’t simply let them take his planet regardless of their motivations. He also hadn’t forgot Nartha saying that they had to act decisively. That implied he had something they could use.

But before that, he was curious about one detail. “So why betray them?” The Commander asked quietly. “Because from what you’ve said, it doesn’t seem that you hate them.”

Nartha looked at him, for once his expression unreadable. “Because I don’t, Commander. I don’t think the Ethereals are completely evil. They saved my species and I can’t forget that. But things need to change and they made a mistake here. They treated your species like the mutons; a primitive, base people incapable or unworthy of any attempt of reasoning.”

He shifted in his seat. “I didn’t think highly of humanity initially, most of what I was told was that the majority were unreasonable and warmongering. But I suppose spending time among you has changed my mind on that. I had friends among the soldiers and learned much. You have your own thoughts, motivations, dreams and desires, and I don’t see you as any less sophisticated than my own species before our own meeting with the Ethereals.”

Nartha shook his head. “But that wouldn’t have been enough. What finalized my decision was you, Commander. Before this I wouldn’t have thought anyone could pose a threat to them, but now…I think you could be the one to challenge them successfully.”

“Flattering,” the Commander said slowly. “But I’m not under any illusions as to our strength against the full alien army. I know a final invasion is coming.”

“It is,” Nartha nodded. “Which is why your time to prepare is even shorter than you think. You need to strike quickly, decisively. Most importantly, you need to unite your species _now,_ otherwise you will lose. You already have begun evening the playing field in terms of weapons and tech, but the war for Earth will be much larger than squads of eight.”

He’d suspected that. “I see. You truly believe that XCOM can organize a defense?”

“If anyone can, it is you with XCOM,” Nartha nodded. “And there are others who are tired of living under the Ethereals. No one has done anything because it was an unspoken law the Ethereals _cannot_ be challenged. But if they learn of a war…it might be enough to convince them to do the same.”

 _That_ was interesting. “There are more species willing to fight?”

“I should clarify others of my kind,” Nartha admitted slowly, glancing downward. “The Sectoids will not rebel, as the Ethereals have allowed them unparalleled freedom in their experiments. The mutons are incapable of the intelligence or independence necessary for such a drastic decision. But the Vitakara…there are those willing to fight if they felt they had a chance. My species has paid off our debt to the Ethereals, and there are many who feel the same.”

“What debt?” The Commander asked. “You said they saved your species?”

“Yes,” Nartha nodded. “Which is why I dislike going to war with them, but they will not listen any other way. They have taken advantage of us, and those who raised questions were quickly removed. That has happened long enough, I feel.”

There was silence between them for a few moments. _“He’s been telling the truth,”_ Patricia informed him in a subdued voice. _“At least what he believes is true.”_

That wasn’t hard to believe. If it turned out that Nartha had made or lied about this, then the Commander would have honestly been more impressed than annoyed that he’d said it so convincingly.

So…there were other aliens out there. An entire civilization that _might_ be convinced into fighting the Ethereals. Although it wasn’t out of the question that Nartha might be exaggerating the number of people willing to fight. He needed more context. “I don’t suppose you could share the story of how the Ethereals saved your species in the first place?”

“I can,” he said. “But it might take a while.”

The Commander motioned his hand in a circle. “Go ahead.”

Nartha took a breath. “Very well. My species is incredibly genetically malleable. Even more than your own. Our homeworld is similar to Earth in that it is home to very diverse biospheres. Since it is larger as well, I would say it’s host to many more extreme areas. Places where blizzards rage for days or where the temperatures rise beyond the boiling point. They are admittedly rare and most are unable to live in those places, and the majority live in more neutral climates.”

Nartha rolled his shoulders as he got more comfortable. “The point is that because of our adaptability, we were able to survive almost anywhere and as a result we...are very different from each other depending on where we lived. Had science not proven that we were all one species, you would likely never guess a Vitakara from the Boreal and Arcidia regions were even remotely related.”

He suddenly smirked. “I found it amusing when I learned that the different ‘races’ of humanity was and is a cause for contention. The only differences between your species are the color of your skin. A purely superficial feature that ultimately changes nothing about the person in question.”

“Go on,” the Commander nodded.

“In contrast, the differences between the races of Vitakara go beyond superficial,” Nartha continued. “We adapt to our environment and evolve to survive it. The Boreal region of my planet is a frozen, arctic and snowing environment. So the Vitakara who live there evolved to withstand sub-freezing temperatures, have fur that covers their body and stand much taller than others of my kind. In contrast, Vitakara from the Pareigh region are nearly opposite. They mostly resemble snakes with arms, have short fangs to incapacitate attackers and can withstand the harsh desert environments.” Nartha paused for a moment, then continued.

“The most extreme example is the Sar’Manda. They live in the oceans and have established entire cities under the water. They have fins, gills, what you’d expect from an intelligent underwater race. They can’t breathe air, but they don’t really have an issue with that. I suppose they are mostly unique in that they rarely venture out beyond their underwater empire.”

No wonder the Ethereals were interested in them. Vahlen had noted how malleable the species was, and that matched up with what Nartha was telling him. He wished he could have seen Vahlen’s face when the human-sized snake-aliens were being described. “Fascinating,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose that must have caused issues? With being so different from each other?”

“Not as many as you’d think,” he corrected. “For the most part…we’re a peaceful species. Very rarely have wars broken out, but when they _did_ …well, several races no longer exist. For centuries we believed that we were all separate species, but when it was determined that we belonged to the same race…well, it was a catalyst for us.”

“I suppose it could have been either very positive or negative,” the Commander guessed. “I can see war breaking out.”

“It very likely could have,” Nartha agreed. “Remembering our history, if even one race had refused and gone to war, we would very likely have destroyed ourselves. But fortunately, the opposite happened. We came together as one species and actually made moves to unite in full. Similar to your United Nations if it actually worked.”

“What next?” The Commander asked.

“We entered a utopia of sorts,” Nartha explained. “We advanced in science, technology and simple quality of life. There was no war, we were happy, stable and devoted everything to advancing ourselves. What finally changed everything was the breakthrough of genetic modification. Vitakara scientists determined how to change any aspect of our bodies and that opened up a….Pandora’s Box is an appropriate human term.”

“How?” The Commander demanded.

“Because nothing was off-limits,” Nartha stated bluntly. “Now that it was possible, we could be the perfect image of ourselves. Intelligence, strength, appearance, all of that could be changed to what was considered ideal. Even the race could be changed if it was so desired. It was celebrated and everyone took the opportunity, considering it the ultimate expression of advancement. And everything was perfect for a few decades.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “And I assume something happened?”

“We started dying,” Nartha said grimly, his face darkening at the memory. “Thousands at once. Everyone thought it was an anomaly at first, since the majority of those dying _were_ older, but what raised questions was how they found the bodies. Their skin was split open and their internal organs had either exploded, liquidated, or quit unnaturally. After a few more waves of much younger people died, they soon found a common cause: Genetic modification.”

The Commander frowned. “That seems awfully negligent if that was the reason. Why didn’t they test for it?”

“They _did_ ,” Nartha emphasized with a hiss. “They spent _decades_ trying to remove negative side effects. They thought they succeeded when there were no issues for years. What they didn’t realize was that they didn’t _remove_ the side effects, they’d merely _delayed_ them. Once they determined that, they then realized that anyone who’d been genetically modified was now a ticking time bomb. They had mere decades before the side effects manifested and killed them.”

Just hearing the story made the Commander uneasy, not just because he could see some parallels with what they were doing here. “I assume the time varied on several factors?”

“Age, what was modified, how extensive it was and how much they were modified already,” Nartha clarified. “Which was a problem…because the scientists, so sure of their own creations, were the most extensively modified of all. The short version, Commander, is that unless we could find a cure, our entire species would die within a century.”

“Were there no unmodified Vitakara?” The Commander asked, shifting in his own seat. “Weren’t there at least a few who didn’t take the upgrades?”

“This wasn’t something restricted to the elite,” Nartha sighed. “It was a part of life. It was the equivalent of phones for you. Even if it is basic, everyone in the civilized world has one. And yes, there were those who chose not to be additionally modified. But it didn’t matter since our children had been modified in the womb to ensure they came out healthy. They were already doomed, they would just be the last to die.”

“I’m surprised everyone just accepted the risks,” the Commander noted. “Do you have no skeptics?”

“Not when something has been proven,” Nartha said, his lips curling up. “Unlike certain members of humanity, we actually listen to our scientists and trust that they aren’t lying. Unless someone could provide some kind of evidence refuting an established and proven position, they were ostracized and dismissed. In retrospect, it was a mistake not to be more skeptical or deny other viewpoints. Perhaps someone would have noticed if the stigma of speaking against scientists hadn’t existed.”

“I assume there was panic once the public learned they could be wiped out?” the Commander asked after a few seconds.

“Panic…” Nartha hissed. “Yes…And that was another instance where we almost went to war with ourselves. Several groups of frightened and furious Vitakara destroyed several dozen major institutes and labs. They were detained soon after, but everyone was scared. The scientists were rushing to find some way to cure or at least remove the modification. Some even continued to modify their brains in the hopes that more intelligence would help them solve the problem.”

“It didn’t work.” The Commander guessed.

“No,” Nartha shook his head. “They could not find a solution. More of us kept dying, and now it was mostly the younger generations and scientists. Our population had already been reduced to half of what it was and hope was running out. Every scientist, teacher and engineer was working furiously at all hours of the day, but the general population was slowly resigning themselves to death and a not-insignificant number began committing suicide, rather than wait for the inevitable.”

His voice had turned sorrowful as he finished. The Commander wondered if he’d known someone who’d lived during that time. “That was when they came,” he finished quietly.

“The Ethereals?”

“Correct, Commander,” Nartha said tiredly. “Before the crisis, we were beginning to develop spacecraft, but abandoned it soon after we started dying, so we never detected them coming. We don’t know how long they watched us before intervening. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. They came and began working to cure us. And they did. In return for that, our leaders swore loyalty to them.”

The Commander looked up, thinking. Quite honestly, he couldn’t exactly blame them for making such a major decision like that. Considering that they’d been saved from extinction…he wasn’t sure they could be faulted for that. “I suppose I can see why some would be loyal to them.”

“We owed them,” Nartha agreed. “But I’m certain the Ethereals didn’t do it completely out of the goodness of their hearts. They knew how to use us and use us well. We didn’t object of course, since everyone was so grateful to simply be alive. But the honeymoon period wore off a while ago. The Ethereals control everything our species does now.”

“Like what?” The Commander asked.

“They use our genetic malleability in military operations and against hostile species,” Nartha explained gesturing to himself. “Like me, and they use us pretty frequently. Every aspect of our government is controlled and members selected personally by the Ethereals themselves or a representative. At times they request batches of us for experiments for the sectoids, and other batches are placed on hostile or desolate worlds where our adaptability can be observed and then exploited.”

 _“Explain,”_ Vahlen said. He repeated the question.

“We adapt quickly,” Nartha explained hesitantly. “We had to in order to survive initially as a species. So say this group of Vitakara was placed on a volcanic world with enough initial supplies and technology to survive. Initially it would be difficult, but possible. However, over several generations they would begin to change. Maybe their skin would be resistant to fire, maybe they can inhale smoke, perhaps they even grow some kind of picking tool from their arm. The point is that once they declare the experiment complete, they can pick them up and apply those same genetic advantages to any in their army.”

Clever. That was something _he_ would do if he had a hyper-evolving species at his disposal. Though he could see why Nartha might take issues with it. “Is that the extent of it?”

“Almost,” Nartha sighed. “They dictate every aspect of our military and intelligence branches as well. We’re allowed to appoint within the ranks, but they never promote someone to a position of power who doesn’t have absolute loyalty to the Ethereals. They also heavily restrict genetic modification for non-military and regular citizens. Though I’m not certain that’s a bad thing.”

Given their history, he could see why that would be an advantage, and personally one he agreed with as well. Genetic modification should not be offered to everyone. Only those who needed it. “Although I suppose it isn’t as oppressive as it could be,” the Commander supposed.

“No,” Nartha agreed. “It’s…conflicting. Our lives have improved for sure, and we know more than ever before. But in return we’ve essentially been reduced to second-class citizens. Tools to be used when appropriate. My original dream was for us and the Ethereals to have an alliance similar to the sectoids, more as equals. But I know that will not happen. They see no reason to change the terms and none of my own people will speak up for fear of expulsion or execution. There is only one path if the role of the Vitakara is to change. We must fight.”

He would have to listen to this conversation again later. There was so much information he was learning here that he wasn’t fully processing it at the moment. But he _was_ certain that whatever he decided, Nartha would not be executed. He’d earned that much, but now the question was if that outweighed the fact that he’d working against them for months.

 _“Ask him how he resists psionics,”_ Patricia asked. _“I can sense him, but only if I concentrate only on him.”_

The Commander repeated the question and Nartha smiled. “Ah, yes,” he looked around at the glass. “Apologies, Patricia. It is a habit. It’s not so much resisting psionics as keeping a specific mindset at any given time. I was taught it in case I encountered a psionic and it would at least be able to prevent them hearing random thoughts from me. It’s no defense against a directed psionic probe, but it lulls passive psions into a false sense of security. I’ll try not to keep it up to make it easier.”

He returned his attention to the Commander. “But we should look to the future, Commander. Regardless of what you do to me, decisive blows need to be dealt and your species unite if you want to survive. You know what you’re fighting now, and I cannot dictate your war further. But please remember that not every alien species that you fight is completely irredeemable or evil. All are pawns of the Ethereals and some of those pawns are willing to rebel.”

The Commander was silent. “I will remember that,” he promised, inclining his head. “Though I will not make promises. If the choice is between humanity or another species, I will ensure we survive, no matter who dies in the process.”

“Let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” Nartha inclined his head. “But if you want to strike a blow against the aliens now, I can help you.”

“Go on,” the Commander prompted.

“They have built an underground base in the Middle East,” Nartha revealed. “It’s under the control of the sectoids and is where the majority of experiments on your species are taking place. I know where it is. In the event that my cover was compromised and I had to leave, I was instructed to head there.”

The Commander leaned forward. “I think that would be a good plan. I’m also curious about one more thing, what about EXALT?”

“I know little about why the Ethereals want to use them,” Nartha shrugged. “But I do know that if they underestimate the Ethereals, they will be reduced to puppets. They are a distraction, Commander. You would do best to focus on the real threat.”

Easier said than done. “At this base…I assume it will be heavily defended?”

“Yes and no,” Nartha revealed, shaking his head. “You will find no turrets or armies of soldiers. But if it’s under the sectoids, you have more to be worried about. Their experiments are arguably just as dangerous and highly unpredictable. But your greatest threat will be the Hive Commander, assuming the sectoids deemed it necessary. While not as powerful as an Ethereal, a Hive Commander is at least as dangerous as Patricia.”

He made a mental note of that. “So now for one final question, for now,” the Commander said, tapping his finger on the table. “What about you? What do you expect or want from this?”

“Nothing much more than continuing to fight,” Nartha answered. “Though I know the soldiers will trust me no longer, and you likely have issues as well. But I want to be involved in some way. Or execute me if you feel I pose too much of a risk.”

The Commander was silent for a few seconds. “I will decide that later,” he finally said and stood. “You’ve earned a reprieve from execution. What you’ve provided will change the war, so thank you, Nartha. Your fate will be decided later.”

He nodded. “Very well, Commander. Good luck.” The Commander turned around and exited the module, trying to process everything he’d learned.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“I think it’s safe to say we’re in much deeper than we thought,” Van Doorn commented. “That…it’s hard to think the same after hearing that.”

“Assuming he was telling the truth,” Zhang muttered, but the Commander could tell from his tone that even he didn’t believe his words.

“He was,” Patricia assured him quietly. “Everything he said was true. Trust me, I made sure. He even stopped whatever psionic distraction he’d been doing.”

“It doesn’t look good,” Bradford said, his voice clearly subdued. “Even if the Ethereals are only as half as powerful as he claims…we don’t have a defense to that. We’re not ready.”

“Especially if they send their army of mutons with them,” Shen agreed somberly. “Not to mention we can’t hold a sustained air battle with them. Their fleet could simply bombard us into submission.”

“Unless we take them out,” Patricia argued. “It worked with the dreadnought!”

“And can we rely on that every time?” Van Doorn demanded. “It doesn’t matter how many we take down, they’ll just send more! When it comes down to it we’re one planet and one species. How many do the Ethereals control?!”

“But what is the alternative?” Zhang asked quietly. “Surrender and assimilate into the Ethereal Collective? Allow them to turn us into weapons and pawns?”

“Not a chance,” Patricia muttered.

“Enough.”

Everyone stopped and looked to the Commander, who had his back turned to them. He was looking at a screen displaying the general area that Nartha had identified was the alien base. On the surface there seemed nothing but sand and rock, but a subterranean scan had revealed a clear underground base that extended far below.

He’d been watching it, deep in thought and the rest of them had continued talking as normal. But now he held their attention as he turned around. A newfound resolve and determination was in his eyes and was reflected in his voice. “Our task is no more impossible than before,” he stated, looking at each of them. “If you thought that I didn’t consider this possible, or even if _you_ didn’t consider it, wake up and face the facts. You heard what Nartha said. We should never have lasted this long. But we _have_. We weren’t supposed to take the Dreadnought, but we _did_. We were not supposed to pose a threat, but we _do_.”

He paused, his tone frosty. “We should not _worry_ or _agonize_ about what the aliens are capable of. We _know_ now how powerful they are now, what they can do and what they have at their disposal. Knowledge is power and now we can adapt to prepare. We are not going to stop. We are going to drive the Ethereals off Earth forever.”

The Commander pointed at them. “When have we ever stopped from doing what was necessary because it was _impossible_ or never been done? Look what we’ve accomplished by _ignoring_ what was said couldn’t be done. MELD, MECs, genetic modification, XCOM itself!” He began pacing, making sure to keep his tone measured. “ _Impossible_ is a word that held no meaning for us before, and it will not now. The Ethereals may outnumber us ten to one, but we _do_ have the tools to defeat them.”

He nodded towards Patricia. “We’ve seen the effect of one psionic. But one is not enough. We must have more. We’ve seen one MEC decimate dozens of soldiers, so we must innovate and make more. I’ve experienced my own enhanced abilities and know that’s only the beginning of what we can do.”

The Commander jabbed a thumb back at the screen. “We have precious little time before the Ethereals come in force, so we must not simply _accept_ that we have to work with this divided, petty and vindictive world. We can’t afford it any longer. We as a species must begin preparing for war, regardless of what China or the Council thinks.”

“But-“ Bradford began.

“I was content to have XCOM be simply the spearhead,” the Commander cut off bluntly, with a hard stare. “But if the world continues to be as petty and stupid as I’ve witnessed, that might have to be reevaluated. We now wield military and political power. Perhaps we should use it.”

The Commander shook his head. “But first we will cripple the alien operations on our planet,” he turned back to the screen. “And once we storm their base, we will move to the next. When the next UFO lands we will take it as well. We will continue turning Earth into a death trap for any alien that _dares_ step foot on it.”

He turned his intense gaze to Vahlen. “How goes progress on the Sectoid Virus and Chryssalid project?”

Patricia turned in surprise to Vahlen, but the Commander didn’t care at the moment that she knew. He’d been considering bringing her into the Internal Council for some time now as a psionic and soldier representative, since she was often on the front lines. Though she’d of course have to be brought up to speed on…certain projects, the Commander was certain he could trust her.

“The virus is entering the final stages,” Vahlen updated, even her voice subdued from the gravity of the situation. “I’m refining the effects now from the data I’ve gathered, but it will work-“

“Can you have it ready to deploy by the end of the month?” The Commander demanded.

She hesitated, then finally nodded. “I can, though I’ll have to devote several more resources towards it. The Chryssalid project is entering testing phase. It would help if I had a few more test subjects for implementation testing-“

“Done,” the Commander stated. “You’ll have them by the end of the week. Bradford, make it happen.”

He swallowed. “Yes, Commander.”

The Commander turned his attention to Shen. “Finish your designs for the prototype MECs you showed me and begin production. That is your top priority now. Understand? You’ll have pilots when the time comes.”

The elder engineer looked somewhat taken aback by the intensity of the Commander, but nodded all the same. “I will, Commander.”

The Commander’s gaze swung to Zhang. “Your directive has changed, Director. I want EXALT’s propaganda network crippled _now_. Have your agents identify EXALT personnel, then interrogate and execute them. We knock them out of commission for a few months and they’ll likely spend that either dealing with the aliens, frantically trying to rebuild. Should they attempt to retaliate, ruin Solaris Industries.”

Zhang stood at attention. “It will be done,” he promised.

The Commander focused his MELD-rimmed eyes on Patricia. “Psion Trask?”

She straightened up immediately. “Yes, Commander?”

He motioned to the screen. “We have an alien base to assault. Are you ready?”

She gave him a salute, her eyes filled with resolve. “Give the word, Commander.”

The Commander picked up a tablet containing a list of soldiers. “Here is our personnel list. You know the soldiers better than I, their strengths and weaknesses. Choose two squad’s worth, including Myra for the assault, and gear up for it.”

She took the tablet gingerly and began scrolling through it. “Van Doorn, have some of the soldiers secure Nartha and bring him up here.”

Van Doorn blinked. “Why?”

“Because I want to see if he’s as useful as he claims to be,” the Commander answered, turning his attention to the screen. “If he really wants to help, let him prove it.” He looked over at all of them still standing still. “We all have work to do. Our timeframe is months, if that. Let’s get to work. Dismissed.”

All of them rushed off to perform or start their tasks.

There was one issue he hadn’t spoken to them about: the actual uniting of humanity. But luckily, he had an idea and what had initially seemed like a worst-case scenario might wind up being their best chance.

He’d thought he’d have time to plan a little more thoroughly, but that didn’t seem to be an option anymore. Change needed to happen _now_ , and his power to do so was limited.

So the initial stages of the Directive needed to be put into motion.

But that was for another day.

Right now the target was the alien base.

Time to hit them where it hurt.


	31. Alien Base Assault: Sectoid Hive

 

_The Citadel, Barracks_

The Commander had considered the best way to deal with the distribution of the knowledge that “Soran” was a spy, but had finally decided the best way was the most direct. He’d initially thought that letting the information get out on its own would be sufficient, but then realized that way might lead to important details being distorted until what was being shared wasn’t true at all.

With that in mind, after Patricia had put together a list of soldiers for the assault, he’d ordered them to assemble in the Barracks and just planned on giving them some basic facts. “Soran” was an alien, had turned himself in, and had provided them with the location of an alien base. The details about the aliens themselves would be restricted until they could they knew what they were going to do with it.

He’d declared it informal, and the soldiers knew at this point that he meant it. Not that he’d been overly concerned they’d take advantage of that; in the barracks now there were no soldiers _that_ unprofessionally dressed. All of them wore the plain XCOM fatigues at least; only the soldiers selected for the assault were geared up and ready to go. At this point, few of them aside Patricia knew the full, or even partial extent of what was going on, but there had undoubtedly been speculation.

Still, he hated speeches like this and didn’t know how best to start it, so he opted for the direct approach. “I’ve asked you to assemble here to ensure that I am the first person you hear this from. This is one rumor that cannot go unconfirmed.” He paused. “The former XCOM soldier known as Soran Kakusa has turned himself in as an alien spy.”

There was a barrage of gasps, sharp intakes of breath, widened eyes and looks of surprise and shock from the soldiers gathered across the room. They refrained from quietly conversing with their neighbors, but just from their expressions and body language he could tell they wanted answers. “I’ll stress that it was voluntary,” he repeated. “And because of this he has revealed to us a great deal about the aliens themselves, of which the important parts of which will be compiled and distributed. But what immediately concerns us now is that we have the location of an alien base established on Earth.”

He inclined his head to Patricia who was standing to his side. “Overseer Trask has chosen the team for this assault, which will commence once I’ve finished here. As of right now, the alien spy is safely in captivity and his ultimate fate is still being determined. He has expressed a willingness to assist our operation, and we will be utilizing his knowledge of alien technology, weaponry and tactics as safely as we can, starting with this assault.” His gaze swept across the room. “I know several of you were friends with him, so I will say that it is not your fault for not noticing. There are people to blame, but you are not among that number. However, we are now taking steps to ensure that no other alien spies are within our ranks. Starting now, Vahlen will be conducting blood and DNA tests on everyone within the Citadel, including me.”

He gave them his salute. “That is all.” He looked to Patricia. “Prepare your team for deployment. The rest of you, dismissed.”

A low wave of dialogue began immediately after that and Patricia stepped forward. “Thunder Team!” She shouted. “Load up and converge in the hanger now!”

There were several shouts of “Yes Overseer!” and all the armored soldiers began moving towards the front and his job done, the Commander turned away and began walking up to the Situation Room. He clicked his earpiece. “Van Doorn?”

_“Here.”_

“Have Nartha brought up now, ensure he’s restrained effectively, and tell everyone else the operation is about to start.”

He heard the nod in Van Doorn’s voice. _“Will do, Commander. See you up here.”_

***

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

At least they’d moved him out of that containment module.

Nartha didn’t know if Vahlen had deliberately designed the module to be as uncomfortable as possible for non-human life, but he’d been unable to sit still or focus completely during that entire interrogation. Actually, knowing Vahlen, it was very possible she'd deliberately set the atmosphere or conditions in the module to specifically make him uncomfortable. He knew XCOM had captured Vitakara agents before, and likely had placed several of them in the same module.

Still, he could at least feel some relief at not having to hide who he was anymore. After that conversation, the fear of execution had died down somewhat. He no longer expected that to happen to him, but the question now was what _would_ happen to him.

Despite his offer to the Commander, he doubted he would ever wear the XCOM armor again, and he didn’t blame them in the slightest. At the very least he expected to be questioned again individually. Zhang would probably want to know the inner workings of the Zararch; Vahlen, the biology and history of the various species; Shen, maybe on Ethereal, Sectoid and Vitakara tech, for what little he actually knew.

But the important parts he’d condensed to the Commander and now everything relied upon what he did with that data. At least he’d sent some false data to the Zar’Chon before deciding to turn himself in, so he had some time before they suspected his death or betrayal. It wasn’t inconceivable that the Commander or Zhang would use him to funnel bad intel to the Zararch, though they had to know that would only work a few times before they caught on.

He did wonder how his friends would react, even though they likely would consider him one no longer. He suspected not very well; it was traditionally accepted that anyone, regardless of species, wouldn’t exactly cope well when learning that someone they’d become friends with was all a lie. He wondered if any of them would come speak to him, should they even be allowed.

The door to the cell abruptly swung open and Nartha looked up, assuming a neutral expression. Two armored and helmeted XCOM soldiers he didn’t recognize walked in. “Up,” the taller one ordered, his armor striped with navy blue on the chest plate and legs. Nartha complied and presented his hands.

“Other way,” the smaller soldier, a woman, corrected as she motioned him to turn around. Made sense, binding him from the back was smarter. He felt the cool binders snap on and turned around to face them once more.

“May I ask where I’m going?” Nartha finally said as they began escorting him out of the cells.

“To the Commander, on his orders,” the woman answered, her own tone tight. “You apparently wanted to help. I guess we’ll see how true that is.”

Really. Hmm, now he had an idea of why he was being escorted up. The Commander likely wouldn’t waste time after he’d revealed the Sectoid Hive, and since he was the only alien with knowledge of how they operated, it would make sense for the Commander to exploit his knowledge. This reinforced his decision to trust the Commander with this; he was fortunately acting exactly like he hoped he would.

“Why did you do it?” The man asked as they walked, his tone more accusation than anything. However, Nartha wasn’t quite sure how he should answer. They could be asking _why he’d worked against them,_ or asking _why he’d turned himself in_. Those had very different answers.

“Do what?” He finally asked.

“Give yourself up,” he clarified, shooting him a helmeted glance. “Traitors generally don’t do that.”

Nartha shrugged. “Because your species doesn’t deserve a fate worse than mine…and because I believe XCOM has a chance to win. A slight one, but more than has existed before.”

“How noble,” the woman commented sarcastically.

“No.” Nartha shook his head. “Not that.”

“Hmm,” the man muttered as they walked, but kept silent as they escorted him up to the Situation Room. The door hissed open and they stepped inside. Every one of the Commander’s inner circle was there. Zhang, Van Doorn, Shen, Vahlen, all crowded around a holotable. The Commander was in the center, behind the holotable, looked up and greeted him with a nod.

The rest of them looked at him with expressions ranging from neutrality to disgust. Bradford and Van Doorn were on the latter half, but Nartha wasn’t entirely worried about them. Knowing where he stood was knowledge in it of itself. Vahlen and Zhang were much harder to read, though he suspected Zhang wanted to bleed him for intel while Vahlen would be more interested in dissecting him.

“Here he is,” the woman stated. “Orders?”

“Thank you,” the Commander said, motioning to the door. “Dismissed. We can handle him.”

The soldiers saluted and stepped back as they exited the room. After the door slid shut, Bradford sighed. “You might as well get over here and make yourself useful,” Nartha complied and began walking over, figuring best not to push his luck in asking the binders be removed. “Be careful,” Bradford warned harshly, steel in his voice. “One false move and-“

“I’m well aware how this works,” Nartha retorted wearily as he reached the holotable, standing opposite the Commander. “Though I doubt you would be the one to kill me. Director Zhang would likely beat you to it.”

“Likely,” Zhang agreed as emotionlessly as ever, as he eyed the alien dispassionately.

“Now that we’ve established the obvious, let’s get to work,” the Commander interrupted, looking at all of them in the eyes. “You wanted to make yourself useful, Nartha. I want to see just how true that is.”

“Provided I have the knowledge, I will tell you what I know,” Nartha promised.

“Good.” The Commander pressed a button and the holotable lit up and displayed a map of the world. “I’ve just authorized a strike on the alien base you revealed to me. Two squads and Myra are headed there now.”

As he’d suspected. He wondered if that would be enough. That number of XCOM soldiers, along with Myra, would likely be able to deal with the forces inside, though likely not without casualties. But then again, the danger here wasn’t the sectoids.

“I’m glad to hear you’re acting so quickly,” Nartha complemented, inclining his head.

“Thank you so very much,” the Commander commented sarcastically. “But we’re entering uncharted territory here. We’re likely going to encounter things we don’t understand, so to prevent unnecessary casualties or difficulty, I need to know how extensive your knowledge is of this alien base.”

Nartha paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking carefully. Half these people likely wanted him dead, so it would be best to make himself as useful as possible without antagonizing them anymore. “I do not know _this_ specific base…but I have a pretty good idea of what you’ll find.”

“Enlighten us,” Van Doorn ordered coldly.

Nartha recalled what he knew of the Sectoids. “The base is likely going to be staffed with mostly sectoids, as should be obvious,” he started, shifting in place. “The majority will likely not be the pilots you’ve encountered. They’ll be specialized for labs and experimentation.”

Shen raised an eyebrow. “Pilots?”

Ah, right. They didn’t know. “Yes, the majority of the sectoids XCOM has fought have been of the pilot variety. Even those you’ve encountered on abductions. They make poor soldiers, but they are the most expendable of the species. Combat-oriented sectoids are generally not created without a major cause.”

“Created,” Vahlen noted. “You mean cloned?”

 _“Grown,”_ Nartha corrected her, maintaining eye contact. “And yes, each sectoid variant is grown from a pre-created template. Pilots, scientists, engineers, leaders, all are specifically designed and created for one specific purpose.”

She frowned. “They couldn’t have _always_ been like this, yes?”

“I’ll get to that in a moment,” Nartha said, looking back at the Commander. “But as to the rest, I would expect mechtoids and outsiders for the rest of the armed forces. But those aren’t what you should be worried about.”

“And what is that?” Shen asked.

“Two things,” Nartha said, grimacing as he continued. “The sectoids will be performing…experiments on your species. Likely on others as well, but primarily your own. Should they deem it necessary, they may release their test subjects against you. I cannot predict what that will entail, though.”

“I doubt those will cause too much of a problem,” the Commander said, pursing his lips. “Especially since there might be chance they turn against the sectoids.”

Nartha frowned. “The sectoids have likely psionically influenced their test subjects. Even if they are passive, I find it difficult to believe they’d attack their sectoid masters.”

“What is the second thing?” Zhang demanded neutrally.

“A base this important will likely be under the control of a Hive Commander,” Nartha revealed, shivering at the thought of those creatures. “You asked about the sectoids before they turned to genetic modification, Vahlen. A Hive Commander is one of the sectoids from before they turned to cloning completely. I don’t know much about their history, but from what the Zararch have learned, the sectoids lived in a caste system of sorts, and one day the ruling class of sectoids decided to perfect the species as they saw fit. A goal the Ethereals helped them fulfill. Those ruling sectoids are now the Hive Commanders.”

Nartha paused. “Sectoids don’t think like we do. They operate in a pseudo-hive-mind. Individuals can perform basic functions on their own, but are essentially useless and vulnerable without guidance or support from nearby sectoids. They communicate telepathically with each other and can psionically fortify and support another sectoid if needed.”

“And I suppose a Hive Commander controls the hive-mind?” Vahlen guessed, actually sounding curious. “Or gives the instructions?”

Nartha snorted. “If only that were it. A Hive Commander is much more dangerous than a simple overmind. They can think for themselves, are highly intelligent thanks to genetically modifying their minds, and are powerful psionics.”

“Define ‘powerful’,” Bradford suggested.

“Powerful enough that your soldiers should be extremely wary,” Nartha cautioned. “I’ve never met a Hive Commander, but if what I’ve been told is accurate, the Hive Commander will begin toying with your soldiers as soon as it knows they’re there. Hallucinations, irrationality, suicide, even mind control. Those are real dangers when facing a Hive Commander, and one who can telepathically issue commands to its entire defense force.”

“I suppose it’s lucky we’ve got a psion of our own,” Van Doorn commented. “Can Patricia…shield soldiers from the potential effects?”

“She probably could,” Nartha answered, trying to explain as carefully as possible. “But unfortunately I’m not a psionic, and do not know how to even begin such a process. But the good news is that she’ll likely sense if she’s being psionically influenced.”

“What about that trick you used?” The Commander asked, straightening up and crossing his arms.

“Even if the soldiers could master it _immediately_ after I told them, it wouldn’t do anything,” Nartha explained. “That only works if the psionic doesn’t know you’re there. Not to mention the Hive Commander would not even be hindered by such a simple trick. These creatures are _powerful_ , Commander. You can’t underestimate them.”

“We won’t,” the Commander promised, looking down at the holotable. “Thunder Team is almost at the coordinates. Once we land we’ll be receiving armor cam footage. You’ll watch it and tell us anything out of the ordinary or answer questions we have. Clear?”

Nartha nodded. “Perfectly, Commander.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Time to see what the sectoids are doing.”

***

_Skyranger 1, En route to Alien Base coordinates_

“I can’t believe he was…one of them…” Samuel muttered quietly as they sped across the sky. He was still clearly unable to state the obvious. All of them were still processing the Commander’s update, as well as questioning…well, a lot of things.

“You heard the Commander,” Alexei said, resting his arms on his legs as he leaned forward. “We can’t blame ourselves for that. Seriously. He _looked_ perfectly human.”

“Maybe, but it could have been far worse,” Samuel protested. “If something had happened…”

“But it didn’t,” Creed finally said, leaning back into the skyranger seat. “I don’t know why, but…he did surrender.”

Something Patricia had been thinking about since the revelation. She’d been there when Soran, or _Nartha_ as he’d called himself and he’d seemed to be telling the truth when he’d explained himself. Although she wasn’t sure how much she should say now, since the Commander likely had his own plans to distribute the information. Creed had asked for details and she’d just shook her head and told him she wasn’t authorized.

She’d been a little blindsided by the sudden promotion, but flattered as well, though it was subdued after everything that had happened. The Commander had promised to bring her up to speed on the higher levels of XCOM after she returned from the assault. Even with everything going on, she was still cautiously excited to learn about the stuff that the soldiers didn’t know. The Commander _was_ one of the most transparent military leaders she’d ever known, but every command had secrets that were kept from the regular soldiers.

When she’d been initially transferred to XCOM, she hadn’t expected…well, anything like this. Definitely not becoming psionic and _certainly_ not becoming part of the Commander’s Internal Council. She was good at her job, yes, but she’d never thought, or hoped, to be promoted so high. She’d asked if she’d be restricted from combat missions and the Commander had assured her that she would not be.

A relief, since she might have refused if that was a condition. This was where she belonged, and from how sincere the Commander had been when telling her that, as well as his emotions and body language, she believed he held the same opinion about himself. In his case, it was understandable. The Commander couldn’t be risked, and she wondered how hard he’d fought to go on the Mercado Estate assault.

Although, knowing how he worked, he’d probably just said he was going and that was that.

She suddenly felt unreasonably tight and looked down at her hands to see them clutched into fists. She then realized that she was physically reacting to what everyone here was feeling. Tense, tight, on edge. Not really unexpected, and it varied from soldier to soldier. The newer ones, Fakhr, Maria, Lautaro, they were much less intense than the ones who’d actually known and worked with Nartha.

They were still talking, and she’d lost track of the conversation but knew that it needed to end before they got too much farther. They needed to be completely focused on what she knew would be a hard fight. “He did it because he thinks we have a chance.”

They all looked at her.

“What?” Alexei asked.

“Why he turned himself in,” she said wearily. “You wondered, and that’s a reason why. It also helped that the propaganda he’d been told about humans didn’t match from what he saw with us.”

“How do you know?” Samuel demanded, his helmet not hiding the intensity she felt from him.

“I was there when he was questioned,” Patricia said. “We need to focus now. We can discuss or worry about this _later_. We can’t let this distract us, otherwise that’s going to get us hurt or killed. Got it?”

She felt some resignation from all of them, even as they nodded, but they did relax a little which she was grateful for. She rested her hand on the cylinder on her belt which contained the outsider shard. Nartha had said that the signature it emanated would be essentially an all-clear signal which would open the door and let them enter the base.

 _“This is the Commander to Thunder Team,”_ the Commander said, his voice back to the professional they knew well. _“You’re close to the coordinates, and once inside the alien base, you will be entering uncharted territory.”_

 _“What should we expect?”_ Carmelita asked from the second skyranger.

 _“I’ve decided to use Soran to provide us information on what we might find,”_ the Commander said. All of them looked at each other, and Patricia felt a wave of distrust ripple through the skyranger. Personally, she was glad he was using Nartha. He undoubtedly knew what they’d find better than them. _“This base is under the control of the sectoids. So expect mostly sectoids, mechtoids and outsiders.”_

 _“But your greatest concern will be what Soran has designated as the ‘Hive Commander,’”_ Vahlen interjected. Interesting. Patricia couldn’t remember her ever observing combat operations before. _“From his descriptions, it’s an old and psionically powerful sectoid. Much more so than any encountered previously. We are unsure of it’s actual power, but there is a good chance that it will try to psionically influence or control you. Be wary and careful, because the thoughts you have might not be yours.”_

As if on command, all of the soldiers in the skyranger turned to look at her. “Is that possible, Overseer?” Maria asked, her voice tight. The Ukrainian was still getting used to everything, but she’d so far been very composed despite how hectic things had been since she’d arrived. Mind control had probably not something she’d had to worry about in the Berkut.

“Mind control? Yes, I know it is,” Patricia said softly. “I’ve done it before, and if this Hive Commander is as powerful as me, it can probably do the same thing.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a way to block it?” Afif asked, clasping his hands together. “Or at least mitigate it?”

“Not that I know of,” Patricia shook her head. “The only thing I can suggest is keeping the possibility in the back of your mind. Mind manipulation is insidious and is almost unstoppable, especially if you don’t realize it,” Patricia flexed her hands. “I might be able to sense it if one of you is being influenced…but I don’t know if that will work. We have to watch each other, make sure we’re all acting normally.”

 _“A good plan,”_ the Commander agreed. _“Once you get the door open, you’ll likely drop into a hanger of sorts. It’s also possible it’s being used as a storage area as well. Expect immediate resistance and secure the base.”_

“What about captives?” James asked.

 _“Keep all possible captives in their cells,”_ the Commander ordered. _“Do not release any until the base is clear. We don’t know what the sectoids have done to them, and it’s highly possible that they’re compromised. Do not listen to anything they say, no matter how much they plead.”_

“I can always verify to make sure,” Patricia suggested. “I might be able to sense psionic tampering. I know what to look for.”

 _“Do that if they have information,”_ the Commander amended. _“But do not free them. Those orders stand. Understood?”_

“Yes, Commander,” Patricia confirmed.

 _“Good. I will keep updating you based on new information,”_ the Commander finished. _“Good luck. Citadel Commander, out.”_

 _“This is Big Sky to Thunder Team,”_ Big Sky said over the comms. _“We’re approaching the LZ now. Fallen Sky, maintain flight until the hanger doors are open. Overseer Trask will secure the initial area.”_

 _“Copy, Big Sky,”_ Fallen Sky confirmed. _“Maintaining flight.”_

“Prepare to deploy!” Patricia ordered, standing up and heading to the end of the skyranger. “Weapons at the ready in case they have defenses!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted and she felt their initial tenseness, shock and confusion fade away as determination, resolve and fury set in. They were ready to take revenge for the thousands of humans who’d died or been abducted. Today would be another day they struck a blow to the aliens, one they wouldn’t forget.

The altitude fell and the skyranger shook as it landed on the ground. The ramp descended with a hiss onto the sandy dunes. “Deploy!” She ordered. “Weapons ready!”

They charged out with their weapons raised onto the desolate and abandoned desert. Sand dunes extended as far as she could see, except for one oddly flat square area. She motioned them forward, and they took cautious steps towards that direction. She had them surround where the square was and she cautiously stepped onto it and slammed her foot down.

A muffled _clang_ echoed up to her and she looked up and nodded at them. “This is it. Search for the hidden sensor.” They all nodded and quickly scoured the nearby area. After a few minutes of searching Alexei waved her over and motioned for her to kneel down and look at a dull gray device he’d uncovered.

It was unremarkable, plain, and didn’t have any visible markings, panels or buttons. It was a cylinder that seemed buried in the ground which only extended a foot or so up. Easily covered and protected. It might just be a sensor, so she pulled out the outsider shard which glowed a faint orange, encased in whatever containment field Vahlen had made.

 _Here goes nothing_. She waved it over the device and waited. Nothing happened at first, but a half-minute later, the flat area that had seemingly been desert opened up. Two panels slid into the sides, sand spilling down into the hidden base. Patricia looked down into the dark abyss, and saw faint pulsing lights on the bottom.

“Base is open,” she confirmed. “We’re ready to enter.”

 _“Copy that, Overseer,”_ Fallen Sky said. _“Commencing deployment now. Grab onto the ropes once the second team is inside.”_

“Will do,” Patricia agreed as the skyranger became visible and hovered over the opening. “Let’s get to work.”

***

_Sectoid Hive, Hangar Entrance_

Patricia slid down the rope and landed on the ground with a soft thud. She quickly looked over the soldiers behind her and did a quick head count. Everyone was here, and Myra towered over everyone in the back. Good. Time to move out.

Now she turned around and took a quick look at her surroundings. Already she was reminded of the Dreadnought. The walls were the shimmering alien metal, and the faint pulsing that she remembered was stronger than she’d ever felt before. It wasn’t lit well, and the only purplish lights came from some small ones attached to the wall, which also helped brighten the room as the metal reflected it.

Directly and front of them was a multi-colored shimmering shield, like the ones on the UFOs and Dreadnought. It was about the size of a typical garage door, but would be easily big enough for all of them to get through. She sincerely hoped that the sectoids weren’t waiting for them on the other side, since there was almost no cover before the entrance and she couldn’t see beyond it.

“Maria, Samuel, get into position on the corners,” she ordered, weapon raised as they approached the entrance. Her reasoning being that their gunners would be able to provide covering fire for the rest of them to get into position.

“Copy, Overseer,” Samuel confirmed as he took position on the left, and Maria on the right.

“Sarah, James, Carmelita, get ready to charge in,” Patricia added as she let the barrel of her autorifle fall to the ground as she prepared to try and sense what was beyond. “Everyone else do the same. Maria and Samuel will provide covering fire once the door is open. Let me see what’s beyond.”

As she felt her senses dull as she mentally probed the area, she noted the three assaults going up right before the door and falling to one knee, weapons raised. Creed and Afif stood at each of her sides, protecting her as she worked. The rest of them either took a firm stance or fell to one knee as well, weapons all pointed at the entrance.

She closed her eyes and pushed outward. What immediately hit here was that there were a _lot_ of quiet minds in the next room. Like sleeping…but even quieter. Sleeping people had bursts of activity, usually from dreams, but this was just _flat_. Human?

No…wait.

She could sense distinct minds now, those that felt _nothing_ like humans. It was less individual minds, and more like one mind with several different points. She nodded to herself in her trance. That would line up with what Nartha had told them, of them communicating telepathically, and with them being clones, it might follow that they had the same thought patterns as well.

She hesitated before trying to get a better read. Sectoids were psionic, so there was a distinct possibility that they would sense her and they’d lose the element of surprise. So instead she just hovered around the immediate area and also noticed a subtle difference between the alien minds. Several were…less active. _Psionically_ active. She could sense the sectoids were psionic, but there were much less so.

Probably Mechtoids, since they’d never seen evidence of psionic activity from them. “There are a lot of sleeping people inside,” she muttered in her trance, her voice to her sounding underwater. “I think they’re human. There are fifteen sectoids, and I think four mechtoids...” she scowled. “Possibly outsiders, but I can’t sense them.”

“Understood,” Carmelita muttered. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Wait for it,” Patricia cautioned, raising a fist as she formulated her attack. The Mechtoids might not sense her, which meant she might be able to use it. She clutched her fist, as she’d learned it helped with visualizing what she was doing. She charged directly into the mind of one of the quiet alien minds and found herself in what seemed to be shifting, shimmering purple ball.

She grimaced as the random flashes of the alien language disoriented her, she raised a hand and willed everything to stop. She knew she couldn’t begin to understand what was going on in this mind. Inserting commands in English _might_ work, but it would be instantly recognizable and would depend on the mechtoids understanding English to begin with.

No. In this case all she needed was a feeling.

 _Terror_. One simple emotion that overrode everything else. And what was a better motivator than self-preservation? So she focused on one phrase, pushing it again and again until she saw the flashes around her become more intense.

_“You are going to die.”_

“Patricia?” Creed’s voice.

She snapped back into the real world with a start. She placed a hand to her head as she readjusted to simply feeling emotions. “What was that?” He asked.

A sudden squeal and the sound of plasma fire suddenly filled the area in the distance. “Our opening,” she said, hoisting her autorifle up and aiming at the entrance. “Go in now!”

Maria tapped the multicolored barrier and it dissipated with a static buzz. Carmelita, James and Sarah charged in and Patricia led the charge for the second wave. Fortunately the sectoids were meticulous and highly organized.

Metal boxes were stacked in neat rows in the room, and there was a multitude of symmetrical pillars holding up the dull ceiling. On the far left wall were dozens of pods containing green liquid stacked to the ceiling and on the right everything was empty, and was also where the majority of the sectoids were.

“Covering fire!” Samuel called as he fired towards the compilation of sectoids and mechtoids who scattered instantly. One was hit and fell with a squeal but the rest managed to get into cover. Patricia stormed over to one of the crates and leaned her back against it and peeked out to get a look at the forces they faces before the plasma started raining.

The panicked mechtoid had killed three of the sectoids before being killed itself. Minus the one Samuel had killed, the rest were spreading out and beginning to rain plasma on the XCOM soldiers who were taking cover behind pillars and boxes themselves.

The three remaining mechtoids were spreading out evenly through the room as well, each one seeming to target an area and lock it down with a barrage of plasma lances. No outsiders, not yet thankfully.

“Moving up!” Maria yelled.

“Covering fire out!” Galia confirmed as she laid down fire on some sectoids which allowed Maria to get to a pillar on the far right. Unlike the previous times, Galia was without Aluma since Patricia hadn’t wanted to risk the dog unnecessarily since they had no idea how the alien base affected animals.

Patricia swung out of cover and let loose a barrage of gauss fire at the mechtoid closest to her. Several rounds hit with a thud but she immediately fell back as the green plasma flew past her face, far too close for comfort.

“Mordecai! Lock down the right mechtoids!” She ordered as she saw him take the far back position Samuel had been.

“With pleasure,” he affirmed as he raised his sniper rifle. “Targeting the weapons.”

The bang of his gauss sniper rifle rang out even through the loud fire of the other weapons. The mechtoid cannon attached to its right arm suddenly began leaking green smoke. “Maria! Now!”

Both gunners fired on the weakened mechtoid and this time hit it squarely in the chest and head. The alien mech stumbled back and fell to one mechanical knee. One of the sectoids nearby stopped firing and began consolidating purple energy around it’s head.

“Psionics!” She called out. “Take it out!”

“Patricia! We’re locked down here!” Lautaro called out from the left. She scowled and looked over to see the majority of the soldiers being locked down by the mechtoids. Myra was getting focused on by the sectoids themselves and was unable to get a good shot.

“Smoke the room!” She ordered, figuring it would allow everyone to move.

“Copy!” Lautaro called and tossed two smoke grenades towards the line of XCOM soldiers. The pink smoke rose around her and she quickly set her helmet to filter it out. Eden tossed several more smoke grenades to the sectoid line which were momentarily hidden by a sudden cloud of pink smoke.

Patricia knew that now was their chance, which meant she had to take one of her own now. She let her autorifle fall to the ground and clenched her fists and she concentrated on the soldiers around her. Time slowed down as her power gathered as she mentally synched her soldiers together, now all of them knew where each sectoid was and what they had to do.

With her directed clairvoyance, all the soldiers acted as one. Carmelita jumped up into the air, propelling herself to the far back of the room behind the mechtoid line. James, Sarah and Alexei each took the opportunity to begin encircling the room, taking flanking positions and immediately began firing.

Myra took advantage of the lull in sectoid fire and charged directly into the sectoid line and raised her left wrist and sprayed out a fine mist against the center of the sectoids who squealed in terror as the cloud touched them. Patricia was somewhat surprised but suddenly gathered what it was from Myra’s mind.

Acid.

The rest of the soldiers took better cover and continued firing on the sectoids. The ones enveloped in the acidic cloud squealed and shrieked as they began dissolving into gray and yellow liquid. Myra prepared to unleash another volley but now the mechtoids focused on her and she stumbled back, smoke rising from her armor as a barrage of plasma fire slammed into her.

 _“Falling back,”_ she informed them as she raised her laser weapon and began firing back. Patricia broke the mind link with them once the pressure in her mind became too unbearable and gritted her teeth as she picked up her autorifle again.

She swung her weapon out again and looked at the mechtoid nearby who which was somehow still alive. But now a transparent, faintly purple shield enveloped it as it shot green gouts of plasma at Maria, preventing any sort of retaliation.

“Outsiders!” Creed called and she looked to the far back where he was pointing.

Four of the orange crystalline aliens walked in, wielding plasma rifles as calmly surveyed the room. Carmelita, who was still firing from the back, was now very exposed.

“Get out of there, Carmelita!” She ordered as she began firing on the shielded mechtoids.

 _“Yeah,”_ she answered, as she pulled something from her belt. _“But not before a parting gift.”_ She tossed a small grenade towards the group of outsiders who began running towards the fight. It exploded with the black symbiote substance, immobilizing two of them. Carmelita took a running leap and jumped back to the safety of XCOM lines.

Ok, that would slow them down for a moment. A shriek and brief explosion caught her attention and she looked towards the middle to see one of the mechtoids explode and fall to the ground, leaking oil and blood. She also noticed that most of the sectoids were dead, and the remaining three were heading behind the outsiders.

“Fakhr! Take out the trapped ones!” She ordered, seeing the outsiders trying to free themselves by shooting the substance with their rifles. “Creed! Eden! Covering fire!”

The two of them began laying down a lethal spread of gauss fire as Fakhr fell to one knee and raised her rocket launcher. “Lining up the shot!” She yelled. “Firing!”

The rocket sped to the two outsiders in a second and lit them up with a brilliant explosion that shook the ground. Fakhr had also managed to get one of the sectoids as well. Fortunately the one who was also providing the psionic shield to the damaged mechtoids as well.

More gauss shots rang out from behind her and she saw that mechtoids fall to the ground, two bullet holes in the head that leaked out golden blood. Mordecai. Excellent. The two living outsiders were apparently realizing they couldn’t win and began backing up, still firing their plasma weapons and moving quickly enough so none of the soldiers got a clear shot.

“Don’t let them escape!” Patricia called as she charged forward, firing her autorifle towards their general direction. The final mechtoid was severely damaged now and had no idea where to fire, so Myra took the opportunity and charged forward and slammed into the alien mech, which fell onto it’s back. She raised her metal foot and slammed it down on the mechtoids head, crushing the metal and flesh with the sound of crumpling steel and squishing.

“Leave them to me!” Carmelita called and leapt towards the outsiders and landed right next to the leftmost one. It turned to deal with her but she unloaded the full contents of her alloy cannon into it’s face, shattering the crystal skin that protected it. She kicked the disintegrating body towards the last outsider, throwing it off-balance as she cocked her alloy canon again and fired at the chest.

The outsider, with cracks in the armor, fell to one knee from the force of the blast, and was ultimately killed by one more shot to the head from Carmelita.

The room fell silent.

“Everyone reload,” she ordered, not wanting to move until everyone was ready. Once everyone confirmed they were good to go, she motioned Maria and Samuel to take up positions on the far exit and had Creed, Galia and Nazar set up as well in case something else came in.

She looked up to see if the ceilings were clear, and seeing nothing on the bare metal, looked around the room. “Let’s see what’s here,” she ordered. “Iosif, Sarah, let’s check the pods.” Their Russian battle medic and Canadian scout rushed over to her and they went over to the wall of pods.

Upon closer inspection there were definitely people inside. “I guess this is where they’ve been taking the abductees,” Sarah muttered sadly as she put a hand on one of the pods. “Though not really unexpected.”

“No,” Patricia agreed. “There must be hundreds in this rooms alone. Stored here until needed.”

“I don’t see an interface,” Iosif said as he knelt down and began feeling the pods over. “Each pod looks self-contained though. They might be alive.”

Patricia put a hand on the pod in front of her and concentrated. Yes, they were definitely in some kind of stasis. “They’re not dead,” she confirmed. “I can sense that much. They don’t seem to be aware. It’s like a coma.”

“For long-term storage,” Iosif nodded. “Makes sense. Let’s hope there are some records showing how to extract them safely. I don’t want to kill any accidentally.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Patricia said, turning towards the exit leading further into the base. “The important thing is that we’ve just saved hundreds of lives. But we need to clear the rest of the base first.”

“Wait!” James suddenly explained. “Did you hear that?”

All of them fell silent and Patricia didn’t hear anything at first, then after a few more seconds the sounds reached her ears. “Crying,” she muttered as she walked forward.

“It sounds like babies,” Galia added uncertainly. “But that can’t be right…”

“The Hive Commander may be trying to unnerve us,” Patricia growled as she felt for some sign of psionic tampering.

 _“I’m not sure of that, Overseer,”_ the Commander interjected. _“We’re picking it up too. Unless the Hive Commander is influencing us as well, it seems to be real.”_

Now _that_ was disconcerting. Patricia wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to find the source, but they didn’t have a choice. If there _were_ children here, they needed to help them. “Form up and let’s follow the sound,” she ordered, walking up to the exit. “Be wary for a trap.”

***

_Sectoid Hive, Hallways_

The wailing was much more audible now, and it set Patricia on edge.

The hallways were actually fairly open, though there was no cover whatsoever. They were also inexplicably better lit despite there not being any obvious lights. It was essentially a really long tunnel. They’d gone down the right side, since that was where the crying was coming from, and the further they went, the more uncomfortable she felt.

It wasn’t just in her head either. All of them felt it; the dull throbbing that had only become more evident once the rush of adrenaline faded. She wondered if it was worse for her because she was psionic and was more sensitive to alien tech. Whatever. She just wished this throbbing in her head would fade.

“Do you really think they have children here?” Nazar asked quietly, his weapon raised as he looked around cautiously.

“Probably,” James answered with a shrug. “The aliens didn’t discriminate as far as I know.”

“I’m more worried about why they’re crying,” Fakhr added slowly. “I don’t think they’re being treated well.”

“Door ahead,” Mordecai noted and Patricia raised a fist.

They all froze and pointed their weapons at it. It was set up exactly like the others; a shimmering multicolor barrier. It was much smaller than the other one, but still large enough for them to get through. Myra might have trouble, though. “Let me see what’s there,” Patricia said and closed her eyes again as she focused into the nearby room.

And nearly screamed as it felt like a screw was being driven into her skull. She stumbled back into Creed who quickly steadied her. “What happened?” He demanded.

“Pain,” she gasped. “I should have felt it earlier. I think this place is interfering with my senses. We need to get in there now.”

Carmelita motioned them forward while Patricia gathered herself again, hoisted her autorifle and steadied her weapon toward the center. Fakhr and James were set on the entrance edges and at a nod from her, reached over and popped the barrier.

The reaction from the other room was instantaneous. The twelve or so sectoids in the room looked up from various tables, pods and computers and were immediately met with a hail of gauss and laser fire. Seven were killed outright and the rest scrambled back but barely lasted more than a few more seconds as James, Carmelita and Alexei charged in to finish the job.

Alexei gunned one down in the back. James shredded the leg of one and finished the crawling creature on the ground with another blast. Carmelita leapt in front of the last one and unceremoniously blew it’s head to nothing with the alloy cannon. Patricia herself ripped one apart as it tried to flee backwards.

She quickly swept her weapon around looking for more threats, but saw none. “We’re clear,” she muttered as she looked around. “Everyone in here now.”

Patricia led the rest of them inside and she immediately sucked in her breath as she looked around the room. It was slightly smaller in size than the storage area they’d come through, though not by much. On the right side of the room were what appeared to be metal pods of some kind spaced evenly down the room to the end.

There were little table by them, all containing bloody medical instruments. In the middle of the rooms were large square tables, each with backlit top. Also on each was the body of a human. They were clearly dead, but each body had a different part dissected, one an arm, another a leg and so on.

On the other side looked like a bunch of alien lab equipment, including a large computer that she didn’t even how to begin operating. Beside it was a strange-looking contraption that she didn’t have the faintest initial clue of what it could be. In the far back corners she saw something that looked like pods or cells. But what grabbed her attention in all this was what was covering the walls on the left side of the room.

“God,” Galia muttered in horror. “Look at them all.”

Set up on the walls were dozens of little transparent glass containers, each one containing a human baby. But these weren’t regular, normal or healthy babies. They were abominations; deformed twisted versions of human children. The limbs were disproportionate, had extra digits, or simply lacked them to begin with.

Patricia shivered as she saw a baby with no eyes or mouth. “They’re growing them,” she whispered. “ _Us.”_

“For what, though?” Iosif demanded furiously as he stormed over to the wall, fist clenched. “This is…this is…”

“In case the invasion fails,” Creed suggested softly. “Why wouldn’t the aliens try to grow their own human soldiers? We’re exactly what they want.”

Patricia turned back to the entrance. “Myra, watch the outside. We’re looking around here for a moment.”

_“Yes, Overseer.”_

“Overseer?” Lautaro said hesitantly. “I think you should look at this.”

Patricia walked over to where he was and pursed her lips at what she saw. Four glass cells, each containing a human within them. But all of them were different in some way. One had his arms altered so much they looked like hybrids of sectoid and human skins and flesh; another woman’s face had been altered so much it no longer seemed human, more like a rodent. One man seemed unaltered, but was just standing up straight, a happy smile on his face as he looked sightlessly beyond her.

“What should we do?” Lautaro asked quietly.

Patricia shook her head. “Nothing we can do right now.” Upon closer inspection it seemed that the test subjects were apparently oblivious to anything around them. “Don’t disturb them.”

“Uh, Overseer,” Maria said grimly, walking up. “I’ve found where the crying was coming from.”

Patricia motioned everyone to keep looking around and went over to the far corner were Maria was. She froze when she saw what was at the end, a small square about the height of the tables where the distinct sound of crying was coming from. Steeling herself, she walked forward and after taking a deep breath, looked down.

“Jesus,” she breathed in horror. It was much worse than she’d imagined or feared. The hole was filled with…she didn’t know how many of those failed human experiments, failures that the aliens had just abandoned.

It was a sight she’d never forget. A mass grave of babies that were filled the pit, the abominations wriggled around in the pit like worms or maggots, still alive, still conscious, and still crying. She felt the sour bile rise in her throat and abruptly turned away. She wasn’t an overly disturbed person…but that…that was genuinely horrifying.

“I guess that’s what they do when they’re finished,” Maria muttered in stunned and disgusted tones. “Just throw them in a pit until…”

 _“They do kill them,”_ Nartha’s voice interjected. _“But only to use them again.”_

Patricia wasn’t even concerned he was speaking. “Just tell me. I need to know.”

That pause must have been deliberate. _“Sectoids are a practical species, Patricia. They don’t value individuality like you do. Each of them is nothing but a tool and they view others the same way. Those disfigured human babies you found are discarded, but that pit you saw will reduce them to organic matter for the sectoids to use in another experiment.”_

“Practical,” she spat. “Right.” She walked over to one of the pods attached to the wall and looked inside. It was designed somewhat like a coffin, if it was metal, more curved and covered the face. In it was a naked human male, or what was left of him. It looked as though they were trying to take out his intestines…

No…

She sucked in her breath as she spotted something she should have earlier. The chest was rising and falling ever so slightly. He was still _alive_! She quickly pulled out her pistol aimed it at the where the head was under the pod.

“What are you doing?” Iosif gasped running up to her.

“They’re still alive!” She spat, pointing at the man. “I’m not going to let them suffer anymore!”

“Maybe we can help them,” Iosif suggested. “We’re in control now-“

“And would you like to be ‘saved’ now?” Patricia demanded. “You can’t _recover_ from something like this!”

“And what if you’re wrong?” He demanded. “Then you’ve just killed someone out of a misguided sense of mercy!”

“I…” she gritted her teeth as a sharp pain stabbed into her head. “I…Commander, what should I do?”

There was a pause. _“Are they conscious?”_ The Commander asked.

Patricia looked down at the man and focused on his mind. Just the faintest touch was enough for her to whimper and she took a step back. “He can feel _everything._ ”

 _“Then put them out of their misery,”_ he ordered. _“We won’t learn anything from them.”_

Patricia raised her pistol and fired and the chest stopped rising. Several of the other soldiers had also walked over to the other pods and repeated the same grim task. As Carmelita, Maria and Mordecai executed the tortured test subjects, she noticed Eden standing over one, her helmet off and aiming her pistol at the test subject.

Patricia frowned and walked over to her, as she’d just been standing there, not moving for nearly half a minute. As she got closer she got worried as she saw tears on her face. Oh, not good. Not _now_. “Hey,” she demanded, trying to keep calm. “Get it together, Eden. We’re going to make them pay.”

“What’s the point?” Eden muttered tonelessly, her eyes never looking away from the body. “One base. One alien. They won’t stop. They’ll just keep coming.”

Now Patricia was really concerned. “Don’t talk like that-“

“You don’t get it,” Eden interrupted in the same toneless voice, her arm falling to her side. “There’s only one way out for us.”

Patricia’s eyes widened and she moved to stop her but was hit with a sudden sharp pain in her head. No…this wasn’t normal. She had to stop it, she could _sense_ it now!

“I’ll see you soon, sister,” Eden said, raising the pistol again, this time under her chin.

“Stop her!” Patricia shouted as the pain intensified, she heard soldiers running her way. “She’s-“

_Bang._

The pain faded and Patricia shakily righted herself and looked at…Eden’s body. She looked up at Nazar and Galia who stood over it. They’d failed to stop her. “Fuck!” She growled, storming to them. “Why didn’t anyone _stop_ her? Why was I the only _one_ who saw it?!”

“I _did_ see it!” Galia shouted back. “But I thought you’d handle it…” her voice trailed off. “I…I was _sure_ you’d handle it.”

Patricia went cold as she _got_ what Galia was getting at. She looked around the room and all the soldiers echoed the same shock she felt. _“What happened?”_ The Commander demanded.

“I think,” Patricia swallowed as she looked around the room. “I think the Hive Commander forced Eden to kill herself. I felt some psionic influence on her and the instant I did…well, I was in pain. I think it also slowed down everyone else, delaying their reaction until it was too late.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Carmelita muttered in worry. “I felt…normal. Just…something in me said you could handle it.”

Well, this wasn’t good. Not a bit. Ignoring the fact they were now down one soldier, the possibility that it could happen to _any_ of them without them knowing was even worse. “We need to keep moving,” she said, moving to the center of the room. “We need to be focused. If we’re focused, maybe-“

“Mordecai! What are you doing?!” Samuel yelled and she immediately spun around to see Mordecai sticking his left arm into some kind of contraption that was _not_ intended for a human arm.

“Just…getting a closer look,” he said in the same listless tone Eden had used a couple minutes ago. She immediately starched out and sensed the psionic manipulation at work.

“It’s the Hive Commander!” She shouted as she ran towards him.

He shook his head briefly. “Wh-oh, shi-“

He screamed as the contraption closed in on itself, crushing the arm instantly with a crunch. “It’s pulling me in,” he shouted, his voice echoing in pain as the arm was slowly pulled forward. “Cut it off!”

“On it!” Iosif yelled, running forward, his hand already holding the laser pistol. He took a brief second to aim and fired a sustained beam aimed downward. Another second later it cleanly sliced through the arm, just above the elbow. Mordecai collapsed to the ground, panting and whimpering in pain as Iosif knelt down beside him and pulled out the med-kit.

“I just…I just felt like there was something I needed to see at the end,” he tried explaining to Patricia as she knelt down beside him. “It’s irrational, I know…but it seemed normal to me. It felt _right_.”

She looked up at the contraction that had pulled the rest of his arm in. They needed to get out of this room now, otherwise someone else was going to get hurt or die to the Hive Commander. And she was becoming increasingly worried she couldn't stop it.

“Can you keep going?” She asked.

She could hear the scowl in his voice. “Hell yeah. Even if I couldn’t, you can’t leave anyone alone in this place. Not while the Hive Commander is alive.”

He raised a good point. Which meant that breaking off into teams was also a bad idea. The more divided they were, the easier it would be for the Hive Commander to weaken them. Right now she didn’t know the extent of it’s power, but it was enough that they needed to focus on killing it as soon as possible.

“Stay with him,” she ordered Iosif, who nodded and helped Mordecai up.

“Keep moving,” she shouted as she headed for the exit. “Everyone _stay_ focused. If you even _think_ you’re being influenced, _say something_. _Especially_ if you’re sure you’re not. Got it?”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted, each of them trying to hold onto some hope.

“We’ll return for Eden after the Hive Commander is dead,” she promised, looking at the corpse of the once-happy woman. She raised her autorifle. “Let’s head down the other hallway. Proceed with caution.”

***

_Sectoid Hive, Hallways_

They kept walking until they reached the beginning storage room and continued on. All of them were used to the low hum and pulsing of the base, but now she was hearing things, all of them were. Whispers, noises, things that were intangible but they _knew_ were there. All of them had reported hearing things and the Commander had confirmed that this time it was all in their head.

_You are a child. You wield power you cannot begin to comprehend._

Patricia winced as that thought was accompanied by a sharp pain. Was that the Hive Commander? Or her own frustration and inability to utilize her power to the fullest. _No_. She growled in her mind, gritting her teeth. That voice wasn’t hers. It was Creed’s, and he wasn’t taking to her. He was by her side, weapon raised and completely focuses on the mission ahead.

_“Are you sure?”_

Now Creed turned his head towards her, his helmet obscuring his expression. “It’s talking to me,” she said, reaching down for her pistol.

“The Hive Commander?” Galia asked cautiously, looking around frantically as they stopped.

 _“This is for your eyes only, psion,”_ the figure of Creed continued, turning to face her fully. _“Your species is weak, frail and easily controlled. Even your powers can’t change that, no matter what the Elders see in you.”_

Patricia clenched her fists and sucked in her breath. “Get out of my head,” she growled, focusing on banishing the subtle psionic strands that had insidiously been working on her. She heard and felt a sharp pop and the figure of Creed vanished and she stumbled back and a hand caught her shoulder.

“Woah, you alright?” Creed asked, concern in his voice and emotions.

She looked at him, then back at the place where the figure had been. “I think so now,” she answered cautiously. “I saw you. The Hive Commander can force hallucinations.”

“I guess that’s good to know,” Mordecai wheezed, still clearly in pain from the loss of his arm. “So we clearly can’t trust everything we see.”

“No,” Patricia agreed grimly. “We can’t. Keep moving.”

They kept walking down and finally reached a fork in the hallways. “Left or right?” Samuel asked, looking from side to side.

“We’re going to have to clear the whole thing anyway,” Carmelita noted. “But we should probably find the Hive Commander first and kill it. Can you sense anything, Patricia?”

“Nowhere specific,” Patricia sighed, since she’d tried that idea earlier. “I can sense a powerful psionic here, but nothing more. It’s probably blocking me.”

“Damn it,” she muttered.

Patricia thought for a moment. Following conventional logic, the command area would probably be at the back of the base…so in that case, the right was probably the best place to go. “We go right,” she ordered and began walking in that direction.

Things proceeded for a few minutes without incident. “Woah!” Alexei shouted and fired wildly up into the ceiling and everyone fell to one knee or swung their weapons around, looking for the threat.

“What is it?” Patricia hissed at Alexei.

“Ah, nothing,” he growled, the scowl clear in his voice. “Damn Hive Commander playing tricks, I think. I saw a huge spider on the ceiling and…well, overreacted.”

“Think very carefully about what you see,” Patricia stated, calming herself down as she continued moving forward. “The next time you might shoot at one of us.”

“Yes, Overseer,” he promised. “Won’t happen again.”

She sincerely hoped not. They kept walking until Patricia spotted an entrance in the hallway. “Hold,” she ordered, raising a fist. “Carmelita, James, go check that out.”

Both of them took a position on each side of the entrance. Unlike the others, this one was actually physically closed. There was no way she could see to enter it, aside from using explosives or trying to cut it with their-

“Hey, look at this,” Iosif called, as he walked over to a little panel-like square in the wall she’d almost missed.

“Careful,” she warned, reaching out to make sure he wasn’t being psionically influenced.

He cautiously put his palm by the panel and jerked it back as a familiar purple interface she’d seen on the Dreadnought appeared. This one was almost identical, twelve alien symbols in a grid shape, with several of them shimmering.

“Interesting,” Iosif muttered. “This is a keypad?”

“Of sorts,” Patricia answered. “They had them on the Dreadnought. There’s a pattern that needs to be pressed before something happens.”

“Let me try something,” he muttered and she blinked quickly several times as he pressed the shimmering sequence she’d seen. Which meant….

The door opened with a groan and hiss as it lifted into the ceiling. “That seemed to do it,” Iosif said, stepping back in satisfaction, though appeared initially disconcerted as he saw her looking at him intently. “Is something wrong?”

“That sequence you pressed,” she said slowly. “Why did you do it?”

“Several of the keys were glowing,” he answered. “Brighter than the others. I…It was mostly a guess, honestly. But I knew it had to be those keys.”

Patricia hesitated. “I see. I suppose this means you’re psionically sensitive as well.”

He started. “What?”

“Only psions can see the shimmering keys,” Patricia explained. “Probably a failsafe the sectoids didn’t think anyone would be able to pass. Problem was that some humans can, I was going to do it, but…well, you preempted me.”

He looked down at his hand. “Uh…what happens next-“

“Nothing will happen for a few hours,” she assured him. “But we should probably finish up. Let’s see what’s in this room.”

As they moved inside, she took a moment to focus on Iosif who was now emotionally rattled. That was not good and she couldn’t risk a panic attack or something similarly debilitating right now. So instead she simply pressed one emotion on him… _calm_.

_Everything is going to be fine._

She hoped that would be enough, but little time to make sure, and she joined the rest of the soldiers in walking into the new room. Nazar spoke for all of them once they saw what was inside. “Woah.”

The room was filled with massive generator-like structures, each emanating a green glow and hummed audibly as they ran. They were at least as wide as her arm span and ran along the perimeter of the room that was at least as large as a football field. In the far back was another generator that was at least twice as large and everything before that were computer stations with sectoids working dutifully at them.

Above them steel catwalks ran above them, ladders at each corner leading up. To her dismay, she saw three outsiders patrolling them and they reacted instantly to them walking in. What also caught her attention were two mechtoids hanging from the ceiling.

“Check fire!” She warned as they charged forward, taking immediate cover behind some of the desks. “One of these blows and we all die!”

The outsiders knew that as well, since their initially volley of plasma was only directed towards the soldiers who were taking cover behind the desks. The sectoids at the rest of the interior desks were either scrambling back or returning fire.

“Fakhr! Get the catwalk!” Patricia ordered. “Creed, Nazar, Afif! Pin the outsiders in! Don’t let them move!”

“We’ll lock down the sectoids,” Samuel called out as he and Galia began moving around the room, targeting the outside sectoids and keeping them in a little illusionary box. There was a groan that came from the ceiling and those two mechtoids fell to the ground and immediately began firing at them.

The outsiders had no cover, and were faced with the choice of withstanding inaccurate gauss fire or jumping down and fighting on the ground. “Symbiote out!” Lautaro called and he tossed one of the symbiote grenades towards the outsiders. It didn’t quite make it, but the splatter as it exploded in mid-air was enough to trap their feet.

“Firing rocket!” Fakhr called and the explosive sped towards the catwalk and hit with a brilliant explosion. The catwalk groaned and parts of flaming steel fell to the ground, including one surviving outsider which hit the ground with a loud crack.

“Move up!” Patricia ordered as some of them suppressed the remaining eight sectoids while the rest charge into new positions. Myra dutifully kept the attention of the mechtoids who understandably focused on her. James executed a sectoid that didn’t manage to scramble away in time. Sarah also blew the eye out of another while Maria and Alexei shredded the frail bodies of two more.

Carmelita leapt over to the cracked outsider that was trying to get up. It never got the chance once Carmelita blasted it’s head, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Patricia grinned, things were going well and all that was left was-

She blinked as she saw a sectoid frantically tapping it’s spindly fingers on an interface. “Kill that one!” She yelled, firing furiously at the alien. Her gauss rounds tore into the computer which sparked and suddenly blew up, killing the sectoid instantly.

Myra thrust her arm forward and the mechtoid in front of her was engulfed in an acidic cloud and stumbled back, shrieking. Maria and Samuel quickly tore it apart with concentrated fire and it collapsed to the ground.

Myra then charged the remaining mechtoid, slammed into it and then blasted it with her laser weapon as it stumbled back. Several shots later it also collapsed to the ground, smoke and sparks rising from the corpse, while Myra then scanned the rest of the room, looking for additional threats.

Iosif killed the last sectoid and all went quiet. Patricia quickly reloaded and looked around the room. Whatever the sectoid had been trying to do, it appeared to have failed. “Area secure,” she said. “Everyone alright?”

They all answered with an affirmative and spread out into the room to get a better look at everything. “See if anyone can get onto the computers,” she suggested as she looked around the room.

“What do you think they are?” Fakhr asked, walking up beside her.

“This is probably the power room?” Patricia guessed. “Though I’m not sure with what, exactly.”

 _“Elerium,”_ Nartha answered _“That’s what powers all alien tech. Very efficient and useful, but extremely volatile.”_

She walked up to one of the green pulsing generators, taking a closer look. “Good to know.”

 “Patricia! Come over here!”

She jogged over to where Alexei was standing over a computer. “I have no idea what it’s saying,” he said excitedly, pointing at the purple holographic screen which was divided into tiles again, each with alien markings on them. “But I think I’m inside!”

“Congratulations, fellow psion,” Iosif commented dryly as he walked up. “All the computers have the same security as the door. You cracked it, so I guess that means you’ll be reading minds soon.”

“It’s not all like that,” Patricia sighed, raising a hand to cut him off. “But he’s right. If that’s how you got in, you’re a psionic now.”

“Oh,” he said in a small voice, the excitement gone. “That’s…good, I guess.”

“Count me too,” Galia added quietly as she walked up. “I just got onto another of the computers. Don’t ask me how I knew.”

Ok, this base needed to be cleared out so everything could be sorted out. “We’ll go through everything later,” she promised, realizing she was going to have an enormous task ahead of her. “But we should move on. Try not to think about it too much. Everything will be normal for a while yet.”

She could feel them growing apprehensive, which was only exuberated as they looked at each other warily. But the good news was that unlike her, they’d at least have some guidance about what was going to happen, and be able to help each other along the way. “We should keep moving before the Hive Commander tries to have us blow ourselves up,” Galia finally suggested, looking towards the exit. “Let’s finish this.”

***

_Sectoid Hive, Deep Interior_

They kept going down the hallway, and Patricia believed they were heading in the right direction. The pulsing was much stronger now, the hum clearly audible, and most telling, she could sense the Hive Commander much better now.

And it frankly terrified her.

It _knew_ where they were. It knew they were coming. And it seemed content to let them pass. She’d tried probing the mass of psionic energy but had been laughably rebuffed from learning anything meaningful, receiving sharp stabs of mental agony in return.

 _Sloppy, unrefined, weak._ Those were the thoughts thrown back at her attempts. She sensed nothing but contempt, not just for her, but for all of them. After seeing this place, she supposed that the Hive Commander held a deep vendetta towards humanity.

Which she wondered about. And after wandering the hallways, pondering the words she’d heard and the things she’d seen, she’d come to the conclusion that the Hive Commander was lying, at least to them, maybe even to itself. Despite it’s words, she knew that humanity wasn’t the weak species it had derided them as. Else why experiment on humans in the first place? Why spend so much time and resources on an inferior species that would ultimately contribute nothing.

No…she now thought it was personal. Because she suspected that the Ethereals had an idea of what they were capable of, and had charged the sectoids to harness what they could from them. The idea hadn’t occurred to her immediately, but it made sense the more she thought about it, and despite the Hive Commander’s words and her inability to learn anything tangible…she’d felt it’s emotions briefly.

Fear, albeit controlled, and oddly enough…jealousy.

It hadn’t been hard to put a hypothesis together. This Hive Commander was concerned that they would be replaced or removed, supplemented by humans should the Ethereals win. The fear might go different ways, though. Fear of the disobeying the Ethereals, or fear that they would be reduced in status within the Ethereal collective.

Humans were still inferior psionically…but she knew it was only a matter of time before she could become just as strong as the Hive Commander. Armed with this knowledge, she considered how best to use it. If nothing else it might distract the Hive Commander should they need one, though she had to be careful not to underestimate it.

Because the Hive Commander was more powerful than her. She couldn’t beat it on her own.

Fortunately, she still had most of her soldiers in fighting condition, and for supposedly weak and inferior humans, they’d managed to get pretty far into the base.

 _Because you are,_ the words appeared in her mind. _No amount of rationalization will change that._

She responded by projecting her amusement. _Really, if that’s the case, then why are we winning?_

_Because I’ve let you._

And _that_ tapped into a fear that had receded slightly, but was still very much in the back of her mind. The Hive Commander had demonstrated what it could do in that experimentation room…but had otherwise held back after that. But why? Had it just been to scare them? Or were they being unintentionally led into a trap.

That was only one of two possible scenarios she’d considered. The other being that the Hive Commander wasn’t _quite_ as powerful as they’d been led to believe. Everyone had limits, even powerful psionic aliens. Maybe forcing Eden to kill herself or Mordecai to main himself had taken more out of it than it anticipated.

But…then again, she’d _felt_ the Hive Commander. She’d sensed no fatigue or anything to indicate it was weakened in any way. So she didn’t know. It could be an illusion, or perhaps the Hive Commander was simply holding back for reasons she couldn’t comprehend.

“Two barriers on the left,” Sarah noted, aiming her weapon at the multicolored barrier. “Choke points if we’re not careful.”

Patricia observed the area briefly. The two entrances were big enough for maybe two at a time to get through. It also looked like Myra wouldn’t fit unless the entrance was raised a few feet higher. Hmm. The two entrances were spaced about twenty feet apart, which made it possible that they were for different rooms.

“How many smokes do we have left?” She asked, turning towards Nazar and Lautaro.

“I’ve got one,” Nazar said, pulling it off his belt.

“Two for me,” Lautaro confirmed, reaching for one.

“I’ve got one as well,” Mordecai said, walking up. Holstering his pistol, he pulled it out and tossed it to her which she caught and smoothly placed on her own belt in one smooth motion.

“Good,” she said, turning towards the doors. “Those might be two different rooms. So we’ll have two breaches. Creed, take Nazar, Carmelita, Afif, Alexei and Maria to the far one. Everyone else with me. Get into position and wait for my signal.”

“Will do,” Creed nodded and waved his group of soldiers over by the other door.

Patricia and Lautaro took positions on the edges of the doorways, while James, Sarah and Samuel stood just behind them. Fakhr took a knee in front of the entrance and pulled out her rocket launcher in case she needed to fire it. Iosif held back with Mordecai, ensuring that they were both out of the line of fire.

“On my order, try cutting through the wall,” Patricia ordered Myra who walked up to the wall blocking the path into the room. The towering MEC gave her a sharp nod and raised her laser cannon in preparation.

 _“Acknowledged, Overseer,”_ she confirmed.

“Fakhr, how many rockets do you have left?” Patricia asked, looking back at the kneeling Palestinian.

“One regular and one of Shen’s experimental shredders,” she answered. “We should probably save the shredder for the Hive Commander.”

Patricia wasn’t quite sure what that was, but she could make some pretty accurate guesses. Just based on the name she supposed it was a more powerful AP grenade, which also meant it extremely dangerous to them as well as the aliens. “Don’t fire unless I give the order,” she stated, then looked over to where Creed was positioned. “You in position, Creed?”

“Affirmative,” he answered, completely focused on storming the room. “Just give the word.”

Patricia nodded and placed the fingertips of her left hand on the wall, a tactile move that let her focus on the immediate vicinity of the next room. She noted the sectoids immediately, there must have been at least ten of them, but what stood out was that there were…others. Other minds, alien even to what she’d sensed before now.

“There’s something else in the room,” she muttered in a trance, wincing as she tried exploring it more. Instead she was assaulted with a series of images that made no sense to her, emotions that consisted of nothing more than confusion, pain and terror. Everything seemed to be going at random speeds, emotions flipped within seconds and there was no context to anything that she glimpsed from these new minds.

It suddenly dawned on her why. Whatever was in the next room had been driven insane.

“Go now!” She ordered and tapped the barrier which dissipated within seconds.

“Smokes out!” Lautaro shouted as he tossed the canister of pink smoke into the immediate room.

“Going in!” James shouted and he and Sarah charged into the room.

Patricia immediately noted that the initial part of the room was similar to the human experimentation room from earlier. There were the experimentation pods on the right side of the room that extended to the wall. In the middle of the room were also surgery tables, where three sectoids were dissecting…something.

They scattered as the smoke hit the room, chittering as they stumbled back. Patricia suddenly noted that these sectoids didn’t have plasma blasters on like the other ones. Instead was some kind of surgery tool, with multiple needles, pincers and magnifying glasses on it. James blasted the head off of one and Sarah eviscerated the next one. The rest of them took the opportunity to charge into the room as the remaining sectoids chittered and fled further into the rooms.

Now the major differences between the two experimentation rooms became very apparent. This one was much deeper than the other room, and seemed to contain…small modules. It was odd, but each glass module appeared to be some kind of miniature ecosystem. One was filled with snow, the other sand and the last tropical.

The hell? And there was also something in them. “Three running back!” Samuel called as he unloaded at a group of sectoids in the far back. Myra also cut her way into the room, though wasn’t really needed now. One sectoid was instantly killed by Samuel’s barrage and the other two scattered. Patricia fired at the one on the left and shredded it, the bloodied corpse thrown to the ground from the force of the rounds.

Galia had also found a cowering sectoid and quickly executed it before moving on. Well, there was something new she learned today. The sectoids weren’t all fighters. These ones had clearly just been scientists or experimenters and that was why they had tried fleeing once they’d attacked.

Pity that they’d been hunted down like the animals they were.

“I think that’s the last of them,” James said as he walked around one of the glass modules. “Didn’t really put up a fight.”

“Good riddance,” Fakhr muttered. “I almost don’t want to know what they were doing.”

“Secure this room,” Patricia ordered. “Like it or not we need to know.”

They saluted and the rest of the soldiers fanned out and Patricia turned to one of the glass modules. The one that went throughout the length of the left-most wall seemed to be a desert environment. It was bright, filled with sand, rocks and a scant few trees and vegetation. She almost missed the creature in the far corner. Frowning, she walked over to that corner to get a better look.

“What is that?” Galia asked quietly as they looked at the tortured specimen inside the glass prison. It was an alien…though she had no idea if it was sentient or not. It was huddled on the ground, dirty, sandy and matted fur covering its skin, which was a gray, but now had splotches of pink. Even though it was huddled down, she could tell it was massive; even in it’s massively deteriorated form, it must have been at least as tall as her.

It’s eyes had irises like humans, but were a solid black and were focused listlessly on nothing. Unlike the rest of it’s body, there was no fur on it’s rounded face, and there were visible incisors in it’s mouth. After taking a closer look, Patricia saw that the fur color, without all of the dirt and sand, seemed to be a pure white.

She was almost surprised that it hadn’t died yet. It’s fur was falling off in great clumps and scratches marred it’s skin and face and it looked physically malnourished. “I don’t know,” Patricia finally said. “But I know it doesn’t belong there.”

 _“That is a Borelian,”_ Nartha interjected, his voice containing an underlying anger for the first time she’d heard. _“One of the Vitakara races.”_

Patricia blinked. “That’s… _your_ species?”

Galia looked over at her in surprise. “Sorry, what?”

 _“A race, yes,”_ he continued. _“This particular one adapted to harsh winter conditions over centuries. They’re some of the most scientifically driven among us, as well as the largest physically. So you can imagine that a desert would not be the best place for them.”_ He paused. _“Patricia…is she…sane?”_

Galia took a step towards the glass cage. “She?”

 _“Female Borelians have incisors and generally lighter fur,”_ Nartha explained. _“Trust me, I can tell the differences between genders in my own species, Galia.”_

Forgetting the fact that he was a spy for the aliens, Patricia was intensely curious about this race. Perhaps she might even ask him, under supervision, of course. But she gently reached out mentally towards the Borelian to see if it-

She flinched and immediately withdrew from the maelstrom of images, feelings and pain that screamed in that mind. “I don’t think she is,” Patricia told Nartha quietly. “Whoever she was before…it’s gone now.”

 _“I see,”_ his voice sounded heavier. _“In that case you must leave her in the cage. Make it more comfortable, but if you open it she will attack you. Female Borelians are dangerously aggressive.”_

“I don’t think we’d be opening them in the first place,” Patricia muttered. “But thanks. Galia, see what you can do to…well, make it colder.”

Galia nodded and walked over to a computer placed roughly in front of the middle of the module and began tapping on it. Patricia turned around to the module containing a jungle environment and imagined that there was another alien inside it, perhaps another Borelian.

“Overseer, you should come see this,” Iosif said, coming to her from the back of the room. She nodded and followed him to the back of the room where several rows of pods stacked five high were stored. She walked over and looked inside one and grimaced. Humans. So whatever they were doing here involved them as well.

“Over here.”

Patricia turned to see four…things in individual glass cells. Each one was no bigger than a five-by-five square and had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The things inside _looked_ like they’d been originally human…but they weren’t anymore. One had his entire body warped and misshapen, the normal pale skin intermixed with gray flesh; another was covered completely in some kind of fur from head to toe; the last two seemed to have had parts of their body systematically altered. It wasn’t hard to guess that had happened.

“I guess they’re doing their own experiments on integrating alien genetics into us,” Iosif said quietly. “They haven’t reacted to us…I’m not sure they’re still…there.”

Patricia looked at the vacant expressions, at least from the ones where she could see their faces, and had to agree. A quick mental examination revealed they were close. “Their minds are empty; quiet,” she said sadly. “The sectoids might have wiped their minds to make them more compliant.”

Iosif looked over. “Can you do that?”

She shrugged. “Eventually.”

On that cheery note she headed back up to the front of the room, where the experimentation pods and dissection tables were. “Creed, we’ve cleared this room. Status?”

 _“Clear,”_ he answered immediately. _“You’re going to want to see this. It’s another experimentation room.”_

“Figured,” Patricia agreed grimly, looking at the snowy module where a Borelian with all it’s fur trimmed off shivered in the cold. “We’ve found one as well. Not pretty.”

 _“No, but this one is more interesting,”_ he amended. _“It’s for sectoids.”_

Patricia blinked. “Interesting. We’ll be over in a few minutes.”

_“Got it, Creed out.”_

Now that the smoke and danger had cleared, she looked at what was on one of the experimentation tables. The thing on the middle table seemed to be another Borelian, though this one was much smaller, and the fur that wasn’t stained with blood seemed thinner. A child? At least it was dead, and it looked like the sectoids had been dissecting the throat for…well, she didn’t really know or care.

“I suppose I thought the aliens had more consideration for their own kind,” James said as he looked into one of the experimentation pods. Patricia walked over and looked down into it and winced. It was a Borelian, but the eyes had been removed and replaced by…she hated to say it, but it looked like human eyes.

“Apparently not,” Patricia agreed softly. “Creed just said they found a sectoid experimentation room.”

 _“Like I said, sectoids don’t think like we do,”_ Nartha interjected. _“Almost every species recognizes the individual on some level. Sectoids, with the exception of the Hive Commanders, don’t. They are viewed, and view themselves, as essentially little more than living, intelligent tools. They exist for specific purposes and have no emotion, desire or empathy for anything beyond what they’ve been created for.”_

“So like drones,” James suggested as he looked down. “Mindless creatures under one guiding leader.”

“In this case, the Hive Commander,” Patricia finished. “Nartha…are all the Hive Commanders like this?”

_“Cruel? Yes, though I don’t believe it is born out of malice. It’s just…who they are. I don’t think it’s their fault, they just aren’t capable of seeing others as anything more than fodder.”_

With the exception of the Ethereals of course. Patricia wondered what the Hive Commander thought of their alien masters. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the sectoids cared just as little for the Ethereals as anyone else, but didn’t act because the Ethereals were helping them or were too powerful.

She supposed this was a good indication of what happened when you stripped a species or being of any empathy whatsoever. Places like this were created.

“Lautaro? What are you doing?” Patricia turned around to see Lautaro by one of the computers in front of the modules. Samuel was walking up to him, then paused as Lautaro raised a hand.

“One moment,” he said, his voice partially toneless. “Almost done.”

Patricia sucked in her breath and a quick mental sensing of the room detected psionic influence _not_ from her. “Get him away!” She ordered, then sank to her knees as an unbearable wave of pain stabbed into her mind.

It appeared to affect the rest of them as well since James and Samuel clutched their heads and groaned. In the distance she heard Iosif and Galia shout in pain. Her vision blurry, Patricia looked up, raising a fist as she drew upon the energy to fortify her mind for the moment. Given how quickly Samuel and James were back up, she supposed the attack was probably worse for anyone psionic.

But they were too late. The door to the module slid up and Lautaro shook his head as quickly stepped back. “Oh no-“

A black-furred, massive and clearly insane Borelian slammed into him, throwing him into the glass barrier of the module behind him. James and Samuel began firing, but the massive alien was quicker than it looked and kept on its path. It slammed a foot into Lautaro’s knee, snapping it with an audible crack.

Patricia gasped as his pain rippled through her. It then grabbed him by his arms and chest and threw him across the room towards them. Patricia ignored his scream and dodged the body and raised her autorifle and unloaded a barrage of projectiles towards the insane alien.

The combined power of Samuel, James and her was enough to stop another charge, and with yellow blood dripping from multiple wounds, the Borelian collapsed to the ground with a final growl, dead.

“Iosif! Get over here,” Patricia ordered as she rushed to Lautaro. “We’ve got wounded!”

“Coming!” He answered, sounding out of breath. A few seconds later he was at Lautaro’s side who was sprawled out over the floor, his left leg completely mangles and his right arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Hold still,” he ordered as he pulled out the med-kit. “This is going to hurt.”

“Serves me right,” Lautaro groaned, gritting his teeth in pain as Iosif began setting his leg. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“The Hive Commander,” Patricia said wearily. “You weren’t.”

_“Overseer? What happened?”_

“Another attempt from the Hive Commander,” Patricia growled. “Lautaro released a specimen. He’s badly injured, but alive. Are you alright?”

 _“Fine so far,”_ he answered. _“Though we’re all on edge now.”_

“I’m coming over to see what’s there,” Patricia said, looking around. “I want to take a look before we move on.” She looked towards James. “Come with me. Iosif, fix him up and meet in the next room when you’re ready to move on. Everyone else hold this position until you’re ready to move out. Understood?”

“Yes, Overseer!” They affirmed and with James at her side, they quickly walked over to the next experimentation room.

***

The experimentation room next door was set up much closer to the human experimentation room than the Borelian one. As seemed to be standard for the sectoids, there were experimentation pods and dissection tables in the first part, upon which Patricia was not surprised to see sectoid corpses resting upon them.

Although unlike all the rest of the test subjects, where the specimen being experimented upon seemed to be an unmodified specimen, these sectoids lying in the pods and on tables seemed to be modified in some way. Some had larger arms, brains, an extra finger or two, were taller. But none of them looked healthy or even complete.

“It looks like they’re trying to improve themselves,” Creed suggested as he walked over. “Not much of a surprise, I suppose, given how easily they can get test subjects.”

Patricia looked over to the leftmost wall and blinked in surprise at what she saw. Small tubes containing sectoid…embryos, she supposed. She stopped counting how many, giving up at around thirty with at least half of the wall to go. No wonder they didn’t have any problem experimenting on themselves so easily, since all they needed to do was just grow more of them.

“How quickly can they be made?” She wondered out loud.

“Too quickly,” Carmelita stated coldly as she walked up, her armor splattered with fresh sectoid blood. “We should destroy this entire wall.”

 _“We won’t be destroying anything quite yet,”_ the Commander informed her. _“Vahlen will want some of those cloning tubes and the data from the sectoid experiments may be useful to us.”_

Patricia couldn’t help but think it was slightly hypocritical to condemn these alien experiments and then turn around and essentially do the same thing to them. Although it being the Commander, she didn’t know if he even felt actual anger about what was being done here. It was terrible, yes, but he likely viewed it as a consequence of war.

She suspected that she was going to learn a lot more about the darker side of XCOM in the coming days. Because as much as they tried not thinking about it…she was fairly certain all of them suspected the experiments Vahlen and her team were running weren’t exactly…legal.

But such was war, and she didn’t feel any sympathy for a species like this. If the rumors about Vahlen developing a virus to eradicate them were true, then she would face little opposition after what they’d seen here.

“This is all very interesting,” Creed interrupted, motioning her towards the back of the room. “But this is what you need to see.”

She followed him towards the back of the room, glancing briefly at the tables, some of which now had human corpses on them. At the back of the room was a large computer-like object, and off to the sides were some kinds of stasis pods.

“It appears the aliens are very interested in us,” Maria commented, as she stood in front of the left-most stasis pod. Patricia walked over and looked inside. Within the green gel, a sectoid was suspended inside. But it wasn’t like the other little gray ones, this one was a little taller, the muscles more pronounced.

“Keep going,” Maria suggested, motioning to the other pods. Patricia nodded and kept going. Each stasis pod had a sectoid in it, but the further she walked down, it became quickly apparent what the sectoids had been trying to do. Each specimen was taller, the head becoming more normal, the fingers and toes becoming more pronounced digits.

They were gradually becoming more and more human. The last stasis pod sectoid now even had the beginnings of a mouth. Interesting. _So much for a supposedly weak species,_ she thought wryly. So…the Hive Commander had lied, which shouldn’t exactly be a surprise. But it was disturbing how much they’d been able to modify the sectoid just using human genetics.

“So what is it?” Patricia asked. “Or rather, what is it supposed to be? A soldier?”

“The computers probably have that information,” Creed shrugged. “I’m guessing however they do this, it isn’t quick or cheap. Otherwise why keep the previous iterations?”

“In case mistakes were made,” Alexei guessed, walking up. “Aside from that, they probably have to be careful of other factors.”

Maria looked over at him. “Like what?”

Alexei sighed. “I don’t know. How the hell am I supposed to get inside the twisted mind of the aliens that came up with this, hmm?”

“Let me see if I can find something,” Patricia said, walking up to the computer. The tile-interface came up under her hand and she quickly pressed the sequence of buttons she knew were right. The screen flashed and began displaying hundreds of lines in the alien language, most of which was incomprehensible to her.

“Progress, I guess,” Creed commented wryly, coming up behind her.

She looked down on the holographic interface and concentrated on one word. _Map_. She’d had a theory about how these computers worked and figured it might be a good time to test it. New tiles started shimmering and she tapped them quickly. The lines on the screen changed to feature alien schematics of what appeared to be this base, all noted in their language.

“Huh,” Maria sounded surprised. “Good job.”

Patricia smiled. Well, that explained why the alien tech always did what they wanted to. It was sensitive to what they really wanted, be it unlocking doors or turning off power. Now that she had the map, she knew exactly where they had to go to reach the central command.

“Here,” she pointed. “Commander, are you reading this?”

 _“I am,”_ he confirmed. _“It translates roughly to “Command Temple” though I think that isn’t literal. If I had to guess, that’s probably where the Hive Commander will be.”_

Carmelita snorted. “Assuming it hasn’t relocated. That’s what I would do.”

Patricia closed her eyes and felt for the Hive Commander, who projected calm, control and anticipation. “It hasn’t left,” she said slowly. “It’s still there, and it knows we are coming.”

“Wonderful,” Creed muttered.

“It’s probably a trap then,” Carmelita stated, palming the grenade on her belt. “Though I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

Patricia checked to make sure her weapon was fully loaded. “We don’t,” she agreed. “But we’re going to be very careful. Even the Hive Commander has limits, and we outnumber it.”

“Remember you have limits too,” Creed warned. “And I doubt it will be just the Hive Commander.”

“Probably not,” Patricia agreed. “But the longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes,” now addressing the entire team, she began walking towards the exit. “Everyone converge in the hall; it’s time to finish off the Hive Commander.”

***

The map had been correct, judging from the widening hallway and increased pulses and most telling, the presence of the Hive Commander becoming for stronger for her. Another interesting sign was that the alloy walls had suddenly been replaced with transparent barriers, allowing them to see inside the inner working of the base.

There were nearly a dozen large pipes running along the walls, some transparent, some not. Probably circulating or transporting water, air or whatever the aliens used to power this base. Though she didn’t fail to note the flesh-like substance also in one of the pipes. She’d considered asking Nartha if he knew what that was, but at this point, didn’t really want to know.

It wasn’t as though she needed more motivation to kill the Hive Commander.

“And there it is,” Alexei said as the multicolored barrier came into view. Oddly enough the ceiling had also risen the further they’d got, so the height of this barrier was probably twenty-five feet tall or more. The width was probably more like fifteen, but more than enough for them to enter.

“What do you want me to do about him?” Creed asked, grunting as he tried to not drop Lautaro.

Patricia knew leaving him behind was a bad idea, not until the Hive Commander was dealt with, so she’d had Creed carry him all this way, admittedly not an easy task since even a small man in full armor was a ton. Not to mention Lautaro wasn’t exactly small. But Creed was the strongest here, so she’d had him carry him until they arrived at the central command.

“Set him down close to the entrance,” she ordered as the rest of the soldiers began getting into position by the barrier. “The Hive Commander should be too distracted or focused on me to try and influence him.”

“I can stay with him, if you want,” Mordecai suggested, walking up. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be like, well, this.” He moved the stump of his arm for emphasis. Patricia doubted that this was being influenced by the Hive Commander, but she had to be sure. She quickly sensed Mordecai’s mind for any traces of psionic influence and found none.

“Do it,” she agreed with a nod. “Keep aware. We’ll make sure the Hive Commander is busy, but there may be other aliens still here.”

He gave a firm nod and she imagined him smiling under that helmet. He raised the hand holding the pistol. “That’s what I have this for, yes? Don’t worry about me, kill the Hive Commander. We’ll be fine.”

Creed set down Lautaro gently and rose back to her side. “Then good luck,” she told Mordecai. “We’ll finish up now.”

He saluted and she returned it. With that done, she turned around and they walked towards the massive barrier where the rest of the soldiers were set up outside it. Samuel and Maria were set up at the corners as usual and Myra was at the front, ready to take the brunt of the attack if the aliens were waiting for them.

Fakhr had taken a knee and her rocket launcher was at the ready while James and Carmelita were close by the two gunners ready to charge in on command. Patricia walked up beside Myra and closed her eyes once more. But this time it seemed the Hive Commander knew what she was trying to do, because she couldn’t sense anything else beyond it.

“It’s blocking me,” she said grimly, opening her eyes and picking up her autorifle again. “We’ll be going in blind. Be ready.”

“How did we ever operate before we had soldiers who could just sense everything in the room?” Alexei commented dryly, and all of them lightly chuckled at that, even Patricia smirked.

“Very funny,” she answered, reaching forward. “Weapons up!”

The barrier receded instantly and they got their first look into the central command of the alien base. What immediately became apparent was that the entire room was open, at least in the sense that there was no alloy roof over them like the majority of the base. The cave simply stretched up beyond what Patricia could see.

This was probably the largest room yet, both sides had ramps leading up to an elevated walkway, which also had four stations each devoted to one specific computer, and each also getting a ramp extended to them. The middle of the room was a little different. The middle square was a small depression in the room, with the frame of the normal walkway containing ramps down into the depression.

Directly above the depression was an elevated platform, rising at least twenty feet over the rest of the room. Ramps lead directly up to it, though Patricia couldn’t see what was up there. The platform was the size of the depression, and scattered throughout the room were small alloy barriers, columns and other viable cover.

“Maria, Sarah, Iosif, take the left side,” she ordered, advancing slowly. “James, Nazar, Samuel, take the right.”

All six soldiers nodded and rushed off that direction. Oddly enough, she couldn’t see or sense any additional enemies other than the Hive Commander who felt dead ahead. “Fakhr, Afif, go up on the platform. Everyone else with me!”

With that said, Patricia began leading the remaining soldiers and MEC down into the depression and up it again. Upon walking up the ramp to the other side, she saw the final elevated platform, a ramp directly in front of them leading up to it. The platform had a small alloy barrier around the perimeter, but she could see what was on this platform.

Massive computer screens lined the walls, each displaying information, images and other things she had no idea of. Directly in front of it was a strange object. It had three short alloy legs that secured it to the floor, and then massive arms stretched from them and met at the top. Within the arms seemed to be floating rings, with some sort of orange focusing beam running through them.

 _“We’re in position,”_ Patricia looked to the left to see Sarah in front of an alloy barrier, ready to fire with Maria behind her and Iosif behind them bother. A quickly look to the right confirmed that James, Nazar and Samuel had set up in a similar way. Carmelita and Galia both dashed to the walls right before the ramp. Alexei, Creed and Myra stood by her as all of them focused on the one lone target.

The Hive Commander stood in front of the object, it’s back turned to them. It was larger than the other sectoids, though not as much as she would have thought. It’s muscles seemed more defined, not malnourished as the other sectoids looked. Also contrary to the lesser sectoids, this one stood up straight, without a hunch like the others.

The two major differences were the skin, which was a ruddy orange that seemed to pulse every few seconds, and the cranium which was much larger and the skin around it was a much lighter color, almost transparent.

“Welcome, soldiers of XCOM,” it said and all of them started. Patricia hadn’t been sure what it would sound like, but a deep-voiced British male was _not_ what she’d had in mind.

“Why is it speaking Russian?” Alexei whispered to her, raising his rifle at the alien.

Patricia looked over to him. “It’s not…”

“You hear what I allow you to,” it continued, and Patricia suddenly realized that the voice was coming inside her own head. She didn’t quite panic, since this was clearly just a projection or communication. A form of telepathy, she supposed, but it was still disconcerting. “All of this I allowed. You could have been stopped before, but I allowed you to continue.”

Ok, she’d bite. “Why?” Patricia demanded. “Was it just to show off your horrific experiments to us?”

“Horrific is a matter of perspective, _Psion_ ,” it hissed, the accent fading briefly as it turned around. It’s mouthless face and molten orange eyes only added to the unsettled atmosphere. “Those people are useless in this world, contributing nothing with only the goal of their own personal ambition. Their empty lives were given meaning for the advancement of science. The advancement of _us_.”

It twitched its head several times, and from the sense of amusement Patricia felt, she guessed it was an expression of laughter. “Humanity is sentimental, yet also a paradox. You will destroy yourselves over pointless ideals, governments and religions, but consider the cost too high when working to push yourselves forward. You are just slaves to ethics and a misunderstanding of the sanctity of _life_.”

The last sentence was filled with such venom in it’s voice and emotions Patricia actually winced. Creed stepped forward. “You didn’t answer her question,” he stated. “Why did you let us get this far?”

“For the only thing worth doing,” it answered, swiveling it’s head around the room. “Gathering _information_. Thanks to your supposed _attack_ , this data on your skills, powers and tactics can be used for when XCOM foolishly tries to attack again. Everyone here is expendable and can be replaced,” it’s head turned down to look directly at her. “Including your soldiers.”

It was worrying just how certain it sounded. Even in the event this attack failed, she would have figured they’d done enough damage to push back whatever they were doing…though if the Hive Commander was to be believed, they barely done more than annoy it.

The Hive Commander pointed a spindly finger to her. “But _you_ , psion, you will be a fine gift to present to the Elders.”

“Not likely,” Patricia growled, raising her autorifle.

“Over my dead body,” Creed added.

The Hive Commander turned it’s head to him. “Your opinion is worthless, Anius Creed, as are you.” It’s head was suddenly flared with purple energy and Creed suddenly shouted and collapsed to the ground.

“Fire!” Patricia ordered and the room was filled with the sounds of gauss and laser fire.

The Hive Commander simply raised its hands and was enveloped by a shimmering purple shield which negated all of the rounds that hit it. Laser beams were simply reflected away. “You are surrounded by traitors, Maria,” it growled, extending a hand towards her, clutching it into a fist. “ _Open your eyes!”_

Maria suddenly shouted and clutched her helmet with a hand. “Maria!” Sarah shouted and turned back. “Are you alright?!”

Maria shook her head. “Yes,” she said, oddly calm. “Everything’s fine.”

Patricia’s eyes widened. “Subdue her!” She shouted, turning to see Maria raise her autorifle at Sarah who was turning around to focus on the Hive Commander. “Sarah-“

She yelped in surprise as Creed barely missed slicing her arm open. Only a quick jump back saved her initially and she immediately focused on a now dangerous Creed. “Stop!” She ordered as he approached, brandishing his knife.

“Take care of him!” Carmelita yelled. “I’ll deal with the Commander!”

Patricia didn’t have time to see what she did, backing away quickly as Creed kept advancing. “It’s me! Patricia!” She pleaded as he leapt towards her. She wasn’t going to shoot him, she couldn’t do that. But she needed to subdue him quickly, otherwise he _would_ kill her. Myra, Alexei and Galia were trying to focus on the Hive Commander.

“I won’t let you hurt us again,” Creed growled at her. “ _Never again.”_

She didn’t know what he was talking about, but he was clearly not going to listen to reason. She focused in on his mind, ignoring the rush of odd images and controlled, calm rage. The Hive Commander’s influence was trapping those images and feelings at the forefront and had she time, she might have been able to remove them.

But she had to stop him _now_.

She knew his mind more than most, so that made it easier to push one command. _Sleep_.

Creed shuddered in front of her and fell to the ground a few seconds later. One problem out of the way, she turned to see Carmelita blasting away at the Hive Commander who still had the psionic shield up.

“Worthless,” it sneered, and with a gesture, Carmelita suddenly collapsed to the ground. It suddenly looked up towards Afif and Fakhr and pointed. “Your nation will be annihilated, Lim. And _you_ will watch as your people are butchered and ravaged like dogs!”

She heard a shriek and looked over in horror as Maria unloaded her clip into the back of Sarah who was thrown off the edge from the force. “Traitors!” She yelled as she swung towards Iosif behind her. “What have you done with them?!”

 _“Overseer! Afif’s gone crazy!”_ Fakhr informed breathlessly. She could hear shouting in Chinese as well in the background. _“He’s going to kill himself or me if he isn’t stopped! Orders?!”_

“Subdue him!” Patricia called as she threw her weapon down. She needed to psionically counterattack if they were going to win. Weapons weren’t helping. “If that’s not possible…defend yourself.”

“I’m going to help Iosif!” Galia called out as she rushed towards the left side of the room. “Suppressing!”

Maria was caught between two bursts of gauss fire, forcing her to stick to cover for the moment. Alexei took some shots at the Hive Commander who just looked down in disgust and motioned two him. Alexei screamed and sank to his knees, clutching his head.

Patricia immediately focused on him, trying everything she could to block the psionic influence from taking hold of him, which resulted in her feeling like her eyes were being gouged out and shouted in pain along with him. But it only lasted a few seconds and she’d successfully stopped it from taking his mind.

The pain fueling her focus, she became laser-focused on the Hive Commander in front of her. Arm encircled in a faint purple sheath, she reached out to the alien, fighting the barriers in it’s mind. All she needed was one opening, one brief crack to get inside.

“Distract it!” She called, the sounds of the world becoming faint. “Break it!”

 _“Flamethrower activated.”_ Myra informed and lowered her wrist towards the tiny alien.

That finally forced the Hive Commander to move to the side to avoid the scorching flames. Yet it’s mind held strong and became even more focused as it prepared another attack. “Stay back!” Iosif called. “I don’t want to shoot you!”

Patricia looked back to see Galia abandoning her position and steadily walking towards his position, firing a steady barrage of gauss fire at his cover. Galia was firing warning shots, but was deliberately avoiding an actual hit. She needed to be stopped _now_ otherwise Iosif would die.

“Take her out!” Patricia ordered. “Take her out now!”

“I’m sorry,” Galia said, the pain evident in her voice. But it didn’t stop her from firing a clip of gauss rounds into Maria’s back, forcing her to the ground. Yet she still tried getting up, reaching for her pistol and kept firing. Now Iosif stood, aimed his rifle at her head and fired, ensuring Maria would never rise again.

 _“Afif! Stop!”_ Patricia looked above her to hear a terrified shout along with a rant in Chinese and watched, horrified as Afif inexplicably leapt off the platform. He dove headfirst and none of them were in any position to try and catch him. The gauss fire drowned out the sound of his neck snapping, but Patricia could imagine it very clearly as he slammed into the ground, the impact nearly leaving his head at a horizontal angle.

“You cannot fight if you cannot see!” The Hive Commander declared as it enveloped itself in purple energy and thrust it’s hands towards the trio on the right. The fire towards the Hive Commander halted and then stopped.

 _“Overseer, it did something,”_ James informed, his voice calmer that she’d expected. _“I can’t see anything.”_

“Hunker down!” She ordered, redoubling her efforts to penetrate the mental psionic shield of the Hive Commander. She had to press the weaknesses she’d guessed. There was no other choice. _Your species is obsolete. You will be replaced by us, the species who you consider weak._

“No!” She heard it growl, it’s accent fading again. “We will _never_ be replaced.”

It was working, if she could just unsettle it a little more. But she needed to wrap up before all of them were rendered ineffective. “Fakhr! Shredder!”

As she gave the order she pressed again. _Then why do the Ethereals have you working on us? A weak species would not warrant their attention. Humanity is superior to you; we are better, faster, and stronger. And that is before our psionic-“_

“You are a _child!”_ The Hive Commander screamed, the arura around him flashing. With one extension of his arm and without breaking eye contact with her, Myra was blow backwards across the room, slamming into the wall. “You know _nothing_ of this Gift! You are incapable of _comprehending,_ psion! Know that before you are trapped in your mind forever!”

Patricia screamed as the Hive Commander broke into her mind, overpowering her attempts of resistance easily, shifting through her thoughts and memories. _You are nothing_. No! She _was_! She _was_!

_You are not. You never have been. You never will be._

It took every ounce of will to prevent her from just accepting that indisputable fact. Because it was indisputable, deep down she knew that. Why was she protesting such an obvious truth? It would be so easy to just accept it, so easy to just accept that it knew far more than she could ever…

“Firing rocket!” She heard faintly, as if underwater.

And everything weakened ever so slightly, and then she knew it was a lie.

 _“Get out of my head!”_ She shouted, thrusting her arms out, not realizing that the expulsion of energy emanated from her. And _now_ she was angry, she watched the rocket fly down and slam into where the Hive Commander was. It raised it’s hands to create another shield but she intervened, forcing all her will on one word.

 _“Delay,”_ she growled, and the hand faltered, the shield flickered and that was all it took for the last bursts of shrapnel to break through.

The Hive Commander squealed as it’s legs and body were impaled with hot metal, the concussive blast throwing it across the room. Patricia again focused all her anger, rage and power on the wounded Hive Commander. She saw it trying to crawl away, keeping itself still mentally strong while she stormed towards the tiny creature.

 _“Open,”_ she ordered, grabbing the thing by the arm and slamming a boot down on it. The Hive Commander squealed as the limb broke like a twig and for just a second, the barrier weakened and Patricia broke into the mind.

The images of sectoids, aliens, tech she never knew existed, words and documents in languages she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, all of it was centered in one central location. All floating around in a dome with a glowing purple ball in the center.

She found herself inside and raised a hand, willing it all to stop and everything ceased. Time froze and it’s mind was fully under her control. It’s sensation of time had stopped and with that assured, he briefly allowed herself to return to her physical body and looked down at the twitching Hive Commander, leaking golden blood from its torso and legs.

“…Overseer?”

She turned to see a bleary Carmelita walking up. “You’re alive,” Patricia sighed in relief. “I wasn’t sure…”

“I think it put me to sleep,” she muttered. “Damn alien.”

 _“Overseer Trask, come in!”_ Oh right, the Commander.

“I’m here, Commander,” she said, taking a breath. “The Hive Commander is subdued. Though there were casualties.”

 _“You were lucky,”_ Nartha interjected. _“If it wasn’t for Fakhr, all of you would have died.”_

“Yeah, but we didn’t” Patricia growled. “We won.”

 _“Prepare the specimen for transport,”_ the Commander ordered. _“Make sure-“_

“Are you _crazy_?” Patricia demanded, eyes wide. _“_ You want to _capture_ this thing? After what you saw it do?”

 _“The Hive Commander is a wealth of information and could lead to further scientific advances,”_ Vahlen said, her voice brutally cold. _“We have no idea if we will ever get this chance again.”_

“Can you contain it?” Patricia demanded furiously. “Can you?”

_“We will take proper-“_

“Answer the question!”

There was a brief silence. _“There is no proven way of blocking psionic abilities,”_ Vahlen finally admitted. _“But we’ve handled psionic specimens before.”_

 _“What, the sectoids?”_ Nartha commented sarcastically. _“You really think those methods will stop what you just saw?”_

 _“Quiet, both of you,”_ the Commander stated. _“Overseer, do you really believe it’s too risky to bring back?”_

Patricia took a breath. “If there is no way to block psionics, then yes, it’s far too risky. Maybe if I guarded it constantly, and even then it’s not a good idea. Otherwise it’s just going to get people killed. Please, you all saw what it can do and I’ve felt it’s intentions. Bringing it to the Citadel would be disastrous.”

All of them waited breathlessly for an answer. _“Very well, Overseer,”_ the Commander said, though he didn’t sound overly happy. _“I’ll defer to your judgment on this. Do what you will.”_

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Commander. Before it dies…I want to see what I can get from it.”

 _“Do it,”_ he said. _“Whatever you have to.”_

She nodded and looked down at the twitching body of the Hive Commander and pulled off her helmet. “What are you doing?” Carmelita asked as Patricia let her helmet fall to the floor.

Patricia curled her lips up, into what looked like a smile but what was just masking the building fury inside her again. She looked down to her right hand, flexing the fingers as she gathered the power, a shimmering manifestation cloaking her arm. Creed, Maria, Alexei, Eden, Afif, this alien had fucked with all their minds and gotten some of them killed.

Now it was time for the Hive Commander to experience the same thing.

“I’m going to practice,” she said, looking down at the hive Commander. “If that thing starts waking up, shoot it. Otherwise, ignore the screaming.”

She imagined the grim smile underneath Carmelita’s helmet. “With pleasure. Make it suffer.”

Patricia slowly knelt on the ground in front of the alien, and resumed direct control over the Hive Commander’s mind. “Get comfortable,” she whispered softly to the alien before the physical world faded away. “Your nightmare is just starting.”

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Collapsing Dream

_Personnel:_

Thunder 1 _(Squad Overseer)_ : Psion Patricia Trask

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 8

 

Thunder 2: Specialist Carmelita Alba

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 12

 

Thunder 3: Specialist Anius Creed

                **Status:** Comatose

 **Kills:** 8

Thunder 4: Specialist Galia Loeb

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

 

Thunder 5: Specialist Samuel Roche

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

 

Thunder 6: Specialist Afif Lim

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 5

 

Thunder 7: Specialist Sarah Liber

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 4

 

Thunder 8: Specialist Alexei Feodor

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

 

Thunder 9: Specialist Mordecai Korhn

                **Status:** Wounded (Estimated Time: TBD)

 **Kills:** 4

 

Thunder 10: Specialist Eden Rayna

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 2

 

Thunder 11: Specialist James Nolan

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 5

 

Thunder 12: Specialist Fakhr al Din

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 7

 

Thunder 13: Specialist Iosif Bronis

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

 

Thunder 14: Specialist Nazar Klim

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

 

Thunder 15: Specialist Maria Olena

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 7

 

Thunder 16: Specialist Lautaro Maetan

                **Status:** Wounded (Estimated Time: 20 Days)

 **Kills:** 5

 

Thunder 17: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

                **Status:** Damaged Suit (Estimated Time: 5 Days)

 **Kills:** 10

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Jason Olgard – Call sign: “Big Sky”

Pilot 2: Tristen Ward – Call sign: “Fallen Sky”

Pilot 3: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

 

Artifacts Recovered (Iteration 1.7):

-30x Sectoid Corpses (Moderate Condition) _Note: Still being counted_

-5x Mechtoid Wrecks

-1x Hive Commander Corpse (Moderate Condition)

-254x Human Abductee Pods (Alive)

-20x Assorted Test Subjects

-200x Weapon Fragments

-300x Alien Alloys (Assorted)

-30x MELD Canisters

-30x Alien Computers (Assorted)

-1x Unidentified Alien Communication Device

_Note: Artifact Recovery is still adding to the list as the base is continuously cleared. Numbers may be changed or objects added or removed._


	32. The Ravaged One

 

_California, United States of America_

This was boring.

Abby had no other word for it. Half the stuff she’d been editing had been literal fluff pieces with no substance whatsoever and the rest had been sensationalized stories with questionable sources. If she’d actually been concerned about doing a good job, she would have had some words with the original author writing this.

But as it stood now, she was trying to find a traitor.

Fortunately, her suspects were very limited. She’d already eliminated the fluff piece writers and essentially anyone not working on actual political, military or international news. From that pool there were only a few that actually dealt with the current political and international situations, including the alien invasion. In total, there were three suspects.

Nathan Rutherfield, one of the most efficient writers for this particular station. By _efficient_ , she meant _sloppy and fast_. He apparently thought her job as editor was _do my job for me_ based on the inordinate amount of grammatical and spelling errors. But he was always the first to report any major political event or speech, mostly because he had quite a few sources, and while that was suspicious in it of itself, it wasn’t enough to consider him a suspect.

No, what made her suspicious was that every story always fit a very specific agenda. His work was mostly dealing with the election as of late, and it seemed that every piece written was slamming anyone who wasn’t Kamili Rono. To be fair, he hadn’t written anything painting her in a _positive_ light, per-se, but whenever she appeared, it was either completely factual (a rarity) or extremely short.

He was somewhat clever in what he was doing. He was favoring a candidate without really favoring them. It wasn’t as though Kamili received pieces praising how good she was, but instead everyone else was being smeared, making her look good by comparison. It was disappointing for Abby personally, because Kamili did seem like a good woman, but if something like this came out, it would seriously damage public trust.

She hoped that he didn’t mind that she’d kept a document of every inaccuracy he’d reported in one convenient place. It might be useful if she found actual evidence. If EXALT actually was backing a candidate, this would probably be a way they did it. Kamili was an interesting choice though, she’d have expected either Malik or Harian.

Although on second thought, it would make more sense if Kamili was actually part of EXALT and not being “backed” at all. It would be the smartest thing to do. Come in, shake things up, provide the perfect image of what people want and expose the lying politicians for what they are. It would have almost certainly worked had the aliens not invaded. But since they were, people were actually considering retired admirals and fanatics as viable leaders.

She pursed her lips and kept typing, mindlessly on autopilot. At least this work didn’t require _that_ much effort. Her second suspect she was considering removing altogether. Branch President Thomas Mayberry. If EXALT had wanted the most influence over this station, he would be in the best position to do so. The thing was, his duties were more administration than the day-to-day rush of news.

Though she knew he could technically block or force a story, she hadn’t seen or heard anything about him actually _doing_ that. Aside from that, she knew that EXALT seemed to not place their agents _directly_ at the top, with the possible exception of Solaris Industries. So for him to be an EXALT plant would be rather unusual, compounded by the fact that he honestly wasn’t the person with the most control over the stories published.

But she couldn’t eliminate him from contention unless she found reasonable proof one of her other two suspects was the plant. But she wasn’t focusing much on him anymore. Her final suspect was Amy Cario, Chief Editor, and her direct boss. Every story she’d done had been approved by her before publication and she had final say about what was being written.

She was an interesting case, because she had several times had her go back and edit some of Nathan’s more…inflammatory headlines into something more neutral. Abby had complied, though she wasn’t sure if she was being directed to do so because Amy was a good editor or because that wasn’t the candidate EXALT wanted.

Another thing that had raised suspicion was that almost all news of the alien invasion, and XCOM specifically, was either reduced or rewritten entirely to be either neutral at best, or questioning at worst. Impartiality _was_ good, but since Abby had been very careful to keep things as neutral as possible whenever XCOM had appeared, it seemed a little suspicious. Especially since EXALT wanted XCOM out of the picture.

Well, she’d spent enough time determining suspects. Now she needed to gather evidence. This workplace had actually been easy to integrate into. She just smiled, nodded, pretended to be a little clumsy and everyone chuckled and went along with their day. She didn’t have the attention of anyone, fortunately, and she intended to keep it that way.

For now.

She finished the paper and forwarded it to Amy for approval. Her job for the day done, she stood and walked out of her little cubical towards the break room, which really just consisted or an open area with couches, TVs, a water cooler and pretty much all the stereotypical break room stuff.

Jochern was waiting on time, as usual. He’d mostly been moving around the office, chatting people up. He agreed with her that the suspects fit well, and had promised to see what he could find. He smiled as she walked up. “Another exciting day?”

She’d made her complaints known to him before, so she just glared at him in return. “Fine, fine,” he chuckled under his breath. “Maybe this will make it better.” He raised a flash drive.

Now she was instantly alert. “You found something?”

“Maybe,” he clarified, pocketing the drive. “It’s a start if nothing else. Are you familiar with the United America Super-PAC?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Neither was I,” he said mischievously. “But it seems Nathan certainly is, if some of his recent conversations are anything to go by.”

“How did you possibly learn that?” She demanded breathlessly. This could be just what she was looking for.

“I had a friend call him over for something, since he is a _very_ smart and intelligent man,” Jochern said, clearly amused. “And while he was sharing his, ah, _expertise_ , I went over to his computer and checked his email. I saw some interesting stuff, and copied the rest to the flash drive. Rather easy, truth be told.”

“Nice,” she complimented. “We’ll look-“

“Christine?”

She turned around as her cover name was called to see Amy walking up. “Yes?” she asked, keeping as calm as possible.

“I know you’ve clocked out,” she apologized preemptively, brushing a strand of brown hair off her face. “But I wanted to talk to you about one of your pieces.”

“Sure,” Abby said, keeping her voice friendly. “Show me.”

Amy nodded and Abby followed her to her office which was just down the hall. “Did you read what I sent that fast?” Abby asked. “I know its short but-“

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine,” Amy dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Most of your work is pretty good, in fact. No, I’m talking about your XCOM piece.”

Abby blinked. “Was there something wrong with it?”

Amy hesitated. “Technically…no. It was serviceable, though you were a little too…generous to what Van Doorn said. Like when he said XCOM invaded China.”

Abby frowned. “But he didn’t. His exact words were, _‘XCOM has just completed an operation in Chinese territory against the organization EXALT, which we have confirmed to be working with-‘“_

“You have to read between the lines sometimes, Christine,” Amy said wearily. “That quote was too long anyway. Maybe ‘XCOM performs unsanctioned operation in Chinese territory” would be better. And include something of the Chinese reaction.”

Abby crossed her arms. “You do realize I just edited this, right? Besides, I _know_ China hasn’t given a statement one way or another. Anything I’d add would just be speculation.”

“What, and you think the Chinese aren’t angry?” Amy asked sarcastically. “Just keep it vague and it’ll be fine. But we have to be neutral here, we can’t really be favoring XCOM.”

“I kept it as neutral as possible,” Abby protested, taking a step forward. “If anything, I made it less biased than before.”

Amy let out another sigh. “I know it’s more difficult, especially now, but we can’t slack off. We still have no proof that this ‘EXALT’ is actually real or just something XCOM is using to justify their actions.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “Really? Have you _watched_ the news over the past few hours? XCOM has released quite a bit of evidence.”

“And haven’t allowed any independent investigations,” Amy amended, her blue eyes filled with resolve. “Thus, we can’t claim with absolute _certainty_ that EXALT exists. I don’t know what XCOM is doing, but I doubt they’re just going to tell us. Look, you’ve done well so far, but make the changes or I’ll have someone else do it for you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Abby muttered. “Good day, Mrs. Cario.”

She almost stormed out of the room back to Jochern whose smile faltered as he saw her deliberately tight expression. “Is, ah, there a problem?”

“Maybe,” she muttered grabbing his arm and leading him out. “I’m seriously wondering if EXALT has more than one agent, since I’m pretty much convinced those two are plants for something. I’ll tell you in the car.”

With that both of them exited the studio, Abby trying to figure out the best path forward.

***

_France_

“[What did you tell them?]” Annette asked quietly as she looked nervously out the window as they drove through the countryside.

“[Family emergency,]” Latrell answered with a shrug. “[Made sure to take a couple of days off. The boss wasn’t happy, but I’ve got time stacked up.]”

Annette nodded. Still, she was nervous now that they were actually going through with this. Latrell felt nervous, and she echoed that feeling. In the end they’d decided that Germany was the closest country directly tied to XCOM, so they were going to Berlin to see if they could help. Customs wouldn’t be a problem since she could just force the guard to let them through.

It would have been much simpler, had Germany not closed itself off. Though they hadn’t technically withdrawn from the EU, they might as well have. They’d completely secured their borders and were only letting very specific people inside, and had she not possessed the power to control people, they would likely not be among that crowd.

“[I wonder if we’re being tricked,]” Latrell finally said after a few minutes. “[We waited a few days before leaving, they didn’t try and take you, and my stuff is supposedly untouched.]”

She wanted to believe that EXALT had decided to get on with more important things, but she honestly didn’t believe that for one second. That had been in the front of her mind ever since she’d fallen into an uneasy sleep with him in his bed. _What were they waiting for?_

“[They’re probably wanting to see what we do,]” Annette guessed, once more scanning the countryside. “[You have stuff set up if you or I were taken that would alert the police. They probably wanted us out of Paris.]”

“[Staying would only delay them though,]” Latrell muttered quietly, pursing his lips. “[We’d have had to do something eventually. Maybe they’ll take us more seriously now that XCOM apparently took one of their bases out.]”

With any luck, they’d done more than that. Annette had actually almost been giddy as she’d watched the press conference. As XCOM had systematically released evidence of what horrific things EXALT had done, she’d felt a sense of vindication and fury that had laid dormant in her for a long time.

Those experiments they’d been running…she’d thought the ones on her and the Furies were bad. But by comparison she’d been one of the lucky ones. Anyone who condoned what she’d watched deserved a much worse fate than death. She was again reminded of how cruel humans could be to one another, and a lack of empathy was what led to organizations like EXALT, those driven by nothing but results and the nebulous “greater good.”

She had no doubt EXALT likely thought they were doing themselves and humanity a great service, but nothing could justify what she’d seen and experienced. “[How quickly could you sense if they’re EXALT agents or not?]” Latrell asked, snapping her out of her reminiscing.

“[Probably a few seconds longer, since they’ll be among the guards,]” Annette admitted. “[It’s easy to sense one within a crowd; they’re unnaturally calm and focused. It’ll obviously be more difficult in a military setting.]”

“[So you sense and I’ll talk,]” Latrell nodded. “[Hopefully they’ll be reasonable.]”

“[Remember we have to insist to speak to him right away,]” Annette reminded him intently. “[Otherwise if EXALT has plants, they’ll kill us or isolate us. I can’t take out everyone.]”

Latrell winced. “[That’s such an odd thought. It’s hard to imagine you hurting anyone; you were the one who got angry when I suggested that you arm yourself.]”

Annette leaned back in her seat, pursing her lips. “[Well, consider yourself vindicated. I’m not quite as naïve as I was a few months ago.]”

“[I’d hoped you would come around,]” he said softly. “[But not like this.]”

“[Don’t even think about going down that road,]” she chastised, sensing some more guilt. “[None of this is your fault. I was an overly idealistic woman, and I’ve gotten over that rather vividly. People like EXALT deserve whatever’s coming to them, and this time I’ll be ready to make them pay.]”

“[But do remember to keep control,]” Latrell reminded her. “[I’m not sure how people would react to knowing you could control their minds.]”

She could sense the lie. “[Actually, I think you do.]”

“[Fine, I have some idea,]” he sighed reluctantly. “[Honestly, going to a government is almost a bigger risk that just running. You are going to change a lot of things, and there are going to be people who want to kill you to be safe, or use you as a weapon.]”

Annette scowled. “[I’m fine with being a weapon, as long as I’m pointed in the direction of EXALT or the aliens.]”

“[Mhmm,]”

They kept driving in silence for a while as twilight came. Annette checked the time. “[How long was it to the border?]”

“[Half-hour or so from here,]” he answered. Looked at the gauges. “[Hey, does something seem off?]”

Annette frowned and that was when she noticed it. “[The back seems lower,]”

He scowled. “[We might need to stop and fix it if it’s a flat tire. Otherwise we won’t make it beyond the border.]”

Annette looked around the darkening countryside. “[But EXALT…]”

“[We really don’t have a choice,]” Latrell sighed. “[Besides, I doubt they planned out exactly where we’d stop. I’ve got a spare in the back and know how to change it. It should take long if we both work together.]”

“[Fine, fine,]” she sighed as they pulled over. She quickly got out and walked to the back and frowned at the sight. Yep, definitely a flat tire, she was surprised that they’d gotten this far without noticing it.

“[Damn it,]” Latrell swore as he came around and looked at the tire. “[Why today of all days?]”

“[Let’s just fix it,]” Annette insisted, looking around nervously. “[I don’t like this.]”

“[We’ll be fine,]” he assured her, kneeling down. “[There’s a toolbox in the trunk. I’ll need the wrench and 14mm socket.]”

“[Ok,]” she said and walked to the trunk and opened it and looked inside. She was thankful he was so organized, since it made her job much easier to actually find what she was looking for without sifting through junk. The spare was there, a heavy jacket and a toolbox. She reached over and pulled it towards her.

Opening it, she sifted through the tools. Ah, there was the wrench and _there_ were the sockets-

She gasped as she suddenly felt Latrell suddenly… _stop_. His thoughts suddenly vanished, even though she could still feel him she leapt around the corner to see him sprawled on the ground, a dart in his neck.

“[No!]” She gasped, looking around wildly. This _couldn’t_ be happening. Not after everything she’d been through.

She _couldn’t_ go back again.

She gritted her teeth and drew upon the power, turning the pain of her melting flesh into strength to amplify the effect. Purple energy running up her arms and body, she turned around in every direction, still sensing nothing. _“Come out!”_ She roared. _“Finish this!”_

A sharp pain in her neck made her stumble and she reached up and pulled out a small dart. Tranquilizers, of course. She smashed the dart in her hand, ignoring the pain. That wouldn’t work on her. _“Try again!”_ She yelled, charging in the direction she’d been shot.

“Ugh,” she groaned as two more darts pierced her chest in quick succession. In desperation she thrust her arm forward, projecting a wave of energy towards the distance. All she got in return was another dart to the shoulder.

A wave of fatigue washed over her and she sank to her knees, trying to fight the encroaching darkness but failing. “Not again,” she whispered as she struggled to stand up. “Not agaiaaaaa…”

She collapsed to the ground, her last thought before unconsciousness was wishing they’d just kill her.

***

_England, Falka Intelligence Control_

Short notice meetings involving all the families were rarely unscheduled, but this was one instance where Saudia felt fully justified about disrupting everyone’s hectic schedules, including her own. Decisions needed to be made _now_ , before the situation deteriorated further. And if the past twenty-four hours were any indication, further deterioration was very possible.

Elizabeth had all her agents and plants working overtime to distort or mute the supposed ‘evidence’ XCOM had presented to the world. She was somewhat impressed just how convincing that footage was, if she hadn’t known better, she’d have assumed it was real and regardless of that, it was now attracting the attention of powerful governments which was going to open up a new host of problems.

“At least Elizabeth beefed up security,” Ethan noted as they walked through Intelligence Control. Saudia had to agree, there were Venator and Falka guards posted in front of each division room and hallway entrance.

“Or Zara just decided to bring a legion for protection,” Saudia amended as she noted a group of four Venator guards marching past them. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Good point,” Ethan muttered. “Did everyone say they’d make it?”

“Yes,” Saudia confirmed as they turned a corner. “The Mercado’s are sending Yakov as their representative for now.”

“I guess the Russian side is making their moves,” Ethan noted, pursing his lips. “Let’s hope it doesn’t escalate.”

“It won’t,” she promised. “I’ve made it quite sure there that I will make an executive decision if they couldn’t come to a compromise.” They walked into the main control room and headed up to Elizabeth’s office overlooking it, since that’s where she wanted to hold the meeting.

Falka Intelligence Control hadn’t been where she’d wanted to hold this, but it was the most central location for everyone and they would be able to reach it within hours. It would take much longer to hold it at the Bastion, even if it was ultimately safer.

The doors hissed open and they both walked into the room. Elizabeth was in a deep conversation with Zara and Darian. Matthew and Hasina were also in a conversation as well. All of them paused and she motioned for them to continue until Yakov showed up. Matthew broke off and walked over to her.

“Director,” he greeted with a simple nod. “Good to see you.”

“You as well,” she answered. “Unfortunate we’re not in a better place, but that’ll be discussed later.”

“True,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Though not all is bad. Operations are still proceeding well in North America, and the United States is playing into our hands.”

“Excellent,” she said, not really able to muster up much enthusiasm. It was bizarre; just a few months ago she’d have been thrilled at the possibility of influencing the United States directly, but as it stood now, she was wondering if that election was even going to _happen_.

Matthew seemed to pick up on her disinterest. “I know, not much of a comfort now. But once things quiet down…” He trailed off as she fixed him with an incredulous stare.

Placating at its worst. Did he really think things were going to ‘ _quiet down’_ for any of them?

“Well, you might be happy to know the Chronicler arrived safely,” he added, changing gears completely. “I assume he’s doing…whatever he does.”

“And probably not told you either,” she added wryly. Oddly enough she hadn’t been concerned about his safety in the least. She’d never really worried about him for some reason, even though his age should have given her plenty of cause. He’d assured her that she could take care of himself, no matter what and until she witnessed otherwise, she had no cause to dispute that.

The door hissed open and Yakov strode in. Yep, definitely a Russian, and a young one at that. Probably no older than forty, with short black hair and a chiseled face. From what she knew of him, he’d overseen intelligence operations in the Russian region and worked very closely with Elizabeth over the years. What was also of interest was that he had always supported aggressive research into advanced weapons.

She wondered if that was a sign of what the Mercados wanted to do going forward. “Greetings, Director,” he said, extending a hand to her as he walked up. His voice was more accented than usual, but his English was perfectly understandable. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You as well, Ambassador,” she answered. “My condolences for the loss of Diguon again, though I am pleased that your family was able to send someone on such short notice.”

“Appreciated,” he answered with a smile. “Considering recent developments I have to share, they felt I was best qualified to be here. Major changes are happening in Asia over the past few hours.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “Then we should get started.”

With that all of them gathered around the holotable, just deciding to stand since there really wasn’t time to waste. “This is Yakov Mercado, representing them for today,” Saudia introduced, resting her hands on the holotable. “It also seems there’s been some recent developments we’re not aware of.”

On the right side of the table, Yakov inclined his head. “A privilege to be here, but down to business. Elizabeth, may I?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Of course.”

Yakov plugged in his tablet and a map of Asia appeared on the green holotable. “First order of business; China has officially left the Council, though are making sure to keep in quiet.”

Saudia’s eyes widened. Well _that_ was certainly interesting. “An interesting move,” Matthew commented carefully. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d actually follow through on something like that.”

“They _do_ now have the dreadnought,” Darian reminded them, looking at the map curiously. “It’s possible they thought they didn’t need XCOM anymore.”

“That, and XCOM might have not played nice with them,” Ethan added grimly. “I have a feeling this was a long time coming, and this provided the excuse needed to drop out.”

“I tend to agree,” Yakov nodded. “By all accounts, XCOM has not exactly been…well, _respectful_ to China.”

“Meaning not intimidated by them,” Zara stated flatly. “XCOM may be a threat, but it’s about time someone stood up to them.”

“I’m more concerned with how XCOM will respond,” Elizabeth commented. “This will be considered a direct insult, and if XCOM truly isn’t intimidated by China…there is a chance they could expand their alliances to countries they would have previously avoided due to political fallout.”

“Taiwan?” Hasina asked skeptically. “I doubt it. That would a blatant political move, nothing more. XCOM would have to get something substantial out of it.”

“ASEAN,” Saudia recalled suddenly. “That would get their attention. Blatantly defying the Chinese would be a _massive_ incentive for them to fund XCOM.” She’d never really thought of that collection of smaller Asian countries as something worth investing much in, especially since China dominated the hemisphere.

“Exactly,” Yakov agreed. “Ever since China has been declaring everything in the South China Sea their own, they’ve not exactly been friendly towards them. While ASEAN has given them something of a voice, they haven’t really been supported by any major power.”

“And if XCOM would be willing to stand with Taiwan, an XCOM-ASEAN alliance would be almost assured,” Matthew finished in awe. “And what exactly could China do about it?”

“Aside from publicly rebuke XCOM and any nations supporting them?” Yakov asked with a shrug. “Not much aside from taking them over themselves, and I can assure you that China does _not_ want to go to war with XCOM or the rest of the world for that matter.”

“What of an alliance with Mongolia?” Hasina asked, pointing at the map. “The proximity would be enough to send a message, _and_ Mongolia would actually be a decent ally.”

“Remember they have Russia to consider as well,” Darian pointed out.

“Russia supports XCOM,” Yakov shook his head. “We suspect they also have an unofficial alliance directly with the country as well, judging by XCOM’s alliances with neighboring countries. Possibly proxies to support an ally without the appearance of favoritism.”

Saudia considered the map for a minute. “I have a feeling that China might have acted too rashly in this case. They’re relying on XCOM backing down and continuing on without them, or hoping that their withdrawal will lead to the ultimate dissolution of them and they can take their place.”

“They’re delusional if they think that,” Zara snorted. “XCOM isn’t going anywhere.”

“Even if it did, China would not be leading the defense,” Yakov interjected. “Every country allied with XCOM has at least some alien tech, and are adapting their militaries to it. It’ll take China time, and Russia and Israel have already beaten them to it.”

“Russia?” Zara asked, frowning. “When?”

“That leads to my second bit of information,” Yakov said, tapping on his tablet and the map disappeared. “I already said we suspected XCOM is funneling tech to Russia, but we don’t know for sure. But what we _do_ know is that Russia has access to alien tech, and for some time. One of our Russian agents managed to acquire some intel about their first major project. Elizabeth?”

“It’s appears to be a front-line soldier,” Elizabeth answered, as a hologram of said soldier came up. “The fact that it was able to be acquired this…easily, indicated that Russia is probably planning to deploy them in the near future.”

The soldier prototype was clad in some of the bulkiest armor Saudia had ever seen. The chest piece, legs and arms were completely covered by armor and the left shoulder guard displaying the Russian flag was at least twice as big as the opposing shoulder. Several insulated wires also ran up the arms to attach in the upper neck before disappearing into the armor itself. Oddly enough, they seemed to have taken some inspiration from the North Korean soldiers she’d seen, since this helmet looked like a slight modification of that, though more angular and armored.

“They call this the опекун,” Yakov continued. “‘ _Guardian’_ if you want the literal translation. Though I personally think ‘ _Shield_ ,’ would be more fitting considering what it can do.”

“And what _can_ it do?” Matthew asked.

“The Guardian-class armor has an experimental type of energy shield,” Yakov continued. “It creates a small square-shaped barrier around the armor and is an attempt at neutralizing the worst of the alien plasma weapons impact.”

“What about ballistics?” Saudia asked.

“That’s what the armor itself is for,” Elizabeth clarified. “It’s not a kinetic shield, and from what I’ve read, it might last for only one shot. Seems to work well against lasers though.”

“Good to know,” Saudia muttered. An advanced Russia and Israel were troubling, but that might turn out to be a blessing in disguise if the aliens launched a full-scale invasion. “Thanks you, Yakov. Darian, an update?”

“Ah, yes,” Darian ran a hand through his hair. “Well, the plan’s gone completely to hell since Brazil collapsed and since it looks like the military is going to assume control, I’m directing my agents to focus on that. But the short version is that we are _not_ going to have the control we hoped over them.”

“Unfortunate,” Saudia sighed. “But we didn’t exactly have a choice this time. It slowed XCOM down and at the time, that was the priority.”

“And it was a massive waste of time,” Zara growled. “You’ve essentially handed XCOM a direct alliance with Brazil _without_ Council control. You read the profile of the woman staging the takeover? Exactly the type who XCOM would _love_ to work with.”

When put like that, it was. “That was a risk,” Saudia admitted. “But a calculated one, and it didn’t work out this time. We will need to do better.”

“Yeah, and I’m curious just what you think will work,” Zara continued hotly, motioning around the table. “Tell me, Director, what _is_ going to be the silver bullet that shuts down XCOM? Because it seems like no matter whatever, they somehow come out ahead.”

“She does have a point,” Matthew agreed slowly. “They’re in a unique position. Too new to be effectively infiltrated, too small to effectively control and too isolated to find. XCOM broke the rules for everything, and we’re seeing what happens when the usual powers are challenged by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“I’ll answer your question now,” Ethan broke in, stepping forward. “Director?”

She nodded. “Tell them,”

“We know who the Commander of XCOM is,” he said, and everyone around the room looked at him with new interest. “He led the assault on the Mercado Estate and contacted the Bastion afterwards.”

“Why hold onto this, even if only for a day?” Elizabeth demanded, glaring at him. “You know how long we’ve been trying to figure _that_ question out?”

“The Commander is alive,” Ethan stated in response. “And guess who the commander of XCOM is?”

She blinked and straightened up in surprise. “Sorry, _what_?”

“Seconded,” Zara agreed.

“You’re saying that _your_ Commander and the Commander of _XCOM_ are the same person?” Darian asked incredulously.

“Exactly,” Ethan said. “Trust me, it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

“And I’ll show the conversation itself,” Saudia assured them. “But we need to decide what we’re going to _do_ about it.”

“If so….” Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “Everything makes a _lot_ more sense. The tensions between XCOM and the UN, XCOM forming alliances, their stance towards China, the brutal tactics…no wonder everything’s been so unpredictable.”

“If we could release this…” Matthew mused thoughtfully. “We might-“

“It would just be denied,” Ethan interrupted, shaking his head. “I know him, and from that conversation he hasn’t changed much. I’m certain he has a plan in case his actual identity was ever revealed. Aside from that, we have no legitimate way to prove it.”

“So we’re up against the man who essentially brought down the Caliphate,” Zara muttered. “Well, what did he have to say?”

“Essentially, ‘the aliens are manipulating us’ and ‘stop attacking us or I’ll bring you down,’” Saudia paraphrased. “But the thing to take away is that he was open to a truce.”

“That has to be a lie,” Yakov stated with a frown. “A trick to lure us into complacency.”

“I’m pretty certain the only reason he suggested it was because he assumed that we _wouldn’t_ take it,” Ethan said. “However…he would honor it if we did so.”

“Are you actually considering this?” Darian asked incredulously. “After everything they’ve done to us?”

“The only reason we’re fighting XCOM now is because of the aliens,” Hasina reminded them. “Which should be reevaluated now. If the aliens are playing us, we should back out as soon as possible. Our alliance was never supposed to last long anyway.”

“I would like to point out that once more that we’re faced with a decision where only XCOM benefits,” Darian pointed out with resigned amusement. “Let’s say we make a truce with XCOM and end it with the aliens, then they go to war with us, diverting attention from them. We stay and XCOM keeps fighting us, and the longer this goes one, the harder it is for us. Secrecy was always our greatest weapon, and XCOM has continuously reduced it. I don’t foresee this going well for us if it continues.”

“I assume you have an idea, Director?” Matthew asked, looking towards her.

She took a breath. “I no longer think continuing a war with XCOM is viable at this point, at least not openly. We need to be out of the public eye right now. However, I don’t necessarily think we need to immediately break our alliance with the aliens. We need time to prepare. So we humor them for now, give them some useless information, or at worst lie about our efforts. But we should not break it off until we are ready.”

“I would be able to get a better understanding of where we stand if I contacted the Commander directly,” Ethan added. “He believes I am dead. The fact that I’m with EXALT now may cause him to reconsider some things.”

“From what you’ve described of him, I doubt that he’ll refrain just because you’re with us,” Zara commented skeptically, crossing her arms. “He killed his own wife, yes?”

“No, it won’t on its own,” Ethan clarified. “But I could assure him we’d adhere to something of a truce. He’ll be more likely to believe it coming from me. But we’d _have_ to follow through on it. He won’t accept anything less.”

“So that’s the question then,” Elizabeth said. “Is that what we’re doing? Play nice with XCOM and the aliens for now until things quiet down? What happens after?”

“Elizabeth…” Matthew said slowly. “The thing is, if we don’t work to stop the aliens, there may not _be_ an after. Whatever the aliens have planned for us, I doubt it’ll be what we want.”

“Enemy of my enemy,” Darian added. “Though even if XCOM isn’t exactly a _friend_ , if the Commander really is in charge, he’ll at least ensure that the UN doesn’t come out on top.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the ultimate dismantling of the UN isn’t in his plans,” Ethan suggested. “He would never forgive them after what they pulled, stay of execution or no.”

“So that’s settled for now,” Yakov said with a nod. “But regarding the Commander’s identity…who should know about this? It shouldn’t be common knowledge.”

“Why not?” Ethan argued. “The men and women who fought with him, they deserve to know he’s alive.”

“And that is a problem,” Elizabeth noted. “You may be loyal to us, but not everyone may share it.”

“They will,” Ethan assured her. “I can promise that. We’ve moved on, we have lives here now. But this is one thing they need to know.”

“I’d question _need_ ,” Matthew said slowly. “But I won’t deny they have a right to it. So I suppose the question is if you’d bet their lives on it?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“In the event that they hear this news and decide to _leave_ ,” Matthew said slowly. “They will be traitors and executed. You will be the one to do so if that happens. I consider that fair, do you?”

“I do,” Ethan agreed with a firm nod. “But that won’t happen.”

“You should hope not,” Zara agreed. “But I don’t want this spread widely. Take your soldiers aside if you wish, but tell them to keep it to themselves.”

“Then that’s settled,” Saudia said. “Is there anything else?”

“In fact there is,” Elizabeth said, relief in her voice. “Some good news. We’ve reacquired Subject Four along with her boyfriend. Both are being sedated and moved to a secure location.”

“I thought you were going to wait,” Darian said, scratching his chin. “Some kind of method for infiltrating XCOM.”

“With our decision, it would have been useless anyway,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Besides, I didn’t want to delay it any longer. Both of them are perceptive and I didn’t want to lose them again.”

“Good work,” Saudia complemented, relieved to finally hear that. “Be sure to keep her sedated until she’s safely in the Bastion. Until we know the full extent of her powers, just having her conscious is dangerous.”

“Trust me,” Elizabeth assured her, raising a hand. “We’ve borderline drowned her in sedatives. It took four tranquilizer darts to take her down in the first place. She’s not waking up without us letting it happen.”

“Good,” Saudia looked around the table. “Any other updates?”

“Ah, I do, actually,” Darian said, lifting a hand slightly. “Thanks to Dr. Tygan and his team, we can now safely genetically modify our soldiers, which will give them enhanced reflexes, strength and perception. Not revolutionary, but it could give us an edge in the future. The only catch is that it requires the alien bonding agent, but we have ample supply of that at the moment.”

“I want my guard to be enhanced,” Zara stated. “Preferably as soon as possible.”

“Speaking of Tygan, how is the good doctor?” Saudia asked curiously. “I would think that he’d have questions about recent events.”

“He would if he knew about it,” Darian answered dismissively. “But that isn’t a concern at the moment. He’s too absorbed in his work and I’ve only allowed the TV stations and internet to allow only those we directly control. Tygan is taken care of.”

“Then let’s get back to it,” Saudia nodded, one firm nod of finality. “We have much to do.”

***

_EXALT Bastion Transport_

“They took it pretty well, all things considered,” Saudia murmured into Ethan’s shoulder as she leaned against him. She knew that the moment that they landed, it would be back to their hectic duties and figured she might as well enjoy the short time where everything was quiet.

“They’re all professionals,” Ethan said. “But I was impressed; and now we have a plan. I’ll try contacting the Commander within a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll take the necessary precautions.”

Saudia smiled to herself. “Ethan, you don’t have to constantly reassure me you’ll use common sense. I trust you.”

“Sorry, habit,” he apologized lightly. “I do wonder how the aliens are faring. I assume their war with XCOM is still continuing without our ‘help.’”

“Probably the same as before,” Saudia shrugged. “But since XCOM doesn’t really publicize their battles, I doubt we can accurately gauge how the war is going. I doubt the aliens themselves will answer.”

“True,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll ask the Commander, provided he’ll actually share that.”

 _“Director, we’re approaching the Bastion now,”_ their pilot informed them. _“Prepare for landing.”_

Saudia reluctantly straightened up and strapped in. Ethan did the same and they felt the plane slowly dip as usual. Everything seemed to be going according to standard until the pilot spoke again. _“Director, the Bastion is not responding to our request for landing.”_

Saudia frowned. “Try again. The weather may be interfering. Otherwise just land, you have my authorization.”

_“Copy, Director. Though communications should be working regardless. I’ll have it checked out later.”_

“He has a point,” Ethan muttered after a few seconds, concern hardening his face. “All of equipment was designed to work in hazardous conditions. Not to mention is meticulously maintained.”

“We’ll sort it out once we land,” Saudia said, though inside she was now questioning that herself. Her hand unconsciously went down to her hip where her laser pistol was.

 _“Coming in for a landing,”_ the pilot informed. _“Director, a UFO has landed just outside the entrance.”_

“What?” Saudia demanded. “Is-“

 _“There appears to be no signs of a fight,”_ the pilots answered quickly. _“Nor does the Bastion appear to be on lockdown.”_ The plane hit the ground with a thud and they waited a few tense minutes before it finally stopped. Saudia unstrapped and stormed towards the exit and quickly descended into the frigid outside.

The hangar was deserted and sure enough, a UFO was landed just outside the entrance, conveniently off to the side to allow them to land safely. This one was different though, it was smaller and the gray metal was darker than the previous UFOs. She pursed her lips. It was bad enough when the Speaker had the audacity to simply announce he was coming; now he did it without even checking with them first.

He’d better have a damn good explanation for this, especially considering EXALT had been extremely lenient towards their gross disrespect of authority. If they’d somehow found out they’d captured Subject Four and demanded to turn her over…No, this was one thing she wouldn’t allow.

Not this time. EXALT had been too soft on the alien’s demands. Sure, they’d provided them with advanced tech, but that didn’t give them the authority to walk all over them, which had gone on long enough.

“Let’s see what’s going on,” Ethan said, coming up behind her. He’d grabbed his laser rifle and with a nod they both entered the Bastion. Almost immediately they saw the four guards lying on the ground.

Saudia sucked in her breath and dashed over towards them, and that’s when she realized that they weren’t dead as she’d feared. She felt chills run through her as she heard their subdued moans and gasps of agony. She rolled one of them over and realized that they were all unconscious as well, but clearly in some kind of pain. Dried tears were on some of their cheeks which disconcerted her most of all.

EXALT soldiers, and especially those at the Bastion were the toughest soldiers imaginable. They could have their arm blow off and only grit their teeth in response. These soldiers appeared untouched, yet had been reduced to tears and unconsciousness by…what? A drug?

“This doesn’t bode well,” Ethan muttered, as he tried shaking one of the fallen soldiers who suddenly screamed as he shook her and dropped her quickly as a result. “This isn’t right.”

She swung her head towards him incredulously. “And how long did it take you to come up with that? No, it’s not _right_.”

His eyes widened suddenly. “Do you think they’ve taken the whole base…?”

A wave of fear swept over her as she caught his implication. “Martel…”

“Go to him!” Ethan stated urgently as he quickly rose and she suddenly grabbed his arm.

“No!” She insisted. “They’re here to see _me_. You go to him, I’ll handle this alien and if he’s hurt…”

“I’ll sound the alarm if he is,” Ethan growled. “And if he’s safe, I’m coming right back to you.”

“Do that,” she nodded, focusing ahead. “They probably went to the Control Room, but knowing them they’ll probably come to me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he headed towards the quarters. “Deal with them.”

Saudia nodded and strode over to the elevator and hit the button taking her to the main floor. While she rode it, she tried conceiving of what could have possibly happened. The group of soldiers she’d seen had seemingly been relatively unharmed, at least on the outside, so that severely limited the explanations.

Except…she tensed as a new explanation wormed its way into her mind. Psionics. They knew Subject Four could utilize some form of mind control, which was how she’d managed to escape in the first place. And that was an _untrained_ , scared girl who’d just wanted to get out. Who knows what an actual _trained_ psionic could do, it might be enough to cause the effects she’d seen.

Which meant this upcoming confrontation was going to be even more dangerous than she’d thought. She sincerely doubted that one psionic would be able to take the base, but would be deadly on an individual level. Though now that threw into question who exactly would be waiting for her. The thin men had never demonstrated any psionic abilities, only the sectoids, though that didn’t necessarily exclude them since the sightings were rare to begin with.

She drew her pistol. Well, if the aliens even _tried_ messing with her mind, she’d kill them, alliance or no. the elevator stopped with a loud _ding_ and the doors slid open and she walked into the main hall. Off to the sides were more soldiers similarly unconscious and in pain, curled up on the floor or clutching their heads. At the end of the hallway was the Speaker.

Time to get answers.

Her footsteps were loud even on the carpet, and the Speaker turned from looking at the paintings on the wall towards her. Saudia was expecting him to look smug, pleased even, or at least giving the illusion of normalcy. But to her surprise and concern…the Speaker actually looked _afraid._

But clearly not of her.

“What are you doing here?” She growled as she stormed up to him. “I thought I made myself _clear_ last time.”

“I assure you, Director, you made yourself _quite_ clear,” he answered, not bothering to even disguise the annoyance in his voice. “So much so that one of the Elders decided to take you up on your offer.”

Saudia blinked. “And this is how he arrives? By _attacking_ my soldiers?”

The Speaker shook his head. “There was no attack. Not like you’re imagining. I _warned_ you about attracting the attention of the Elders. Congratulations, _Director_ , you now have it.”

He motioned towards the Control Room. “The Ravaged One awaits you in your control room,” he said quietly. “Treat him with respect or face the consequences.”

That must have been a title or something. Though it seemed oddly childish and dramatic, not exactly what she would have expected from the Elders. Well, it was going to take more than a melodramatic title to actually intimidate her. But she figured it was best to treat him reasonable until she knew more about his _actual_ capabilities.

She shook her head as she passed two more downed guards, but knew there was little she could do until she dealt with this Ravaged One. Her stride strong and swift, she kept walking closer to the entrance, his pistol firmly in hand.

And gasped as she felt her left arm break.

She froze and looked down in shock as she looked down at the mangled arm, twisted beyond normal, scraped and bloodied, the pain sharp with each minute motion. She hissed, no, no, this couldn’t be real. It was _exactly_ like she remembered. Her arm _had_ been broken once, but years ago in a botched training exercise in the Gauntlet.

But it _felt_ real.

But it _wasn’t_. It _couldn’t_ be.

Then her arm blurred and it was fine again. What the hell? She blinked looking at her now fine arm, and gasped as now her upper chest felt like it had just been shot. Ignoring the pain for the moment, she cautiously reached up to where she felt the impact and shivered as her fingers touched blood and with some actual disconcertion, she looked down on her bloodstained shirt and saw the area around the bullet hole soaked with blood, the fabric itself torn by the bullet.

Her head snapped up towards the door. It had to be the Ravaged One, toying with her mind somehow. But it felt _real_. This shouldn’t be possible. _Nothing_ could be recreated so perfectly. Pushing through the stabs of pain in her shoulder, she stumbled over to the door and placed her bloody palm on the scanner to let her inside.

As the door slid open she realized that she was pressing her free hand over her wound and forcefully removed it. This wasn’t real, she wasn’t going to worry about blood loss because this wasn’t _real_ , no matter what her mind screamed otherwise. She forced herself to stand up straight and took a confident step into the control room, resting a blood-covered hand onto her pistol once more.

It was worse than she’d feared. Everyone had been at their stations, presumably doing their jobs. Now everyone was either slumped over in their seats or sprawled on the ground. But what instantly put her on edge was that the room was completely silent, and that was when she realized that everyone in the room wasn’t in a constant state of pain.

They were dead.

Everyone’s dead face was either contorted in pain, wounded or had an expression of absolute terror. None had died in peace. Some bodies had pistols in their hands, their heads with bullet holes leaking blood onto the ground. Others held fleshy eye sockets and bloodied fingers, still more bodies were wounded on arms, legs, with a knife or other blunt object in their hands.

In the middle of the room, in front of the holotable, stood the Ravaged One.

He easily towered over her, his helm only a few feet from the ceiling itself. His body and arms were contained inside a robe of some kind, one that had likely once been pristine and clean, but was now a reflection of what she saw around her. The color was maroon and faded red, looking to her like a mix of dried and fresh blood. Thin gold stripes ran down the robes, but now they were either broken, faded or torn, much like the rest of the robe. Near the bottom the fabric had been scorched, ripped, and disintegrated, leaving the bottom of it looking tattered.

Now her legs felt like a knife had just been stabbed into them and it took all her willpower _not_ to collapse to the floor, though was unable to hide her sudden rapid breathing as her eyes watered from the pain of simply standing up. But her anger for what had been done gave her strength, enough to raise her pistol towards the helm of the Elder.

“I have not come here to kill you, _Director,_ ” The Ravaged One stated, his voice making her want to clutch her ears so she’d never have to hear it again. It was a voice of pure anguish; raw, wounded and tortured all at once. “You have no need of that.”

Her pistol was suddenly yanked out of her hand and came to hover beside the Ravaged One, who extended a spindly hand from his robe, resting his palm underneath the hovering weapon. The skin was, or at least had been, a shade of purple. Now it was like the rest of him, faded almost to white. On the skin were open wounds, leaking a bluish liquid that didn’t fall to the ground, instead the liquid spread out along the arm until it appeared to be absorbed into the skin. A faint purple flare also accompanied each wound, and she witnessed multiple of those, opening and healing just as quickly.

What _was_ this thing?

The spindly finger wrapped around the pistol, and the Ravaged One brought it in front of his mask. “Inelegant, unrefined, but effective. Much like your own species; having potential, but failing to live up to it without a sculptor.”

He then tossed the pistol back to her which she missed the instant her fingers touched the metal, immediately feeling like her hand was on fire. She looked down at the burning hand, it shaking as she struggled to move the burned flesh. Gritting her teeth, she looked back up at the indifferent alien. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making you remember what _defines_ you,” it stated, causing her to wince and look away as the wail bored into her brain. “Sentient creatures are shaped by many things; family, friends, _life_. But those are just modern rationalizations for more primal factors. _Pain_ is the defining sculptor, one that shapes us on the outside and within. Your decisions in life are dictated by how much pain you are willing to endure for what you want, be it physical or mental.”

“Spare me your rationalization,” Saudia growled, trying to hide her voice from breaking. “You’ve made your point. You can stop it now.”

The Ravaged One turned to finally face her, and she got a look at the helm he wore. It must have once been prestigious, judging from the curves on the sides and raised ridge on the top. There were two slanted rectangles for eyeholes, and a gaping opening where she’d imagine the mouth would be. It might not have been the intention originally, but it looked like it was screaming. The rest of the helm was in disrepair, the metal dull and corroded, with a large gash over the left eyehole just allowing her a brief glimpse of a faint purple iris.

As she struggled not to take a step back, he answered. “What makes you think I _can_?”

“Because you started it in the first place,” she answered, shaking her head to try and clear a now-painful headache.

“You understand nothing of us,” The Ravaged One stated. “I do not _cause_ pain. I _recall_ it. It is not something I can stop any more than you can breathing.” His helmet inclined slightly. “The fact that you are still standing is a testament to your will, but you are not special. You simply contain decades of pain you’ve endured, healed and forgotten. Pain you are now reminded of. Pain you should have never forgotten to begin with.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Saudia growled. “Enduring it once is enough.”

“Because you will continue to make mistakes. Mistakes that will either cost your live of those of your family,” he answered dispassionately. “You hold the pain of your mistakes, I hold the pain of my species in order to never forget what we can lose when we believe we are invincible.”

“Enough,” she spat, resisting the urge to cry as she felt her skin on both arms being shredded by toxic thorns. “Why are you _here_?”

“You stated that you wanted to deal directly with us,” the Ravaged One answered, the air around him distorted slightly for a few seconds. “ _Here I am_.”

In retrospect, that seemed like a terrible idea now. “And what do you want?” She demanded through the pain.

“To remind you of your goal,” the Ravaged One stated. “The one you promised to help _us_ fulfill. A goal that you have failed to adequately complete. It was believed that you might be able to deal with XCOM, though that seems to have been disproven now, despite our help.”

“We’re dealing with them,” Saudia muttered, casting a furious glare at the alien.

“Not anymore,” he denied flatly. “Your directive has changed and should have never been that way to begin with. My predecessor mistakenly believed you to be nothing more than a blunt instrument. But what you are is a scalpel, not a sword. And now you will be utilized accordingly.”

He took a step toward her. “ _I_ will deal with _XCOM_. _You_ will ensure that the world collapses in _our_ favor.”

“And what does that entail?” Saudia demanded, gritting her teeth.

“Making the world go to war with each other,” the Ravaged One explained, looking down on her. “Humans are emotional and reactionary, something that you recognize and have exploited. I’ve studied your world over the past months, and there are countries to exploit, only if you have the courage to carry them out.”

“And what makes you think you can dictate what we do,” Saudia stated, allowing her anger to push away the pain temporarily. “This is an _alliance_ , nothing more. And after you’ve killed my-“

She was cut off as she felt herself enveloped in a tangible invisible field, and pulled off the ground towards the Ravaged One who extended a hand to catch her by the throat. Her skin felt on fire wherever the Elder touched, the acidic feeling enough to cause her to scream.

“What you _want_ is _irrelevant_ , Director,” The Ravaged One hissed, holding her several feet off the ground with no apparent effort. “You never _allied_ with us because you wanted to _help_. You only sought to _advance_ _yourselves_.” He took a painful breath and looked around. “Did you _really_ think you could _exploit_ us for your own selfish _power_?”

“We’ve _helped_ you!” Saudia insisted.

“You want to _rule_ ,” the Ravaged One hissed with certainly, his voice sending nails into her mind. “That is nothing less than your goal. But only a few stood in your way: the United Nations, and by extension, _XCOM_. You _knew_ you couldn’t beat them on your own, so you went to the only power that might give you what you _needed_. Your organization was _never_ about the _advancement_ of humanity. It was a means of _power_.”

“You are _wrong_ ,” Saudia hissed. “You know _nothing_ about us.”

“No?” The Ravaged One brought her in closer so she could clearly see the glowing purple iris. “Do not _lie_ , Director. Your mind is open to me, I know what you are. You _enjoy_ the power that comes with your position. You _thrive_ on authority over others, you _pride_ yourself on being controlled, collected and _superior_ to those around you.”

He tossed her back and dropped her near where she’d been standing before. Saudia coughed and gingerly touched her throat, immediately pulling pack as she felt the skin around her throat split open as soon as she touched it. As she struggled to her feet, the Ravaged One continued, withdrawing his arm into his robe.

“Your _arrogance_ made you believe you were immune to consequence. You were so sure of your own intelligence and superiority that you believed you could _betray_ us and take the world as _saviors_. Your delusions are at an _end_ , _Director_. Your goals are a pointless aside to ours, your motivations irrelevant. Live in your fantasy of rebellion if you wish, but you will carry out our instructions in the end.”

The Ravaged One took several steps toward her until he was directly over her. “You are not required for the future, Director. If _you_ cannot be loyal, then someone _else_ will take your place. _Do you understand_?”

“Yes,” she spat furiously. “ _Yes_ I do.”

“You say the words, but lie all the same,” the Ravaged One stated, as Saudia doubled over from a new wave of pain coming from her stomach. “Your thoughts aren’t hidden from me. You want to kill me; make me _pay_ for what I’ve done….” He looked down at her, as she fell to one knee. “These deaths are not _my_ fault, _Director_. They are a direct consequence of _your_ actions.”

He looked around the room in his ruined helm. “ _You_ were the one who wanted to speak to me, your pride preventing you from accepting anyone lower. _You_ are the one who decided to _use_ _us_ , your _superiority_ blinding you to the fact that you _aren’t_ special. _You_ are the one who wanted to betray us, your _arrogance_ deluding you into believing you are somehow _equal_.”

Saudia’s breathing increased rapidly the longer he spoke, her thoughts all jumbled as pain seemed to be coming everywhere within her. “Your species has _potential_ ,” the Ravaged One continued, a hand extending from the ruined robe, palm extending upwards. Saudia gasped as she was lifted up once again, suspended before the Ravaged One, her skin feeling like fire.

“ _That_ is the only reason I have elected to continue this agreement,” he stated, as her eyes rolled into her head as she struggled not to go into shock. “Because EXALT can still be _useful_. You just need _direction_. You need _motivation._ Your species will become part of the uplifted, Director, but _you_ …I know you will not last long in our remade world. You are too rebellious, too _independent_ to accept any truth other than your own.”

“Then why am I still _alive?”_ Saudia gasped, unable to move any part of her body caught in the Ravaged One’s stasis field.

“Because I require nothing more than your _loyalty_ ,” he answered firmly. “Killing you would be removing a potentially useful tool. You are talented, strong-willed and intelligent, Director. I lose more throwing EXALT into chaos with your death than leaving you alive. You may wish my death every day, but so long as you follow our directives, you will retain the power you crave.” He paused. “And should you fulfill your duties to us…you may even attain what you’ve sought since this organization was conceived.”

His hand was withdrawn back into his robe and she fell to the ground with a thud, the impact causing her to scream and she almost blacked out then. “Remember what you’ve endured today, Director,” the Ravaged One spoke above her. “Let this pain shape you into something greater than the selfish woman you are. Pray we do not meet again, because next time, you will die.”

She heard footsteps as he walked away, leaving her on the floor, trying to regain control of her muscles. “Farewell, Director,” she heard him say. _“Sleep_.”

And with that one command, Saudia Vyandar fell into a deep and tortured sleep.


	33. Alien Abduction: England

 

_Taipei, Taiwan_

The Commander had to admit the Taipei Botanical Garden was quite beautiful, and certainly made a nice change of meeting place from the regular secret rooms and offices. Just walking through the gardens, he could almost ignore the guards posted throughout, not to mention the four Taiwanese special forces agents who were keeping a reasonable distance away.

He suspected that his personal tails were more for intimidation rather than actually intending to kill him. He had no doubt that if they believed he was a threat, several snipers as well as every nearby soldier would be gunning for him. Those four were just a diversion. He did have to admit that their uniforms were striking; the Taiwanese didn’t mess around when it came to their special forces.

It was standard black Kevlar vests, pants and boots, like most special forces, but what made them stand out were the full facemasks that covered their faces completely except for the eyes. It was an impressive mix of intimidation and practicality, though the Commander didn’t really believe it would shake the composure of any professional.

He kept walking for a few minutes, hoping that he hadn’t made a wrong turn…no, he was headed the right way. She’d said she’d be at _this_ location, so that meant he was close. A couple minutes further and he saw her standing in front of an arrangement, hands clasped behind her back.

To her credit, President Rena Shu-chan of Taiwan, or the officially-called “Republic of China”, was without a personal guard of some kind. She likely didn’t see the need as their every move was watched by her special forces. She was dressed formally, in a black suit, pants and the like. Typical business attire.

He walked up beside her and looked at the arrangement of flowers which were designed in circles, each inner ring being a different color and flower. Not exactly original, but it was still a work that had likely taken many days, and even more to maintain. “I hope you don’t mind the different location,” Rena said, not looking at him. “I spend most of my days inside meeting rooms and windowless bunkers. You likely do the same; I thought you might appreciate a change of scenery.”

Her English was excellent, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She likely dealt with many foreign dignitaries, but still, it was arguably more understandable than native speakers, even with a slight accent. “I don’t mind at all, Excellency,” he answered, using the traditional honorific when addressing her. “It’s a refreshing change in multiple ways.”

Her lips curled up into a smile. “Yes, I believed so. Though I am curious, do you know much about flowers?”

An odd question, and one he didn’t exactly see the relevance for. He supposed it was her way of testing him for something. “I do not, Excellency. That was never an interest of mine, though I can appreciate them and the work put into gardens like this.”

She chuckled. “Good answer. _Safe_. You may not like the title of diplomat, but you play it well, which was more than I expected.”

He turned his head to look down at her. He was at least a head taller than her, though she was clearly not bothered by the size difference at all. “And just what _did_ you expect?”

She turned her calculating eyes towards him, the brown irises seemingly trying to capture every detail. Rena was younger than usual for her position, nearly fifty, with a kind, motherly face and black hair cut off just below the shoulder that had yet to gray. She was reportedly more intelligent than charismatic, but the Commander didn’t exactly buy that.

“Someone who doesn’t have time to deal with trivial questions,” she answered wryly. “Depending on the person, the Commander of XCOM is the embodiment of authority and respect, or a ruthless military dictator. You are a polarizing person, Commander, and I wondered which of your purported personalities would come through. I have my answer now.”

Assurance. That was what she had. Not exactly charisma, but the knowledge that she was in control and nothing could shake her. It was essential in cultivating loyalty, and it made him wonder if she was former military as well. Civilians generally lacked the intensity she displayed. “I don’t suppose you have any more trivial questions to ask me?”

“Not at this moment,” she answered, shaking her head and turned. “Walk with me. I think it’s time we get down to business.”

The Commander fell into step beside her as they walked peacefully through the gardens. “I’ll be honest, Commander,” she said while they walked. “I did not expect to be contacted by XCOM. Let alone personally meet with you.”

“Because of China, no doubt?” The Commander asked. “Though I do wonder how much you know about us to begin with.”

“Less than ideal,” Rena answered slowly. “The United Nations has only seen fit to give the basics, namely that XCOM is for dealing with the alien threat, and how to contact them if needing assistance. And while China was a large reason, the other one is that Taiwan would only be able to offer limited aid.”

“I suppose they would keep it quiet,” the Commander muttered. “But limited aid is not a concern for me.”

“Then tell me what this is about,” Rena stated firmly, looking at him intently for an answer. “Tell me why you would take such a risk even speaking to me in the first place? I know practical men when I see them, and you wouldn’t do this unless you have something to gain. So be honest, Commander: Do you wish a potential alliance only to strike back at the Chinese?”

Ah, she was good. “I won’t deny the satisfaction I’d get from that, yes,” he began honestly. “But it’s more than just your country, Excellency. It’s about what an alliance would represent to the world. Like it or not, Taiwan is the most obvious face of Chinese authoritarianism, but you are not the only one. Should XCOM acknowledge Taiwan as an independent country, it would show the world the Chinese are losing their power.”

“And as a way for you to weaken a country that has spited you in some way,” she added neutrally. “I don’t know what China did to you, Commander, and I don’t need to. But what happens if you simply provoke them into taking my country by force?”

The Commander smiled. “An alliance with XCOM would ensure your protection, Excellency. China may not be friendly, but they will not risk a war with XCOM, because they would lose.”

She snorted. “You are not a large organization, Commander. You could not win a war with China.”

“Not conventionally,” the Commander acknowledged. “But do you believe the world will simply sit by as China attempts to fight the only force working to stop the invasion? Aside from that, XCOM has allies, ones who would help if asked. Politics is the only reason superpowers like America refuse to acknowledge your independence; everyone knows it’s a power play by the Chinese. But no one actually has the courage to stand by their convictions.”

“And I suppose you do.” She mused.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“True,” she acknowledged with a nod. “Though I do wonder if you’d stick with them if the worst were to happen. You are a good speaker, I can see that. But words have no meaning without action. I know nothing about you, nothing that would back up what you promise. You make a good speech, one I agree with personally. But I’m not sure I should risk my country on your word alone.”

Interesting. She was taking a defensive approach, and one he couldn’t really argue with. He personally wouldn’t be swayed over if the leader of a secretive organization suddenly came to him promising what he’d always wanted. He’d be suspicious and rightfully so. Granted, the situation _was_ a bit different here, but not so much he couldn’t understand her hesitation.

Both of them needed to have something to lose. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be aware of who he really was, and now he might actually be able to turn that into an advantage. It was a risk, but it was worth it if he could begin disrupting Chinese influence across the world. Taiwan was the first step, and after that, ASEAN, Mongolia and if that didn’t curtail China, perhaps Zhang could work in Tibet, though that was a _very_ long shot.

“You’re right,” he said to her. “You have no proof of my intentions. Well, even if you don’t know it, I suspect that you _do_ know who I am, if only by reputation.”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps, but clearly no one worth remembering.”

He had to chuckle at that. “Can you keep a secret, Excellency?”

“Only if it does not threaten my country,” she promised.

“Good enough,” he nodded. “Do you recall the War on Terror?”

“I do,” she said, frowning. “It was something to witness. Why do you ask?”

“Because I am the Commander.”

She froze and looked at him, surprise contorting her face as she analyzed him again, as if for the first time. “I would normally say you were lying,” she said slowly after a few minutes of tense silence. “But you would not jest about this, nor would you think about claiming the identity of a man people consider a war criminal.”

“A label I don’t deny,” the Commander nodded. “But as I have stated to others before, I make no apologies for my actions. I only tell you this because you wanted assurance that I follow through on my convictions. China does not intimidate me, nor the United Nations. Should the worst happen, XCOM would stand with Taiwan politically and militarily.”

“And your true identity is being suppressed,” she noted. “I imagine the number of those who know is very small.”

“It is,” he said. “So I suppose I should know if this will be a problem now.”

She pursed her lips in disapproval. “You are not the person I would want to associate myself with, Commander. But I won’t deny that men like you are needed; in times like these more than ever. If this was anything less than an alien invasion, I would order your arrest,” she raised a hand to cut off a preemptive response. “But none of us have that luxury. You may be a terrible person, Commander, but you are one who gets results and can be relied upon, as long as we’re useful, at least.”

“My policy is very simply,” the Commander stated, crossing his arms. “Don’t intentionally make me your enemy and I’ll work with you. Neither you nor Taiwan has nothing to fear from me unless you start working with the aliens or try to kill me. Simple as that.”

“You certainly make it sound that way,” Rena noted. “But correct me if I am wrong; you _would_ kill me if you felt I posed a threat to your plans?”

“Since my plans involve protecting humanity from enslavement or annihilation, absolutely,” the Commander answered instantly, meeting her piercing gaze; his enhanced eyes seeing every detail of her worn face. “That does not apply solely to you, either.”

Rena gave a toothless smile. “You are bold, especially to declare that with such conviction. Most would consider it a threat.”

The Commander smiled back at her. “Do you?”

There was a short silence. “Since I do not plan to work against XCOM, no,” she answered finally. “Not yet, at least. But I assume you _do_ realize what sharing this means for you?”

“I know how this works,” he answered calmly. “We both need something to lose here. Should XCOM fail in it’s duty to protect Taiwan from threats, you have what you need to barter with the Chinese. Or simply have it as an insurance policy. Consider it however you like, but to me it’s a promise. One that I’ve bet everything I’ve done on.”

“Very well,” she nodded. “In that case, I do think we can come to an arrangement of some kind.” She extended a hand to him which he took without hesitation, one firm shake and it was unofficially sealed between them.

“Let us continue walking,” Rena gestured forward. “I’m sure there are final details to be worked out.”

“That there are,” the Commander agreed, hiding the satisfaction he was feeling. He sincerely wished that he could see the faces of their leaders when China learned what he’d done and how little they could do to stop him. Alas, he’d just have to imagine it and continue on. For the sake of humanity, he prayed they _wouldn’t_ do anything rash because he knew, like it or not, that China was going to be important in the coming invasion.

Hopefully by then they’d come together to defend humanity and drop their pointless feuds. But until then, he’d limit the damage they could do.

***

_California, United States of America_

“Is he up?” Jochern asked as he walked over to the table she was sitting at.

 _“I am here,”_ Zhang stated in response from the secured laptop. _“Report.”_

Right. Time to condense what they had into a manageable amount of time in a way that made sense. “Yes, Director. There are two suspects, one an investigative journalist and the other the chief editor. Nathan Rutherfield and Amy Cario, sending profiles now.”

Zhang looked off to the side and gave a nod. _“Received. State your cases for each.”_

“Nothing is proven,” Jochern preemptively said. “But there is a _lot_ of circumstantial evidence for each.”

“We’ll start with Nathan,” Abby began, pulling over the paper she’d written her notes on. “He’s definitely being paid by the United America Super-Pac, a new one that’s only come up within the past six months.”

“Which is around the time Kamili really began her bid for president,” Jochern added, satisfaction in his voice. He really seemed to enjoy nailing frauds and criminals, something she could relate to now. There really wasn’t a feeling like vindication for your suspicions.

“I have a complete file of his unedited papers,” Abby continued, typing on her keyboard. “All of them have a consistent theme, mainly smearing anyone else who’s not Kamili. He never flat-out endorses her, but she’s the only one free of his campaign. If EXALT is backing her, this would probably be how they do it.”

 _“Kamili doesn’t seem the type EXALT would support,”_ Zhang noted, frowning.

“I agree,” Abby nodded. “But that may be intentional, and if so, it’s working. Everyone is speculating that in a few days she’ll be ahead in the polls. She has a real shot a winning the Republican nomination now.”

“Even if he’s not EXALT, he’s definitely corrupt,” Jochern added. “We definitely have enough to get him fired.”

 _“I see,”_ Zhang said neutrally. _“Good work. What about the chief editor?”_

“No concrete evidence one way or another,” Abby admitted. “It’s not so much what we _have_ but what she’s _done_. Anything even remotely related to XCOM is always slanted against us; my own work where I deliberately tried to be as neutral as possible wasn’t enough. She’s essentially had me insinuate that XCOM performed a criminal attack in China and that they will respond.”

 _“That is suspicious,”_ Zhang muttered. _“And a problem regardless of her being EXALT or not.”_

“I’ve done what I could,” Abby said with a shrug. “But I couldn’t do much without raising suspicion. Since we have enough evidence on Nathan, we’ll begin moving to-”

 _“Unnecessary, Agent Gertrude,”_ Zhang interrupted, raising a hand. _“I presume you have developed contingencies in the event they needed to be removed?”_

Abby and Jochern exchanged a look. Jochern shrugged and Abby looked back at the screen. “We have, yes, but they haven’t been refined.”

 _“Do so,”_ Zhang ordered. _“Then capture both suspects and interrogate them.”_

Abby blinked in shock. “We’re not sure _either_ of them are EXALT, Director. One of them very likely might be-“

 _“Innocent, at least in regards to EXALT,”_ Zhang finished, emotionless as usual. _“Regardless, you’ve named them your suspects and I trust your instincts and evidence you’ve gathered. The Commander has ordered EXALT’s media network be crippled immediately, there is no longer time to determine exact proof of guilt or innocence.”_

“So you want us to interrogate them afterwards?” Jochern asked incredulously. “Neither of us have the experience-“

 _“Then consider this a learning experience,”_ Zhang stated bluntly. _“These are plants, not hardened soldiers. I presume you know how to run an interrogation, Abby, you know what to do.”_

Abby pursed her lips. “Yes, Director. I can do it.”

Jochern looked at her in surprise. “You can?”

 _“Extract what information you can,”_ Zhang instructed. _“Then kill them. EXALT will not be fooled, but the rest of the world must be convinced it was an accident.”_

Abby could see that being viable if they didn’t comply, but then what if they _did_. “What if they speak voluntarily?”

 _“Then kill them,”_ Zhang repeated. _“They are useless to us alive, and would cause more problems than would be worth it.”_

“Right,” Jochern muttered, looking more disconcerted than anything. “So how are we going to coerce them without the promise of freedom or the comfort of a nice jail cell?”

 _“Lie,”_ Zhang stated, frost entering his tone as he was clearly becoming annoyed at the obvious questions. _“They are not owed the truth, if you must give them a promise, allow them a quick death.”_

“Understood, Director,” Abby muttered. “It will be done.”

 _“Very good,”_ Zhang nodded firmly. _“I will speak to you in three days. By then I want your mission completed and your return to the Citadel.”_

“Understood,” Abby repeated dully. Zhang reached over and the screen went to static.

Both of them were silent for a few minutes as they pondered what they’d been ordered.

“You gonna do it?” Jochern asked finally, looking at her.

She blinked. “Do what? We have our orders-“

“Yeah, orders to kill two potentially innocent people,” he pointed out. “Look, Nathan’s a corrupt jerk and Amy’s a biased idiot. But if we’re wrong, I don’t think they deserve to _die_ for that. Courts exist for a reason.”

“I know, I know,” Abby said, knowing exactly what Ruth would say. She’d have no qualms about killing them, arguing in the case of Nathan that they were removing a corrupt writer from the scene and with Amy making it safer for XCOM. The thing was, not everything they were doing was illegal, just suspicious.

“And torture them,” Jochern continued, growing more agitated as he began pacing. “I’m fine with scaring them; maybe hit them in the knees a few times, but I draw the line at cutting off fingers and stuff. And what was that about you knowing how to do it?”

Abby rested her head in her hand. “I was party to one of the Commander’s interrogations once; and I…helped interrogate an EXALT agent that had been captured.”

“Weren’t you a doctor?” Jochern asked incredulously. “Isn’t that breaking one of your codes or something-“

“What are you getting at?!” She demanded, slamming a balled fist onto the table. “You think I _wanted_ do that? That I _enjoyed_ it?”

His mouth opened and closed a few seconds as he visible made an effort to control himself. “No, no, I’m sorry Abby. I just…I really don’t want to do this. If we’re _wrong_ …”

“I know,” she admitted sadly. “We’ve just condemned two innocent people to die.”

“Maybe they’re both EXALT,” Jochern said wearily. “It wouldn’t be great, but at least I could sleep easier.”

Abby sincerely hoped that was true, but also knew the chances of that weren’t likely. In fact, it was more likely _neither_ of them were EXALT. “Jochern…don’t get your hopes up.”

His face fell and he sank into the chair next to her. “Unrealistic, I know,” he muttered. “But if they’re _not_ EXALT…do we really have to kill them?”

“We have orders,” Abby reminded him. “I’d say that answers your question.”

“But it isn’t _right,”_ Jochern insisted. “Look, at least with Nathan we have enough to turn him over to the police. Win-win for everyone, right? We could just say our cover was blown and we had to either turn him in or let him go.”

Abby eyed him. “Do you really think Zhang would buy that story?”

He pursed his lips. “No.”

“And we’d look like idiots, as well as likely get punished for lying,” Abby added, shaking her head. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but unless you get Zhang to say otherwise…we have to follow our orders.”

“Even if they’re wrong?” Jochern questioned.

“Even if they’re wrong,” Abby repeated quietly. “Zhang knows the big picture, we don’t. He has a plan we don’t know and if we screw that up somehow, who knows how many agents will die because of us.”

“It seems like you’re using someone else’s justification,” Jochern noted dryly.

Abby shrugged. “I am. But it doesn’t matter if it’s justified or not. The woman who told me that also stated one overriding fact.”

“Which is?”

“Zhang is the Director,” Abby grabbed a piece of paper and began writing. “We are not. Doesn’t matter how we feel or what we want. We have our orders and are expected to fulfill them.” She handed the piece of paper of Jochern who eyed it with confusion. “Get everything on that list,” Abby instructed, rising from her chair. “If we’re going to interrogate them…this will hopefully force them to give up quickly.”

Jochern looked at her, a guarded expression on his face, the first time he’d looked like that around her. “Yes, sir,”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “If you won’t do it, I will.”

“No need,” he muttered. “I’ll manage.”

He practically stormed out the door, leaving her alone for the moment. She took a breath. This wasn’t what she’d expected, nor what she wanted to do, but she had not choice now. How would Ruth handle this?

Actually, that didn’t matter. Ruth wasn’t here. This was _her_ operation and she’d do it her way.

Although it seemed like her way was going to be very similar to how Ruth would handle it, given the restrictions Zhang had placed on her. With some reluctance, she sat down again and began writing ideas about the best way to kill two people and make it look like an accident.

But to her surprise, it ended up being easier than she’d suspected. It was an oddly simple trick.

All she really had to do was not consider them people anymore.

Only as the enemy.

Only as EXALT.

Only as traitors.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“I trust your meeting went well?” Shen asked while they waited for Vahlen.

“We both got what we wanted,” the Commander answered, leaving out the reason he’d been able to convince her. “Within a few days Taiwan will be sending several soldiers and funding. It will be…interesting to see China’s reaction.”

“That it will be,” Shen agreed, looking down at the holomap. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see the day when Taiwan’s independence would be recognized.”

The Commander looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re familiar with them?”

“For a while,” Shen answered wistfully. “I was born and raised there, though immigrated to America when I was in my early twenties. Still, I’m more familiar with their situation than most.”

Huh. He wondered why Shen’s dossier didn’t mention that. Even if he’d left relatively soon, there should have been at least a note. He supposed it didn’t matter now. “I didn’t know,” he admitted. “This would be more important than I thought then for you.”

“It is,” Shen agreed. “And I do want to thank you for it, Commander. Regardless of your questionable methods, you do stand by your principles. That I can at least respect.”

The Commander inclined his head in thanks. “I appreciate that. Hopefully we can turn this crisis into a better world afterwards.”

“That would be ideal,” Shen concurred, before both of them turned as the door hissed open and Vahlen walked in.

“Commander,” she greeted, giving his salute which he returned.

“Right,” the Commander rested his hands on the holotable as he looked at both of them across from him. “The teams are clearing the last parts of the alien base, so I don’t see a point in delaying what your teams have found. Shen, what can we use?”

“We now have a sizable stockpile of alloys, weapon fragments and MELD,” Shen answered, lifting his tablet as he scrolled through. “The aliens also left behind quite a bit of usable equipment we might be able to use as well. I believe we’ll be able to reverse-engineer the alien computers now that we have a large number in stock.”

“We also have all the data from the experiments the sectoids were running,” Vahlen added, stepping forward. “Zhang’s team is going through the data gathered to translate it, but may need your assistance.”

“He’ll have it,” the Commander assured her. “What equipment have you been able to find that could be useful?”

“While the sectoids methods are even harsher than ours, their technology _is_ extremely developed,” Vahlen continued, looking highly pleased. “I believe I can adapt their autopsy pods for our purposes, as well as the data they’ve collected on other species.”

“It might as well go to some use,” the Commander agreed. “And the test subjects?”

“Executed and prepared for autopsy, as per your orders.”

“What of the cloning equipment?” The Commander asked, looking intently at her.

“Secured and after the more… _pressing_ experiments are finished, I’ll be taking a much closer look,” Vahlen answered. “The sectoid virus is almost ready to deploy, though since there seem to be different variants, the structure might have to be tweaked to be lethal for all the genetically different ones.”

“How long will that take?” The Commander demanded.

“I have access to the genetic structure of every sectoid template,” Vahlen revealed happily. “Days at most. Should we need to confirm, we have the cloning equipment to grow our own sectoids.”

“That does not seem a wise idea,” Shen cautioned with a skeptical look.

“We have a lot more to do than grow pet sectoids,” the Commander agreed. “Right now I’m more interested in if you’ve found a way to determine psionic soldiers.”

“It appears sectoid technology _does_ do that automatically,” Vahlen answered. “However, I’m developing a way to… _accelerate_ the process, so to speak. It was several weeks before Patricia demonstrated any tangible powers, and I think we can both agree it would be beneficial if that time wasn’t needed. Thanks to the abundance of tech, I should have a prototype done within a week.”

The Commander smiled. “Excellent, both of you. Now, there are two more things that need to be discussed. Shen, this one mostly pertains to your team, but Vahlen, yours might be needed as well.”

“I’m listening, Commander,” Shen said.

The Commander tapped his finger on the holotable. “Nartha has stated an invasion is coming and I believe him. On the ground, I think we’re making enough stride where we could wage a reasonable war. But the problem is that we are mostly a reactionary force; as of right now, there is no efficient way to stop air attacks. We lack a powerful fleet.”

“You want to upgrade the Ravens?” Shen guessed.

“That won’t be enough,” the Commander shook his head. “We need a new aircraft, one built from alien tech and metal. Spaceworthy if possible.”

“I’ll have my team get started immediately,” Shen promised. “Though we have quite a few projects going on already, you’ll have to prioritize.”

“Focus on the aircraft for now,” the Commander ordered. “I’ll have Bradford call in additional help from our allies. Also, you said that the Ballista-class MEC was ready for production?”

“It is,” Shen handed him a tablet. “The Goliath-class is also nearly complete, though the size is making simulations difficult. An additional design is also in the preliminary stages, but I’ve already ordered a Ballista-class to be constructed.”

“Speaking of which, three new MEC pilots will be arriving to the Citadel shortly,” the Commander added as he looked over the schematics. “They’ve all been cleared and appraised of the procedure.”

Shen gave a firm nod. “I wish there was a better way, but we’ve sadly made no progress on that front.”

“Unfortunate,” the Commander agreed. “But they know what they’re signing up for.” He pressed several buttons on the holotable and the schematics of the alien base came up. “Now, my last point. I want to begin preparations for the Hephaestus Contingency.”

“You’ve wanted to do that several times, if I recall,” Vahlen noted wryly.

“I did,” the Commander answered, the corners of his lips curled up. “But there was never a suitable location,” he motioned at the hologram. “That has now changed.”

Shen blinked. “Are you sure that’s a good idea. The aliens-“

“That’s what I want your team to determine,” the Commander clarified. “The sectoids might have places bugs or distress signals around the base. Sweep it and see if it can be made safe.”

“Even if we do,” Shen added. “The aliens will still know where it is.”

“True,” the Commander nodded. “But it’s pretty defensible, and is a backup in the first place. But aside from them, no one else knows it exists. It would be a mistake to let it go to waste.”

“I’ll have my team get started on that right away,” Shen promised.

“There is also that communications device we recovered,” Vahlen reminded him. “If we could tap into it…”

“We might be able to pinpoint another base,” The Commander finished thoughtfully.

“I suppose the question is who the Hive Commander was in communication with,” Shen wondered. “Another Hive Commander? Or an Ethereal?”

“As much as I dislike the thought, an Ethereal is more likely,” the Commander said grimly, scratching his chin. “Nartha did say an Ethereal was in command, and I don’t think the Ethereals would be able to put multiple Hive Commanders on Earth, at least without _someone_ noticing.”

“Which means a retaliation is coming,” Vahlen guessed, pursing her lips. “Whatever their plans, I doubt losing that base was among them.”

“I suppose the question is if we’ve done enough to provoke the Ethereal,” the Commander said. “Apparently the previous one was… _lax_ , but Nartha did say she’d been replaced. If losing an entire base doesn’t warrant a response, I’m not sure what will.”

“All we can do is prepare,” Shen said wearily. “But I suspect when the aliens strike back, we’ll know about it.”

And _that_ was what the Commander was afraid of. Because the aliens needed to send a message to them; and worried about the size of that message.

People were going to die; it was only a question of whether the casualties would be in the hundreds or thousands.  

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

“I’ve sent out orders for all suspected EXALT plants to be captured, interrogated and executed,” Zhang updated, handing the Commander a tablet displaying the current ongoing operations. “EXALT’s propaganda network will be crippled within the week.”

“Hopefully they’ll back off after this,” the Commander muttered. “I think we now need to turn to ensuring that countries haven’t been infiltrated by Vitakara agents.”

“I agree that needs to be done,” Zhang nodded, resting himself on the small holotable. “But I would prefer we ensure that we can hit EXALT hard again if they don’t back off.”

“Solaris Industries?” The Commander prompted.

“Exactly,” Zhang confirmed firmly, the light illuminating the scar on his cheek. “It will be a small operation, but it shouldn’t be too hard. All we need is evidence.”

“Which agents have you assigned?” The Commander asked, knowing Zhang had likely planned all of this in advance.

“Ruth and Kalonymous,” Zhang answered. “Their assignments are completed and they’re ready to go. All this needs is your authorization.”

“Granted,” the Commander nodded. “And I’m curious; how is Abby doing?”

“Well; if her report is anything to go by,” Zhang answered, sounding pleased. “She didn’t exactly seem comfortable with my orders, but I’m certain she’ll follow them. Pairing her with Ruth initially was the right move.”

The Commander was pleased to hear that. It seemed Abby was embracing what she could do as an agent. “Glad to hear it.”

“There is another matter we should discuss,” Zhang added, straightening up. “China.”

“You think they’ll take our alliance with Taiwan that badly?” The Commander asked skeptically. “Sure, they’ll make a large international fuss, but they have nothing tangible to threaten us but words.”

“And armies,” Zhang corrected. “And I agree; China will likely not become a problem, but if it _does_ we need to be ready.”

“Preparations for the Hades Contingency in China?” The Commander asked. “I would think that would be a little more involved than Germany.”

“Without a doubt,” Zhang agreed grimly. “And unlike Germany, we don’t have public unrest to hide behind. Authoritarian regimes are harder to break than democracies.”

“And yet I suspect you have an idea,” the Commander guessed with a small smile.

“I do,” Zhang agreed. “But you won’t like it.”

“I don’t like the fact that this is an option to begin with. Tell me.”

“We could use the Triad,” Zhang offered. “Or what’s left of it.”

The Commander pursed his lips, silence stretching between them for a minute. “I don’t want to enable criminals,” he finally said. “Localized terrorism is useful, but the problem is that we do not control the Triad. They would escalate it beyond what we want.”

“Which is why we’d ensure they get put down afterwards,” Zhang added, setting his tablet down. “We have the majority of the Triad’s military attack their military complexes for alien tech, and afterwards leak the remaining locations of the Triad to the Chinese who’ll wipe them out for good. Combined with the majority of their government being assassinated, that should significantly weaken China for a short while.”

“And just how would you convince them to follow a suicide mission?” The Commander asked wearily. “The Triad usually aren’t stupid.”

“No,” Zhang agreed with a smile. “But they are desperate now. Desperate enough to attempt a blatant attack on the Chinese government. And if that isn’t enough…we have a psionic who can control minds, yes?”

The Commander smiled at that. “That we do,” he agreed quietly. “In fact…I do think it might be a good idea to test some of your agents for psionic sensitivity. It would be far easier to carry this out through proxies.”

“True,” Zhang nodded. “However…we should be careful to not become reliant on them. I am not comfortable with someone having that much power with no safeguards. We have no defense in case one goes rogue.”

“Which is why for now I would suggest you only test agents you trust completely,” the Commander suggested. “That being said, I know. Has Vahlen briefed you on the Manchurian Program?”

“Yes,” Zhang answered. “But as far as I know, no further progress has been made.”

“Because it hasn’t,” the Commander sighed. “The Engineering and Research teams have too many projects and too few staff. At the moment preparing for the invasion takes priority over potentially rogue agents.”

“We should begin a recruitment drive from our allies,” Zhang stated. “They can spare some scientists. Should we ally with North Korea, I’d imagine they would send over their best.”

“No, I want North Korea focused on the Directive,” the Commander disagreed. “They have the facilities to do it on a large scale and we don’t. Their time is best spent on that.”

“Speaking of that, when are you going to put it in motion?” Zhang asked slowly, crossing his arms. “We are running out of time.”

“Once the Korean situation is resolved, Taiwan is officially allied and we get ASEAN’s attention,” the Commander answered. “Then I will approach the countries. But before that I’ll bring everyone up to speed on it.”

“Let me know,” Zhang commented, a rare smile on his face. “I want to see Van Doorn’s face when you tell him your plan.”

“I think it’s more than a plan now,” the Commander sighed wearily as he recalled what he’d written. “At this point, it is probably our only hope.”

***

_The Citadel, Medical Ward_

“Still no response?” Patricia asked without much hope.

“None,” Blake answered as he looked at several monitors. “Still comatose, though thankfully isn’t getting worse. I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong with him. Physically he’s fine.”

Patricia pursed her lips. “It’s not physical, doctor.” To anyone else, Anius Creed probably looked like he was sleeping, but underneath Patricia could still sense the faint consistency of panic, fear and rage. Whatever the Hive Commander had done to him, it was probably not going to go away on his own.

Which meant she’d have to try and help.

She didn’t know how yet, nor was she going to do it right this minute. But it would have to be soon because she didn’t want to risk him being trapped in his mind for days and then go insane. Then again, she could very well cause the same thing since she had no fucking clue how to fix him. For all she knew, she’d doomed him when she’d forced him to sleep.

If he never woke up, it would be her fault, justified or not.

She gently placed one of her hands over his limp one. “I’ll help you,” she whispered to him. “Just hold on for a little longer.”

No response, physically or otherwise.

Blake cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a few seconds. “I’ll do what I can for him…but if you’re worried about him, you should try to help him sooner than later. This is outside my expertise, Patricia, you know better than me what his chances are.”

She probably did, and that was terrifying to her. Giving her thanks to the doctor, she rose and left the room, barely paying attention to her surroundings.

The blind leading the blind; that was how she felt right now. She was only fumbling her way through this; experimenting with no actual expectations or results. She could be doing everything wrong and not knowing it. And yet she was the only one who had something of a clue how psionics actually worked.

Oh, Vahlen certain had theories and was no doubt trying to figure the concrete science of it out, but strapping sensors to her head and asking endless questions would never convey even for a second what it was like to control someone’s mind, see their thoughts, or force your will upon them. Science could adequately explain that, and even in her limited experience she knew she was only scratching the surface of the possibilities.

And now she’d have to help four more get through what she did.

She almost wished she’d kept the Hive Commander alive, if only to extract what it knew about the proper training of psionics. Although she was certain the Hive Commander would have driven itself insane long before she’d been able to find that. But killing the Hive Commander in such a… _vindicating…_ fashion had been… _liberating_.

Some part of her had always held back, some part of morality had always stopped her from being as lethal as possible when she used her powers. But she’d never known just what she could do until she’d driven the Hive Commander insane. Sure, she could have tried getting some information out of it, that’s what she’d implied to the Commander at least, but in reality…

All she’d really wanted to do was vent.

Seeing Maria kill Sarah, Eden and Afif killing themselves and Creed attacking her had removed any ounce of mercy she’d had towards the alien. And so she’d trapped the creature in it’s mind, killing it again and again, slowly destroying it’s mind piece by piece as it’s psyche fractured as she made it believe it was drowning in acid or burning alive.

The mind was perhaps to vivid for it’s own good.

She’d been too far in the trance, but from what Carmelita had described, it had been unnerving even to her. That wasn’t to say she didn’t learn anything practical from the Hive Commander. She now knew how a sectoid mind worked, and most importantly, possible methods for blocking psionic attacks.

It was funny, she’d hadn’t even been trying to get that. But the Hive Commander had tried it in the beginning, knowing how it worked. But it was too weak and she was in control of it’s mind. So any initial attempts soon failed and the torture began.

It was odd. She hadn’t really known what to feel after. Some of the soldiers had looked at her funny after she’d finished, their emotions conflicted. Even Carmelita wasn’t completely comfortable, though Patricia suspected it was more because psionics unnerved her than any misguided sympathy for the alien itself.

But she didn’t feel bad at all. On some level she knew that it was wrong, unethical, whatever. But she didn’t feel that at all, if anything she felt _justified_. And why should she be? There were few fitting punishments for what the alien had done.

Back during the days of the War on Terror, she’d wondered and theorized exactly _how_ the Commander justified his actions. Everyone had been condemning him, the media, her friends, the government, especially during the later days. Yet she’d never been convinced they were completely _right_.

Everything he’d done was morally reprehensible, but what stood out to her now was that no one looked at the victims, at least not under a microscope. No one could commit atrocities like that and _still_ keep doing them without _something_ more. She’d wondered what had driven him. Rage, grief, hate, all those had seemed likely possibilities, but those emotions were fleeting and burned out quicker.

But now she thought she might have the answer. _Justice_. How else could a man kill so many people and not be able to justify it in some way? What could cause such a lack of empathy that the principle method of execution was crucifixion. Because the Commander had believed it was _justified_. It wasn’t sadism, racism, mental illness or whatever reason people had tried to explain his actions.

No, she suspected that the Commander had had a similar epiphany to her.

Some beings didn’t deserve mercy.

Some didn’t deserve to live.

Simple as that.

Why should she care about the feelings of an alien any more than she did a wasp or rattlesnake? Why should the Commander have cared about the pain of a terrorist that had likely killed, and would kill more?

Because it was _wrong_?

Maybe. But then the question had to be raised. Why?

And that was what she’d been trying to figure out. If what she’d done was wrong, _why_ was it wrong? Or was she just wondering that because society had conditioned her to think that? Because just based on how she _felt_ …she was completely fine. Vindicated. _Justified_.

She wished Creed was awake to she could talk to him about this. He might be the only one who understood where she was coming from, or that she felt comfortable with talking with in the first place. Paige would have been the only one, and even if she hadn’t been dead, Patricia wasn’t sure she’d really understand. Paige had been a good woman, in every sense of the word.

Patricia had always considered herself to be…decent. Not the best person in the world, but not the worst either.

Now though, she wasn’t sure she’d even reach that bar.

No, scratch that. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She wasn’t a good person, not anymore.

But then that raised a new question.

Did it matter?

Was anything going to change just because she wasn’t what was considered a good person? Would the aliens care? Would her soldiers? Would the Commander? Probably not. The longer this went on, it seemed like people were realizing that they needed to do whatever it took for them to survive.

And if a few rules were broken along the way, so be it.

She realized she had walked right up to the Mess Hall. Well, at least she’d come to the right place. All of them were already inside; it was interesting, psionic humans _were_ extremely distinct from regular ones. It was faint, but there all the same. She opened the door and walked inside.

Iosif, Galia and Alexei were all sitting at a nearby table and hushed up as she walked up. “On time, good,” she said as she took a seat to face all of them.

“So…” Alexei said after a few seconds. “How does all this work?”

Patricia rested her hands on the table and took a moment to feel the general state of them. Galia was optimistic, Iosif and Alexei were more skeptical and nervous about the whole ordeal. All were fine, these were professionals, they could handle this with the right instructions. Of course, those instructions had to be from her.

No pressure, right?

“I’ll have a better idea in a moment,” she answered. “First I need to know if you’ve felt different recently.”

“Right…” Alexei started off. “Is it normal that I’m…well, hearing things? Voices to be specific?”

“And sometimes images, feelings that aren’t yours?” she finished. “Yes, I heard the same things. You’re not going crazy if you’re worried about that. You’re just glimpsing other minds.”

His eyes widened slightly. “People?”

“People,” she repeated. “It’ll become stronger the more you concentrate on it. If you experience it similar to me, there will be times when it’s going to be overwhelming. There are some ways to block it I’ll show you later.”

“Well, that’s good I guess,” Alexei said, his relief very apparent. “It’s really strange that the stuff I’m receiving is coming from someone.”

“I’m somewhat similar,” Galia interjected. “Though it’s more strong emotions than voices per-se. I mean, I’m hearing a couple to, but I don’t think to the extend Alexei is.”

“Have you tried doing anything with them?” Patricia asked. “Or tried to reach the source?”

“I…” Galia paused, her lips pursing. “No. I could do that?”

“There’s a lot you could do,” Patricia said. “But as a general rule, I don’t deliberate seek people out like that unless I have their consent. You all should adopt that as well.”

“So are we just going to practice on each other?” Iosif asked.

“Or if you find someone willing,” Patricia amended. “It’s not impossible.”

“So _that’s_ why you and Creed were spending so much time together,” Galia commented, smiling. “Your guinea pig?”

Patricia eyed the woman cautiously, not liking where this was headed. “Yes, of sorts. What did _you_ think was going on?”

“Oh, nothing much,” she said lightly. “But that was sweet of him to volunteer.”

“Oh, don’t lie,” Patricia muttered, resting her forehead on her hand in disbelief trying to quell the red rising in her face. “I can sense _exactly_ what you meant by that.”

“And you know what,” Galia smirked. “I’m pretty sure I just felt you as well.”

“Well, this is just a _fascinating_ topic,” Alexei interrupted sarcastically. “Yeah, your point is made, Patricia. Anyway, Iosif has us all beat.”

“Don’t set high expectations,” Iosif warned with a sigh. “Seriously. All I can do is make some purple lights.”

Well, that was new. “Go on,” Patricia encouraged.

He nodded and took a breath. His face set and body tense, nothing happened for a couple minutes. Then small wisps of purple energy wrapped around his raised arm, becoming more frequent and visible. Iosif flipped his hand palm up and some of the energy conjoined to form a small shimmering square.

“And watch this,” Alexei muttered to her as he picked up a fork. Taking a reverse grip, he lightly stabbed down on the glowing square and was soundly denied. Iosif grunted and the square vanished along with the energy on his arm. Taking a few breaths, he righted himself and quickly drunk from a nearby glass.

“I can’t hold it very long,” Iosif explained. “And if it’s disturbed at all…I just lose focus. I’m not really hearing voices or emotions like the others, at least not nearly as frequent. But there’s something else in me now, a well of power for lack of a better term. One I can summon if I try.”

“Can you do that?” Galia asked.

Patricia hesitated. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Maybe if I tried? Or maybe there are different abilities some are better at than others. Honestly, no one really knows the intricacies of psionics, I’m figuring out a lot of it as I go along.”

“So I guess just practice?” Iosif asked.

“Yes,” Patricia encouraged. “That’s impressive, especially only after a few days. But yes, practice and you’ll get better and stronger. What also helps are strong emotions, those sometimes give me the extra boost I need.”

“Is that dangerous?” Alexei asked with a frown.

“Only if you allow them to consume you,” Patricia answered. “Keep control and you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ok,” Galia began. “What-“

They were cut off as a light buzzing reached their ears. Galia looked down to see her wristband vibrating. “Seems the aliens have struck again,” she sighed and stood. “Duty calls.”

That was a pretty quick response, but Patricia supposed the aliens were continuing on with their business as usual. “Good luck, we’ll work on this later.”

“See you soon,” she said with a wave before whistling for Aluma to come to her. The dog trotted up to her, happy as could be as Galia scratched his chin. Patricia turned back to Alexei and Iosif after she left.

“Alright,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I have some ideas of what you can do to improve, but remember that what works for me might not for you. It seems like abilities vary from person to person.”

“You’ve had this longer than anyone,” Iosif said, inclining his head. “I’ll trust you.”

“Same here,” Alexei agreed. “You know what you’re doing.”

She sincerely hoped so. “In that case, let’s get started.”

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Optimistic.

Galia wasn’t sure that was _quite_ what she should be feeling right now; or even as a proper reaction to what was happening to her. Although she couldn’t really place why she felt like that. How _were_ you supposed to react to learning that you’d be able to read minds?

Well, if movies and shows, especially American one, were anything to go by, she should probably try and hide it, or be ashamed of it for some reason. Or she could skip the self-pity part of the plot and get to accepting what she could do and using it to change the world.

Well…maybe not _quite_ that drastic. But she could certainly try.

Aluma whined at her as she put her armor on and she smiled as she rubbed her head happily and gave her one of the rolls from the mess hall. The little mutt _knew_ when she was in a good mood, and anyone who believed dogs couldn’t detect emotions was either lying or hadn’t owned one of their own. It was just one reason she trusted Aluma with her life, and in some cases found her to be more reliable than some people.

“[Things are going to change, girl,]” she said affectionately to the dog as she pulled on her gauntlets. “[And _you_ are going to help me with it.]”

Aluma may not have understood fluent Hebrew, but she could pick up on the meaning easily enough. Maybe dogs were inherently psionic; she honestly wouldn’t be surprised. “[Alright,]” Galia told her as she reached for the other set of armor. “{Your turn. Hold still.]”

Now experienced with putting on Aluma’s armor, it only took a few minutes before it was securely on the German Shepherd. Galia really felt like she owed Lily some kind of payment for what she’d created. Galia sincerely doubted that the IDF would have even considered such a tool, let alone actually made a working prototype.

Now all armored up, Galia stood and motioned for Aluma to fall into step beside her. “[Come on,]”

Tail wagging, Aluma happily walked beside her as they walked to the hangar. Galia wondered if the aliens were striking now in retaliation, or if this was planned all along. Neither would surprise her, truth be told, but whatever the case, she was looking forward to sending them to whatever their equivalent of hell was.

As of this moment, she had a somewhat humorous theory that whatever hell the aliens believed in, XCOM was going to be there.

Preferably all the soldiers they’d killed.

When Galia had first been transferred to XCOM, she’d not really expected to become as…invested as she was. But here, she actually felt like she was making a real difference. Doing something that _mattered_. Not that her old position _hadn’t_ per-se…but it wasn’t the large impact that she’d dreamed of. Dreams she’d lowered when faced with reality, and had resigned herself that though she might make an impact, it would be very small and the number of people who really noticed or cared would be even fewer.

Because no one cared about a _prevented_ crime; no, what got attention were the ones that _succeeded._ Or if a soldier was killed during an operation. Aside from that, people like her might as well not exist. To some extent, she was fine with that, she’d never wanted a spotlight thrust on her, but she _did_ enjoy the feeling of progress, which had been scarce. There would always be more criminals, murderers and rapists in the world. All she was doing was removing a couple at a time.

But here, even though it should have been the opposite, she actually felt like they were making progress. Each successful mission was a strike against an enemy who would be forced to replenish again and again. XCOM kept advancing, growing more powerful the more victories they earned. Even if she hadn’t been here during the first months, the fact that XCOM had saved Germany, destroyed a Dreadnought and now taken an alien base _couldn’t_ be ignored.

Sure, the aliens would want to strike back. But now she felt they stood a decent chance, especially when backed with Myra, Patricia, Carmelita and the Commander himself. And if her psionic abilities could ensure their victory, she’d work day and night to be the best XCOM had to offer. It was time Patricia had some competition anyway.

They reached the hangar and the door slid open to reveal most of the assembled squad waiting already. Galia felt a brief flash of emotions, calm, elated, nervous, and they vanished just as quickly. She supposed they came in spurts at first, and would grow consistent with time. She’d have to experiment later, find someone willing to allow her to literally pick their mind.

She recognized some of them, there was a pretty good mix of newer soldiers and veterans, she falling somewhere in the middle. Josue and Malcom had been with XCOM since the beginning, and were by all accounts excellent soldiers, even if they hadn’t really made a name for themselves like Carmelita or Creed.

Augustine noticed her walking up. “Does that tire her out?” He asked, clearly referring to Aluma’s armor.

“A bit,” Galia answered, noting he’d strapped a good number of symbiote grenades to his waist. “But unless she wears it for more than a few hours, she’ll be fine.”

“Legitimate dog armor,” a new woman noted, walking up and looking at the dog curiously. “XCOM is just full of surprises.”

“Thank Shen’s daughter,” Galia chuckled. “She was the one who made it. She really doesn’t want anything to happen to Aluma.”

“Really, who would?” She agreed, scratching Aluma under her unprotected chin.

“Galia, this is Charlotte,” Augustine introduced. “I don’t think you’ve met before.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Galia said, extending a hand. “Former Oketz operative, IDF.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware Israeli special forces had a canine unit,” she answered, taking the hand. “Charlotte Ronja, Switzerland ARD 10 Medic.”

“Isn’t Switzerland neutral in everything?” Josue asked, walking up, his gauss rifle slung over the back of his green-cameoed armor. “I didn’t even know you had a special forces unit.”

“Just because we don’t take sides doesn’t mean we can’t defend ourselves,” Charlotte refuted lightly. “But I think with humanity at stake, Switzerland can do so this one time.”

“Saving it for when it counts,” Augustine added. “I like it.”

“Take note, countries of the currently free world,” Josue continued humorously. “If Switzerland is taking sides, it might be a good idea to follow suit.”

The hangar doors slid open behind them and Galia saw James, Pavel, Anneli and one of the pilots walk in. Since none of the gathered soldiers had given any indication, she assumed that James was the Squad Overseer. A JF2 operative would be the best choice, even if pretty much everyone else had seniority over him here at least in time spent.

“We have an alien abduction in England,” James announced as he walked up. “Might be them trying to recoup their losses from the base, might be planned all along. Regardless, we’re going to put a stop to it.”

He motioned toward the skyranger. “Load up!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted enthusiastically and wasted no time in boarding the aircraft.

***

_Skyranger, En route to Abduction Zone_

Aluma laid at her feet, resting her eyes before the upcoming battle. The rest of them were silent and waiting for more information. If it was in England, it wouldn’t be a very long ride since she’d learned that the skyranger could fly at unreasonably fast speeds. But she wasn’t worried, from the brief flashes and words that had appeared in her mind, everyone possessed a confidence that she didn’t think had existed a few days ago.

“So, how does it feel being…psionic?” Augustine asked a few minutes into the flight, clearly unsure his words were the best he could have chosen.

“Not bad,” Galia shrugged. “It’s honestly not much now, but that will probably change soon.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Pavel commented. “You seem more comfortable with it than Iosif and Alexei. Neither of them really want to talk about it.”

“They’re a bit more skeptical,” Galia answered. “But they’re fine.”

“Not that they probably have much choice,” Anneli pointed out.

“True,” Galia admitted. “Though I don’t see much point in worrying. Patricia knows what she’s doing.”

“Yeah,” Pavel answered slowly, looking up. “She _certainly_ does.”

Galia frowned at his tone, but restrained herself from commenting. Now was not the time to discuss Patricia, especially in such a public setting. It suddenly occurred to her that her new abilities _might_ be an issue for some people. She supposed when looking at it from their perspective, a woman with the ability to read minds might actually be worth getting concerned about. Which was ridiculous, since she’d never do anything against them without reason, as Patricia had not so subtlety ordered.

But this thing was that they didn’t know that, or worse, had no way to actually prove that regardless of what assurances she gave. She’d never really had an issue with Patricia since she trusted her. But now she guessed she would have to follow Patricia’s example; actions outweighed words.

 _“This is the Commander to Sun Team,”_ the familiar voice coming through her helmet speakers. _“You’re being deployed to England. The city of Plymouth has just gone silent, and we suspect the aliens are responsible.”_

“Anything on what to expect?” James asked as he toyed with his alloy cannon.

 _“Some citizens might be fighting back,”_ the Commander answered. _“It appears whatever the aliens regularly used to subdue the citizens either wasn’t deployed or didn’t work because there was a massive influx of 999 calls just before it went silent.”_

“So there might still be people alive,” Galia said hopefully.

 _“Possibly,”_ the Commander didn’t exactly sound _hopeful. “Civilians stand no chance against the aliens, but you do. If they’re being forced to fight through the city, it might delay them enough to prevent all of them from dying.”_

“What of the emergency calls themselves?” James asked. “Did they describe anything that could be helpful?”

 _“No,”_ the Commander answered, keeping his tone seemingly neutral. Like he was puzzled and trying to hide it. _“All the calls we’ve listen to have been completely unrelated issues. Cuts, headaches, mysterious pain. Some were gunshots, but nothing was ever connected to the aliens.”_

Galia frowned. That _was_ odd. Though the sheer volume of 999 calls might have simply meant that the Commander and his team just hadn’t found the right calls. Not that it mattered; she _knew_ the aliens were behind this and they were going to stop them, whatever it took.

 _“Find out why Plymouth has gone dark,”_ the Commander repeated. _“Shoot all aliens on sight and secure the city. Good luck. Citadel Command, out.”_

The line clicked off.

“So what are the best aliens for a frontal attack?” Augustine asked. “Mutons and floaters seem a good bet.”

“I’d add cyberdisks, possibly chryssalids,” Galia added, shivering at the thought of the alien bugs.

“Let’s hope there aren’t chryssalids,” James said grimly. “Otherwise we’ll have to wipe the town out.”

“What about Mechtoids?” Anneli added. “Those would be useful.”

“Right, let’s just prepare for those,” James nodded. “A sizable number would probably be twenty or a few more to effectively clear the city out.”

“I guess it depends if they’re capturing or killing,” Charlotte pointed out.

“True,” James nodded. “Just killing would be quicker and require less units.”

 _“Well, you’re about to find out,”_ the voice of Fallen Sky interrupted. _“I’m dropping you off just outside the city center. No signs of a fight from what I can see. Prepare to deploy in one.”_

“Copy,” James confirmed as he stood. “Everyone up and prepare to deploy!”

Galia tapped Aluma and the dog was instantly on her feet and followed her to the end of the squad. Since deploying would require a bit more time than the others, she needed to go last so both of them would have a safe landing. The skyranger dipped until it was hovering over an unknown area. With a hiss the ramp opened displaying the short buildings of the town.

“Deploy!” James ordered and immediately grabbed one of the ropes that fell from the skyranger. Within seconds most of the squad was heading down. Galia grunted as she picked up a very heavy Aluma and positioned her as she’d been trained. With her free hand she hooked herself to the rope and jumped off the ramp.

Time to see what the aliens were doing here.

***

_Plymouth, England_

Galia hit the ground and deposited Aluma onto it in one practiced motion. Once she raised her weapon, she quickly got a look of her surroundings. It became immediately apparent to her that this was different. The previous abductions had always been ghost towns, areas still intact but devoid of all life within them.

Not here.

It looked like an epidemic had struck. Cars were strewn across the streets, crashed into buildings, other vehicles and…people. Some of the cars were on fire and spreading to the other buildings or bodies. But that damage paled in comparison to what else littered the streets.

Bodies. Tens of bodies, people just lying on the sidewalk. Others just curled up on the street. Galia could barely look at the group of school children on the ground across the street. She didn’t hold out hope that they were somehow alive. None of the bodies moved, even the ones without wounds on them.

“Commander, are you getting this?” James asked numbly as he swept the area with his raised alloy cannon.

_“I am.”_

“This isn’t normal,” Malcom muttered as he slowly took a few steps up, weapon raised. “They usually don’t just…kill everything.”

 _“I suspect this is probably retaliation for our attack,”_ the Commander noted grimly. _“There is nothing that can be done for them now. All we can do is avenge them.”_

“Copy that,” James said softly. “We’re moving in now.”

Together they moved down the street, stepping over the motionless corpses and trying not to disturb their silent rest. Disconcertion, anger and fear all flashed into her, and she couldn’t quite shake any other those emotions even if they weren’t hers. Even Aluma seemed unsettled by the carnage around her, keeping closer to her legs than normal.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Charlotte muttered, as she looked at one of the corpses. A man who was likely in his thirties, with dull blonde hair and face contorted in what must have been agony in his last moments. What was odd was that there were no markings or wounds or…anything that could have caused his death.

“Do you know what killed him?” Galia asked.

She could hear the hesitation in her voice. “He died in pain, and likely very quickly. There’s only a few plausible reasons I can think of or have seen. Heart attack or stroke are obvious ones, but…what are the chances it could happen _now_?” Charlotte stood and gestured around the streets of corpses. “Take a look around. He’s _not_ the only one who’s like that.”

“All of these people died in pain,” Pavel noted, kneeling beside the bodies of a woman and presumably her daughter. “Look at their faces. There isn’t a peaceful or even neutral expression on them.”

“Let’s keep moving,” James said quietly as he motioned them to move further into the town. “Whatever caused this is probably still here.”

“Are you sure?” Galia wondered, jogging up beside him. “Because from the looks of things, the aliens killed these people without firing a shot. Could this be some kind of virus?”

James paused, then turned to Charlotte. “I know this isn’t your field, per-se,” he began. “But would that be possible? A weaponized agent causing what we’ve seen?”

“Theoretically, yes,” she answered slowly. “There are dozens of agents that could cause this. But I’m not sure what the point would be, we already know these kill humans. Unless of course this was just to send a message?”

“Very likely,” Anneli growled, storming up to them. “And one directed at _us_. If they’d wanted it public they would have bombarded this from orbit.”

 _“A virus or biological agent might explain why none of the 999 calls mentioned the aliens,”_ the Commander noted, subdued. _“Keep going, but be wary. I doubt the aliens just killed these people and left.”_

“Let’s go,” James ordered and they moved further into the city.

Galia was grateful that her helmet filters removed the worst of the smells. Little _disturbed_ her, but that didn’t exactly mean she wanted to smell charred flesh and decaying bodies. But still…this was horrific, even to her. It wasn’t quite on the level of the alien base, but seeing a street filled with ordinary dead people was something any normal person would find hard to stomach.

They kept walking for a few minutes, passing concrete buildings and shops with dead people in the offices, breezeways and diners. Galia pursed her lips as she saw a fire brewing in a restaurant with dozens of dead customers in the seats. “Look at this,” Augustine called, as he knelt beside yet another corpse.

Unlike most of the others, this woman’s throat was slit. Blood covered her neck and had soaked into her shirt. A bloody knife was also in her hand. “She killed herself?” Galia wondered. It made sense and was almost certainly the cause…but she could help but feel like there was something missing.

“Looks that way,” Augustine agreed, standing back up. “Why though? And _how_? Aren’t strokes and heart attacks usually incapacitating?”

“Assuming that whatever did this triggered those,” Galia pointed out with a frown. “Maybe it just caused too much pain.”

With that somber thought, they kept going and that was when there was a noticeable change in the bodies. No longer were the majority unmarked and unscathed. Some had cuts, gunshot wounds or body parts removed.

“What changed?” Josue asked in awe as he looked down at a man who had apparently clawed his eyes out if his bloodied fingers were anything to go by. “Did they use a different drug here?”

Galia looked over at a twin pair of police officers. One who had jammed her head into a nearby spike and another who’d slit his wrists. This was looking less and less of a drug of some kind to her. What drug was so agonizing the majority of people were able to kill themselves after suffering it? But the one consistent part of all the bodies were that the faces were still the same; all in pain.

“I’m not sure what they did,” Charlotte answered slowly. “I don’t know what else could cause a mass suicide on this scale other than a hallucinogenic, and even then the chances of it affecting them _all_ the same way are _minuscule_ at best.”

“It seems to be worse the further we go in,” Malcom noted. “Let’s get this over with.”

They kept on walking, their attitudes far different now than the confident skyranger ride over. Galia found herself actually wondering what they could do it if the aliens tried a similar tactic on them. Without knowing what it was…could they really prepare?

“Ugh,” she stumbled as she felt _something_ tear into her leg. It _felt_ like a bullet, but she’d heard no shot and as she looked down, her armor was unbroken. But she _felt_ the pain her leg was sending her; she _felt_ the blood trickling down her calve.

There were similar sounds coming from the rest of them. “This can’t be right,” Augustine asked, shaking his head as he straightened up. “I’m fine.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pavel growled. “I’m pretty sure I was just shot!”

“Me too,” Galia added with a wince. The pain was dying, but it was still threatening to compromise her calm. “My leg. But it can’t be happening.”

“Keep going,” James muttered, attempting to keep a firm stance. “I have a feeling we’re close now.”

They pushed through their phantom pain and kept walking forward. Galia almost fell to the ground several times as spikes of pain stabbed into her legs. All of their breathing became more labored the closer they got, their pace slowing through the constant barrage of agony. After what seemed like ages they finally came to what had to be the city center.

It was a large circular area, paved with brick and a large fountain in the middle. Cars and bodies littered the area and the buildings surround the center were broken, ruined or were on fire. Directly in front of them at the end of the street was… _something_.

Galia squinted at the figure, trying to get a better look. It was tall, that much was clear, and even from here she could tell it towered over her. Some kind of reddish robe covered it’s entire body, minus the helmet it wore. The entire wardrobe had seen better days, since the robe itself was ripped, scored and frayed. The helmet wasn’t much better, the once regal design now marred by rust, gashes and scratches.

“Contact up ahead,” James growled. “Into cover and open fire!”

Galia gasped as a new wave of pain hit her chest, making it feel as if it was on fire. _Not real. Not real._ She dashed to a store corner and lined up her shot on the alien. Gauss bullets sped towards the immobile being, but if it was worried it didn’t show it. Pavel, Augustine and Charlotte were also firing at it and it just _stood_ there.

It’s robe twitched and jumped as the projectiles clearly hit it…but it didn’t seem to be affected. Galia paused, then zoomed in on it’s face and felt a wave of terror sweep over her. Several projectiles _would_ have hit the head of the alien. The only problem was that at least five were simply suspended before the helm, preventing further movement.

“It’s psionic!” Galia screamed as things started clicking rapidly for her. The reasons for the mass suicide, the dozens of bodies, _everything_ off about this could be explained by the application of psionics.

How could they have forgotten that?

“Correct.”

That one word almost made her scream as the sound grated against her very brain. It was the embodiment of a tortured soul, one that embodied the voice of the damned. A wailing, pitiful voice containing equal parts terror and pain. It was worse because she heard it through her ears and _in her mind_!

The others weren’t so quiet. Josue and Anneli audibly screamed and redoubled their fire. Aluma howled and fell to the ground. The sight of her longest companion in such pain was enough for her to dispel the stunning quality of that voice and release a sustained barrage on the alien.

“You have no need of those,” the alien stated, extending a spindly arm towards them. The faint whitish skin splotched with blue was oddly hypnotizing and distracted her until her weapon was yanked from her hands. Anneli’s, Josue’s and Charlotte’s were also pulled and rested just in front of the raised five-fingered hand.

They fell to the ground a second later and the alien began walking towards them. Galia pulled out her pistol and began firing. A new wave of agony in her neck caused her to scream, but she kept at it. “I’m going in!” James yelled, clasping his alloy cannon.

Galia knew it might be a suicide mission, but if he could get an alloy cannon blast at the alien, it _might_ be enough to kill it. He leapt out of his cover and charged towards the towering creature. About halfway, he suddenly collapsed to the ground, writing on the ground as the alien simply looked at him.

“Evac!” Malcom stuttered as he fell to one knee, suffering his own pain. “We need emergency evac _now_ dammit! _Now!”_

“No one is coming,” the alien stated in his awful wail. “And you will not leave alive.”

He thrust the drawn arm towards the right side and James was thrown and pinned against a nearby wall, screaming in pain. The alien’s hand contorted into a claw as purple energy writhed around it. Purple energy also began encircling James and she watched in horror as the energy ravaged his body in armor, cutting it into rough chunks which fell to the ground.

The pain she was feeling intensified as the alien got closer and closer. It was all she could do not to turn the pistol on herself just to end it. Only Pavel, Augustine and her were still trying to kill the thing. The rest were either writing on the ground, or backing up in terror.

“You wield toys,” the alien said as he motioned towards a fleeing Josue who screamed as he was pulled into the alien’s grasp by the throat. “As can be expected when pitting children against each other.”

The arm holding Josue off the ground flared and he was consumed by purple shears that ripped him apart. The alien dropped the shredded body and withdrew the hand back into it’s robe. It looked at her and she felt an odd calm fall around her; the pain was still there, but it…wasn’t important.

She didn’t _really_ need to shoot at it, did she?

 _“You have impressed me, Commander,”_ the voice of Fallen Sky came over her helmet. But it wasn’t him, it _couldn’t_ be. _“XCOM has accomplished what hundreds have failed before.”_

 _This isn’t right._ She raged on the inside, fighting to displace the irrational calm that had descended upon her. Pavel and Augustine had also stopped firing, their weapons held limply at their sides. _Fight it!_

“But your insurrection is at an end,” Pavel said in a dull voice. “We will not tolerate more rebellion.”

“You are a strong species,” Augustine said in the same voice. “But none are immune to pain, and the weak ones will be the first to die.” Galia watched with horror as he lowered his weapon towards a writhing Anneli. Several shots towards her head and she stopped moving.

“Everyone has a point where they can tolerate death no longer,” Pavel said, turning his weapon down on Malcom who was futilely trying to raise a pistol. “How many of your species will you sacrifice in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable?” Two shots blasted Malcom’s head and he fell to the ground, blood and brains leaking onto the pavement.

 _Walk forward_.

She tried fighting it, but the will of the alien overpowered her and she shuffled towards Charlotte who was trying to prop herself up on a car as whatever pain she was suffering from debilitated her from moving. “Galia!” She gasped. “Fight it!”

“They cannot fight it, human,” Galia said, the words appearing in her mind. “They lack the will. They lack the ability. They cannot defy us any more than you can deny the sun rising.” Charlotte would have probably said something else, but two gauss bullets through her head were enough to silence her.

 _“You are deluded to think you can overcome us,”_ Fallen Sky said. _“Your species has barely six thousand years of recorded history. We have existed for millennia. We have seen and done things you would not comprehend. Fighting us is not only foolish, it is suicide.”_

Galia heard the roar of a skyranger overhead and watched in surprising detachment and it plunged into a nearby building with a massive explosion. As burning metal and gas rained down around them, Galia turned back around. _Head back_.

With dawning horror she realized what she was going to be doing. _No!_ She screamed internally, her body ignoring her and taking one shuffling step at a time.

 _Quiet. It will be over soon_.

_No!_

_You have no choice_. _Your will is pointless._

Galia screamed as a new wave of pain disrupted her mental fight and her hand lowered her pistol towards Aluma who was still writhing on the ground. Tears streaming down her face, she aimed the weapon on her head. Aluma must have sensed she was close, and raised her head, eyes full of pain as she watched her master and companion who she’d protected and fought with for years, pointing the gun in her face.

But Aluma didn’t even try to run. She trusted her. Galia had never hurt her, and never would.

_Bang!_

Had she been even remotely in control, Galia would have broke down sobbing right then. But she was no longer in control and didn’t fight the alien any longer. _Please_ , she begged as she stumbled towards the towering alien. _Just kill me._

_Your wish will be granted._

She smiled at that. A delirious smile, but one she couldn’t remove, so far gone was her mind already from pain and grief.

_Thank you._

She took off her helmet and let it drop to the charred concrete and raised the pistol to her head, the metal feeling oddly cool against her skin. Augustine and Pavel had done the same, looking serene as the barrels were pressed to their heads. “Understand that you will dictate how many lives are lost from this point on, Commander,” Augustine said. “Your opportunity to wage rebellion without consequence has passed.”

“The games are over,” Pavel continued. “You wanted a war. It starts today.”

With that, Pavel and Augustine fired their pistols and their bodies fell to the ground with a loud thud. She longed to join them, all she needed was a command.

_Do it._

She smiled, and pulled the trigger.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Enduring Tomb

_Personnel:_

 

Sun 1 ( _Squad Overseer_ ): Specialist James Nolan

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Sun 2: Specialist Galia Loeb

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Sun 2.5: “Aluma”

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Sun 3:  Specialist Anneli Reinhard

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

Sun 4: Specialist Augustine Ingen

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

Sun 5: Specialist Josue Rico

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

Sun 6: Specialist Malcom Munn

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

Sun 7: Specialist Pavel Maxim

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

Sun 8: Specialist Charlotte Ronja

                **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot: Tristen Ward – Call sign: “Fallen Sky” (KIA)

 

Artifacts Recovered:

None: Mission Failed


	34. Council Mission: France II

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

All of them stood in silence after the last armor cam turned to static.

“It seems like Nartha wasn’t exaggerating about the extent of the Ethereals powers,” Van Doorn said quietly. “That couldn’t have been anything else.”

“No.” The Commander shook his head. “It couldn’t have. And now we’ve lost an entire squad and skyranger.”

“Even once our injured soldiers recover,” Bradford added. “We’re now in a precarious position with soldier numbers. We’re barely over twenty as it is.”

“Unsustainable,” the Commander agreed. “Put together a list; make sure no country is excluded.”

“I think we have a bigger problem,” Van Doorn added slowly, still looking at the static screens. “Numbers are probably not going to beat this thing. I’m not sure it would have changed if there’s been twelve soldiers instead of eight.”

The Commander pursed his lips. Van Doorn had an excellent point, one that had been driven home by that Ethereal and the speech he’d given to him. The good news, if it could be called that, was that this was _probably_ the extent of alien commitment for now. So there probably wouldn’t be a planet-sized invasion until either this Ethereal got bored or they killed him.

But after watching that Ethereal take out eight of the world’s best soldiers, the Commander wasn’t entirely certain they _needed_ an army. Which meant they now had to switch focus to defeating powerful psions, because that was likely going to be the deciding factor in how long they could last. They could have all the guns, tech and gadgets to defeat the mutons, Vitakara and sectoids, but it would all be pointless if the soldier wielding them lost his mind simply because a Hive Commander or Ethereal willed it.

“What’s our response to this, Commander?” Bradford asked, looking at him. “Because as it stands now, I’m not sure we can take that thing out with what we have.”

“No, we probably could,” the Commander disagreed with a shake of his head. “Though we’d likely expend everything we have in the process. Not good enough. Unfortunately we can’t really respond with force, since the aliens could be anywhere. But now we need to focus all our efforts on defense and subjugation of psionic wielders.”

“Should I convey specific instructions to Vahlen and Shen?” Bradford asked, picking up a tablet.

“I’ll do that myself,” the Commander said. “But save the footage we have and give me a copy. In the meantime we need to improve the soldiers we have and bring in new ones. Bradford, give me our current list for genetic modification approval.”

He nodded. “Will do, Commander.”

The Commander turned his attention to Van Doorn. “Right now we need to finish establishing our alliances should this Ethereal strike again. I want this war between the Koreans ended; how soon could you set up establishing peace talks?”

“I’ll start today,” Van Doorn promised. “Though it may be better if you’re present.”

“Provided nothing else comes up, I can be,” the Commander promised. “And Bradford? Send Patricia up to me. It’s time she get brought up to speed on all our work. She’ll be instrumental in killing this Ethereal, I’m sure of it.”

“She beat the Hive Commander,” Van Doorn said thoughtfully. “I hope it will be enough.”

“Honestly, probably not,” the Commander stated bluntly. “Which is why she needs to get stronger. If she knows the stakes, she’ll do what’s required. In the meantime I’ll draw up everything we have on the Ethereals and distribute it to the soldiers.”

“And what will that consist of?” Van Doorn asked slowly.

The Commander pursed his lips. “Immediate retreat unless specified otherwise.”

“That’s probably best,” Bradford agreed. “Even if it’s only a temporary strategy.”

“Then let’s get to work,” the Commander ordered, pushing himself off the holotable. “This Ethereal could strike anytime, and until we know a way to beat him, more people are going to die.”

He didn’t need to even say the words to convey just how precarious their situation suddenly was. Both men knew that the consequences of failure would be casualties in the hundreds of thousands, and no one needed better motivation than that.

For the most part.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

Patricia felt chills run through her as she watched the Ethereal systematically slaughter the doomed soldiers, all while delivering threats to the Commander. It _had_ to be an Ethereal, the description matched what Nartha had told them, and it was obviously far more powerful than the Hive Commander, which to her was a terrifying thought.

“Impressions?” The Commander asked grimly as he shut the screen off once it turned to static. “You have an idea of how his powers work?”

“I…” Patricia paused. “There was direct mind control, clearly, but he somehow managed to control three soldiers, at least, as well as Fallen Sky at the same time. I have to concentrate for just _one_.”

“And unless I’ve been mistaken, this is the first time we’ve seen a demonstration of telekinesis,” the Commander added thoughtfully, resting on the edge of his desk. “I suppose that shouldn’t be too surprising. Have you attempted anything similar?”

“No,” Patricia shook her head. “But mostly because I wasn’t sure it was possible. But it might be simply because I’m not…oriented towards that application.”

The Commander waved his hand in a circle. “Explain.”

“It’s something I’ve been observing in the awakened psions,” Patricia explained, recalling the important details of her theory. “Some of them are either reacting differently or demonstrating abilities I haven’t been able to do. My working theory is that each individual psion is more sensitive to certain aspects of psionics than others.”

“That makes sense,” the Commander nodded slowly. “Then the question would be if that in turn excludes the user from other aspects where they aren’t as sensitive.”

“I don’t know,” Patricia shrugged. “We need more psions to even begin validating this theory. But my point with that was that just because we haven’t observed something doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Psionics is clearly… _versatile.”_

She felt a faint spark of amusement burst through the Commander. “An understatement, Psion Trask. I’m more concerned with the range of his mind control. Taking control of Fallen Sky should not have happened. Could you do that?”

“At the range he was?” Patricia asked, crossing her arms and looking down as she thought. “I…don’t know. In a dense population, it would have been nigh impossible. But with only a limited number, I’d likely be able to sense it. Maybe. Distance isn’t really a factor. If I can sense a mind, I can access it.”

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “So theoretically, if you could…pinpoint…a specific mind, you could access it from anywhere? Regardless of location?”

Something changed in him. It was subtle, but he seemed interested in the answer, more so than he should be. “Again, in theory…yes. But having an actual visual is far easier. Why?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered. “Now…you heard the armor cams. Everyone in the squad was in pain, which shouldn’t have been possible. They were clearly fine, so I’m assuming it was the Ethereal debilitating them psionically.”

“And since he mind controlled them at the same time, he must have applied it as a…passive, for lack of a better word,” Patricia noted, eyes widening as she realized how powerful and skilled the Ethereal was to be able to perform _both_ simultaneously. “Planting pain isn’t _difficult_ , per-se, but it takes effort to continue it as he did.”

“I suppose the Ethereals wouldn’t send a pushover,” the Commander commented. “If Nartha is anything to go by, he’s probably centuries old. Plenty of time to hone psionic powers.”

“And I’ve only had them a few months,” Patricia muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to fight that?”

“By getting better,” the Commander stated bluntly. “As of this moment, you’re the only one who could remotely put up a fight against this alien. Everything can be killed, it’s just a matter of finding weaknesses and exploiting every advantage we have. In which case here: you.”

She felt a rush of pride. Misplaced at it may be, she appreciated the sentiment. Especially since the Commander seemed to genuinely believe it. It was somewhat odd that she didn’t sense any dishonestly within him. Even this Ethereal didn’t seem to faze him overmuch. Sure, he was _concerned_ , but _afraid_ or _worried_? No. Nothing.

Maybe it was because he didn’t know the intricacies of what those powers entailed and she did, but his calm confidence that it _could_ be done was reassuring to her sometimes over-imaginative mind. “I appreciate it, Commander.”

He appraised her with his gold-rimmed eyes. “You do, though it doesn’t seem that you share the same sentiment.”

“Not entirely, Commander.”

“You drove a Hive Commander insane,” the Commander reminded her. “I can’t speak to the difficulty of that, but that isn’t something to dismiss. You can become strong enough, it’s just a matter of devoting yourself.”

“I’ll do my best, Commander,” she promised.

“Now, there was another reason I brought you up now,” the Commander continued, picking up a tablet. “You need to get caught up on…well, the state of things, for lack of a better term.”

He handed the tablet to her. “The detailed documents are there, if you’re interested. But they mostly concern current politics, alliances, research and XCOM operations.”

She took the tablet and resisted the urge to begin reading it. “Alright. I guess just condense the important stuff for now.”

He motioned her to the screen which he turned on to display a map of the world. “XCOM has begun establishing independent alliances with various countries around the world,” he explained. “Those are highlighted, those in orange are ones that we’re looking into. Council Nations are specifically marked and the rest have either withdrawn or are not a part of the Council.”

She immediately realized some odd points. “China withdrew? And we’re allied with _Taiwan_?”

“Ah, yes,” the Commander answered, pursing his lips. “I suppose I should say that XCOM-Council relations are not… _good_. There is a very clear division in the Council, mostly centered around me.”

“You?” Patricia frowned. “Why? You’re a large reason why we’ve done this well.”

He sighed. “It’s slightly more complicated. But they aren’t exactly fans of how I work, mostly because I don’t, well, ‘respect their authority’ as they’d put it. I perform operations how I see fit, and only involve the Council when it’s really needed. They don’t like that.”

Yes, she could see how that might put off some people. “But this is literally our best chance against the aliens,” she pointed out. “That’s an extremely petty reason to withdraw. Do they _know_ what the aliens are doing to us?”

“Oh, they know,” the Commander raised a hand. “The point is that I do not want to rely on the Council for funding and am seeking other sources. China is a loss that’s mostly been covered thanks to previous efforts, but thanks to it, we’ve lost what surplus we’ve had.”

“So your response is to make China angry?” Patricia asked, looking at the map. “Is that a good idea?”

“There are consequences for putting politics ahead of humanity,” the Commander stated coldly, clasping his hands behind his back as he also looked at the map. “If China wishes to work alone, I will debilitate them as much as possible. Taiwan, North Korea, Mongolia and ASEAN will send a clear message to China.”

She felt the cold anger underneath his words, controlled, contained, but very much there. The Commander _did_ seem personally insulted that China would pull a stunt like this. She nodded along until she registered a country the Commander had said. “Wait. _North Korea?”_

“Yes,” he answered nonchalantly, a small smile on his face. “Believe it or not, North Korea contacted us about a potential alliance.”

Patricia blinked. “And you’re _considering_ it?”

“Yes,” the Commander answered firmly. “I’ve spoken with the Supreme Leader. We can work with him. They already have access to alien tech, and have the industrial and manufacturing ability to be extremely useful. Furthermore, if all goes well, we will hopefully negotiate peace between the two Koreas.”

She was genuinely surprised at that. It took a certain degree of pragmatism to even _consider_ allying with _North Korea_ of all things, and most people didn’t have it. She wondered how that conversation had gone when the Commander had proposed it. “I’ll accept your judgment here, Commander.”

“I haven’t overlooked their past,” the Commander added. “Should we form an alliance, North Korea will make concessions. In his own way, I do believe that the Supreme Leader really does want what is best for his country. He’s just an authoritarian.”

Patricia snorted. “ _Just_ an authoritarian. But I suppose we can’t really be picky right now.”

“Another good point,” the Commander chuckled. “While we’re on this topic, we’ve also been funneling alien tech through proxy countries into Russia.”

“ _Really?”_ Now that she _wasn’t_ really surprised at. Russia liked their military and would probably do quite a few things to gain an edge over America and China. “I’m somehow not surprised at that.”

“Fine by me,” the Commander chuckled. “But I thought you should hear it from me. Now, there is something you should be aware of concerning XCOM’s Research and Development.”

She waited. “What?”

“It mostly relates to developing experimental genetic modification,” the Commander said, switching the screens to show glass holding cells in a white room. It actually looked very familiar. “In short, we’re using human test subjects.”

“Wait…” Patricia sucked in her breath. “This was the footage we _recovered_ from the EXALT base! You mean…?”

“Propaganda,” the Commander answered with a quick nod. “Using our own footage. EXALT may very well be conducting experiments like this, but that doesn’t matter. All the public needs to see is this footage and they’ll be convinced. It’s not like EXALT can publicly refute it. Yes, we’ve performed what is considered horrific experiments on humans, but they were necessary.”

“Where are you even getting them?” She demanded incredulously, turning directly to the Commander.

“Prisoners on Death Row, mostly from the United States,” he answered neutrally. “I wouldn’t use civilians on this. Not when there are other options. The test subjects you see are dead men and women, we’re ensuring that their death goes to good use.”

The utter lack of any empathy…or emotion of any kind…was highly unsettling. Death Row prisoners _were_ better than…well, almost anything. But still, they _were_ people. People who felt pain, terror and despair. But from how the Commander spoke and how he felt…he didn’t seem to consider them as such.

“Is this going to be a problem?” The Commander asked, calm as ever.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I don’t like it. Not at all. But you’re not sadistic or doing it out of anything other than necessity. Which I suppose is better than the alternatives. But I suppose that it worked, judging by Carmelita and…you.”

“Vahlen is good at what she does,” the Commander affirmed. “I don’t waste human life unnecessarily, Patricia. I wouldn’t authorize it if it didn’t work. But I see no point getting emotional over those… _people_ , if they could be called that. Their lives have ensured that much better people live; ensured that the people who deserve to be saved _are_. We need to do whatever it takes to ensure humanities survival, and in the scope of that, considerations of people worth less than nothing are not important.”

When he put it like that…she shook her head to clear it and looked back to the screen. He truly believed that he was completely justified and right on this. Completely. There wasn’t even a whisper of doubt. Sure, it seemed he _knew_ that people would have problems and even _why_ , but it seemed that he actually didn’t seem to think they were in the right.

But…it did make sense to her. In the whole scope of things, why did the lives of a few murderers matter? In the practical world they lived in now, the answer was very clear: They didn’t. So why should she devote any more time to them than necessary? She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to feel outraged about this. After she’d heard who the test subjects were, she’d only been able to muster up an almost obligatory anger.

And why?

Because it was wrong?

So society said, anyway. No, she wondered if she was overly defensive because what she felt in the Commander and heard from him lined up scarily with her own revelations. The Commander had put voice to her darker feelings, and it was…odd to hear them out loud. By figures of influence arguing them seriously.

The Commander _had_ originally been part of _the_ Commander’s group, and it seemed some of his brutal practicality had rubbed off on him as well. If _he_ was willing to acknowledge this to her, maybe her feelings weren’t an isolated event. She looked into the Commander’s eyes. “I agree.”

There was a brief flicker of surprise in him, and the only visual of that she saw was a raised eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yes,” she answered. “It was something I realized during my…interrogation of the Hive Commander. Something I’d been wondering for awhile now. I was hurting it, intentionally making it suffer just to see if I could, to see just what I was capable of,” she paused, trying to voice her thoughts coherently. “And I didn’t feel any guilt at all. None. All I felt was that it was deserved. _Justified_.”

She shrugged. “It’s been something I’ve thought about ever since. I guess it boils down to that there are some people that don’t deserve consideration, mercy or life.” She gestured towards the screen. “Those people? They fall under that category. So yes, I agree.”

He gave one nod. “It’s good you do. I did wonder how you’d react.”

“As long as you keep it to those that deserve it, I have no issue with it,” Patricia stated.

“That I can do,” the Commander said, sounding more pleased then before. “The last thing of note is that my Internal Council has access to an additional set of contingencies. Look over them and ask questions if you have them.”

“I’ll do that,” she promised.

“Keep working with the awakened psions,” the Commander ordered. “And help Vahlen if she asks. We all have a lot of work to do.”

“That we do, Commander,” she agreed, forming her hand into a fist and giving him a salute. “I’ll get to it. Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the Commander answered. “Good luck with them.”

“Appreciated,” Patricia sighed. “I’ll need it.”

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“Are you open to using the Citadel for hosting the peace talks?” Van Doorn asked, handing him a tablet. “Because neither will meet in the other’s country, and we don’t exactly have a lot of options for neutral ground.”

“Provided they’re fine with restricted information and full searches,” the Commander answered. “No personal guards either. Iseul would probably take it as a chance to demonstrate his improved soldiers, and I’d rather we avoid that.”

“They both seemed willing when I brought it up,” Van Doorn said. “I’ll convey that to them. In that case, I think it can be arranged in the next few days.”

“Excellent,” the Commander said, satisfied. “President Rena has set the official announcement of our alliance with Taiwan to tomorrow. All goes well, we’ll begin negotiations with Mongolia and ASEAN within the next few weeks.”

Van Doorn gave a small smile as he heard that. “Let’s hope things go that smoothly.”

“I somehow doubt it,” the Commander added with a sigh. “China and EXALT will probably begin work to disrupt us, at least publically. But I hope the same.”

 _“Commander?”_ Bradford’s voice came from his earpiece. _“I’m receiving an incoming call from the Council.”_

“Really,” the Commander stated, exchanging a look with Van Doorn. “Put them through.”

_“Yes, Commander.”_

“What is it?” Van Doorn asked with a frown.

The Commander walked to face the screen at the back of his office. “The Council. It seems like they want to talk.”

“About what, I wonder,” Van Doorn commented, walking up beside him. “I could see it once word of the peace talks came out or Taiwan announced our alliance. But now?”

“They don’t know about the Ethereal yet,” the Commander added. “So they might just be calling to offer congratulations on our assault of the alien base.”

“Maybe,” Van Doorn conceded. “But the Council typically doesn’t call to simply offer congratulations.”

The screen flashed and immediately displayed the familiar figure cloaked in blue shadow. _“Commander,”_ he began with an inclination of his head. _“The Council would first like to offer…congratulations…for your recent victory over the aliens. What you discovered has been…illuminating.”_

“Appreciated, Speaker,” the Commander answered cordially. “We know what the aliens plan to do to us. Hopefully this can inspire the… _reluctant…_ councilors to consider what is most important to humanity.”

 _“It is certainly causing some to…reevaluate,”_ the Speaker revealed. Really. That was interesting. Well, if so, good. If they would drop the pointless feud with him and realize that the aliens were the biggest threat, he’d happily work with them. It would have been useful from the beginning, but better late than never.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” he told the Speaker. “Preventing acts like those are what we should be focusing on. Not politics or the past.”

 _“That particular topic, while needed, isn’t why you have been contacted,”_ the Speaker redirected. _“There has been a disturbance near the French-German border. We are currently unsure as to the nature of it, but there are clear alien signatures, as well as those associated with EXALT.”_

The Commander frowned. “They are still allied, as far as we know. What kind of disturbance?”

 _“Again, difficult to pinpoint,”_ the Speaker emphasized. _“But we suspect that one or both are involved in a conflict of some kind.”_

Van Doorn and him exchanged a look. Well, _that_ was interesting. If EXALT and the aliens were fighting…hmm, maybe Director Vyandar wasn’t as idiotic as she’d insinuated. “Send me the location,” the Commander said. “We’ll send a team immediately.”

 _“Thank you, Commander,”_ the Speaker said, inclining his head again. _“Good luck. We will be watching.”_

The screen cut out and the Commander immediately turned to his desk. “Have Bradford order a skyranger to prepare,” he ordered. “I’ll put together a team.”

“It seems awfully soon for EXALT to pull something like this,” Van Doorn noted as he picked up his tablet. “It’s unlike their methodic nature, even if it benefits us.”

“Perhaps the aliens got tired of their pretend alliance,” the Commander shrugged. “But whatever the case may be, I won’t complain.”

“True enough,” Van Doorn agreed with a nod. “I imagine the soldiers will be ready to exact vengeance on the aliens.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” the Commander agreed, as he looked over the list of soldiers. “Let’s make it happen.”

***

_Location Unknown_

How the hell could any of this exist?

That was what Latrell had been trying to figure out ever since he’d woken up, bound in what he could only assume was an armored truck and headed…somewhere. EXALT. It had to be them, and they’d somehow managed to capture them despite all the precautions he’d taken. Deep down, a part of him hadn’t _quite_ believed it when Annette had described a secret organization based in Antarctica that manipulated the world.

He’d unconsciously begun putting together what he had considered a more reasonable explanation, which was probably a well-organized crime ring or a black-ops government site. A government-run operation would actually explain how they had people within the government as well as their apparent funding and skill.

What had thrown a wrench in that theory was that Annette could read minds, which was something he still was wrapping his head around. But as he looked around the armored car, with the six men and women all wearing white bandannas and plate armor, he was becoming more and more convinced Annette was completely right.

At the moment, he was still pretending to be dazed, thinking maybe they’d drop their guard if they thought he didn’t pose a threat. Well, whoever they were, he knew exactly what was going to happen next. The only reason he was being kept alive was to keep Annette in line. They couldn’t control her, so they needed insurance; namely him.

He wasn’t _afraid_ of dying; no, what made him concerned was that they would torture him to get her to cooperate. He wasn’t trained to resist that, and he supposed it didn’t matter at all. They weren’t going to ask him questions, they would just use his pain to get her to cooperate. And she would, he knew that. No matter what he said she would do what they wanted, she didn’t abandon people she cared about when she had options.

“So she tried attacking you?” One of the soldiers, a man, asked.

“’Tried’ being the key word,” another man, with a distinctly British accent answered smugly. “The two snipers did the trick; completely disoriented her. She really does burst into purple energy though, kinda unsettling, I’ll admit.”

Latrell could agree. Seeing Annette wrap her arm in that energy while the skin melted and warped around it was something he wouldn’t forget, nor wanted to. He wondered how she could endure it, though by the sounds of things, it’d seem that she hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter.

“So what can she actually do?” Another asked, a woman this time. “Control people and shoot purple energy?”

“That we know of,” the British man confirmed. “But we don’t know exactly what. Why do you think she’s still sedated?”

“True,” the first voice agreed. “Though I’m more worried we’re going to kill her with an overdose at this point. That’s enough sedatives for a tiger.”

“Better safe than sorry,” the British man said, sounding like he was shrugging. “Don’t know about you, but I’d like to keep my mind.”

Sedatives. Right. And it sounded like a lot of them. He supposed the question was if weakening them would be enough to wake her up. Her body had probably been changed, so it might actually make more to keep her down. If he could just pull a wire or tube…

The truck slammed to a stop, and he took the moment to shake himself awake and look around blearily. The back of the truck back was as he’d suspected. An open middle with opposing benches, three soldiers per side. He was at the back of the truck, wrists and ankles bound and beside him a half-meter or so away was a sedated Annette.

She at least looked like she was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling while the machine beside her beeped at regular intervals as it injected the drugs into her wrists. All he needed to do was pull out one of them and it _might_ weaken it enough to wake her up. The only problem was that there was no way he could do that without being noticed.

At least one of them was looking at him at all times, so he couldn’t scoot closer without someone noticing. So for now he just stayed in place. “Will someone go see what the holdup is?” A brown-haired woman he’d heard earlier asked in exasperation.

One of the black-haired men sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

For a brief moment, no one was looking at him and he scooted a few inches closer to her. By the time someone looked back, he was completely relaxed as if nothing had happened. “You’re awfully quiet,” the British man said, eyeing him warily. “Nothing to say?”

“I’d ask you to let us go,” Latrell answered sarcastically. “But it’d probably be a waste of breath. I know how you kind of people operate.”

“Blame your girlfriend for dragging you into this,” he replied. “Our orders were to take anyone with her into custody. That includes you, this time.”

“Yes, I should _definitely_ blame the woman who ran away after being experimented on,” Latrell snarled. “Flawless logic there. Truly.”

“Cut the snark,” the woman growled. “She’s dangerous. She isn’t the same woman you knew.”

“Who you kidnapped in the first place!” Latrell responded.

“You can’t understand,” she sighed. “It’s impossible.”

Latrell didn’t even bother to respond to that. What really _could_ they say that would explain any of this? How could they _possibly_ justify it? He was thinking up a suitable retort when the ground shook and the unmistakable sound of an explosion reached his ears. He smiled. “Sounds like you have company.”

Three of the soldiers stood. “You two stay here,” the British man ordered as he opened the door and jumped out with two others flanking him. Latrell knew this would be his one opportunity and quickly slid across near Annette and tried maneuvering his bound hands to try and find one of the tubes. His fingers grasped one and he gave a sharp pull.

Realizing his time was up, he quickly slid back to his first position as the two remaining soldiers knelt in the middle of the truck, their weapons trained on the door as more explosions and the sounds of weapons fire entered the truck. He glanced over at Annette, still sleeping peacefully and hoped that she’d wake up sooner than later.

He’d prefer not to not die in this tomb.

***

_Skyranger, En Route to Alien Activity_

Patricia was praying this would be a smooth engagement. She sincerely hoped that the Ethereal wasn’t behind this activity, and was skeptical she’d be able to do much if it was. Even without that potential issue, another was that the majority of her squad were newer recruits. She’d worked several times now with Jamali and Lesedi, but this would be the first time she’d worked with the rest.

They all seemed stable though, if eager to exact vengeance for the recent deaths, both from the base and Ethereal. She felt grim determination and resolve from each of them, all ready and willing for her orders.

“So what do we do if that thing shows up again?” Renato asked. The Brazilian had been quiet for the most part and spoke with a clear accent, but otherwise seemed perfectly capable.

“Retreat,” Patricia answered immediately. “We need to have a plan to kill it. Right now we’d have no chance.”

“Couldn’t you block it’s attempts?” Garen asked, one of the two Armenians on the squad.

“I’m sure it’s possible,” Patricia answered with a shrug. “But I’m not sure I’m strong enough, and I’d prefer not to test that on the battlefield.”

“A wise choice,” Veronika stated with a nod. “Study our enemy, then slit it’s throat and kick it back down to hell.” She brought a finger over her throat for emphasis, sounding awfully proud of herself. Patricia bit her lip as she tried not to chuckle. Veronika was almost a walking Russian woman stereotype and she found it kind of funny.

The woman was at least as tall as her, and probably much stronger. She spoke with a heavy accent and seemed to sincerely enjoy the prospect of killing aliens, or anything else for that matter. Still, she _seemed_ like a nice woman, provided you didn’t make her angry, which was a distinct possibility. She held _very_ strong opinions on certain topics.

Somehow, Patricia wasn’t surprised that the alloy cannon was a favorite of the volatile woman.

 _“Heads up, Grizzly Team,”_ the Commander interjected. _“You’re getting close to the area provided by the Council. Initial reports are pointed to a possible EXALT-alien conflict.”_

“Huh,” Lesedi commented lightly. “Should really get involved if that’s the case?”

 _“It’s tempting,”_ the Commander acknowledged with some amusement. _“But no. We can’t have either group free to do as they please. It appears that the area of the conflict is near a massive dam. Big Sky will observe the situation and drop you behind the alien forces, as they will be the biggest threat.”_

“Sounds like a plan,” Patricia acknowledged. “Should we attempt capture of surviving EXALT personnel?”

_“Only once the fighting is done.”_

“Copy that.”

 _“Good luck,”_ the Commander finished. _“Citadel Commander, out.”_

They flew in silence for a few minutes until Big Sky spoke. _“I’ve got a visual,”_ he began, then whistled. _“Wow. They’re really going to war. EXALT has a small army fighting at one end of the dam. The aliens have set down two UFOs on the other side cutting them off.”_

“Who’s winning?” Jamali asked curiously, leaning forward in his seat.

 _“Hard to tell,”_ Big Sky answered. _“But EXALT seem to be holding their own. The aliens are sending Mechtoids over now, so we’ll see how long that lasts.”_

Ralph Tritagor checked the safety of his rifle. The Marine Raider enjoyed calibrating his weapons on his own, claiming they always worked better for him that way. Patricia didn’t particularly care as long as he followed orders. “I think they’re in for a surprise,” he said, his voice a higher pitch than she would have expected. “If they’re sending Mechtoids, that means they still likely have outsiders in reserve.”

“Good point,” Patricia agreed, nodding approvingly towards him. “We’ll clear out the UFOs on the end first, then move forward.”

 _“I’ll set you down on top of one,”_ Big Sky told her. _“The dam also has watchtowers of sorts throughout the road. Lesedi might like that.”_

Patricia imagined the South African woman grinning at that. “Oh yes, I would.”

 _“Then get ready to deploy,”_ Big Sky stated as they immediately dipped. _“We’re coming in hot!”_

“Get ready!” Patricia ordered as the skyranger lights turned a hard red. She could sense alien and human minds below her and the contorting emotions accompanying them. She stood and headed towards the ramp, readying her autorifle for the assault. She could hear laser fire and explosions the lower they got.

The skyranger gently came to a rest, and the ramp opened up revealing a road under siege with explosions, laser fire and screams. A highway of hell, if she could describe it poetically. Ropes fell down, giving her the opportunity to give the order. “Deploy!” She ordered and charged out and down into the warzone.

***

_French-German Border_

The unnatural pulsing of the alien UFO began the instant her boots hit the shimmering metal, immediately boring into her mind. She was fairly certain she was more sensitive to it since she was a psionic. Everyone else hit the top of the UFO a few seconds later, their weapons raised and Patricia took a quick moment to observe the situation.

Chaos was the optimal description. The highway was littered with crashed cars, trucks and semis, all strewn haphazardly across the road. A good portion were either on fire or almost scorched beyond all recognition. There were no civilians alive she could see, either they’d somehow escaped or were corpses.

The aliens hadn’t skimped on deploying their most dangerous units either. She counted the skies filled with at least half a dozen floaters, two cyberdisks accompanied by twice that number of drones. On the ground were clearly a large number of Mutons and at the minimum of three mechtoids. Although one mechtoid was much…different than the others. It was a least a quarter taller, appears more armored and seemed to have some sort of missile system attached to its shoulder.

Wonderful.

She quickly sensed the inside of the UFO and smiled. Sectoids. Pilots most likely. Well, unfortunately for them she knew every possible weakness they had. She’d been inside the Mind of a Hive Commander, a few mindless drones were nothing.

“We ready?” Veronika asked tensely as a rocket slammed into one of the cyberdisks, which began leaking yellow fluid.

“Almost,” Patricia muttered distractedly. “There are twelve sectoids, six per UFO. I can deal with them, but there may be outsiders.”

“We’re ready,” Ralph assured her as he knelt by the edge.

She nodded and clenched her hand into a fist as she entered the minds of the first group. Now what would be the best way to deal with them? She could debilitate them with pain, or force them to commit suicide…but why do that when she could order them to do whatever she wanted.

 _Go to the mechtoids,_ she ordered, imitating the voice, image and pattern of the Hive Commander, along with an image of the mechtoid. _And kill them. Afterwards kill yourselves._

Simple and straightforward and she knew that her orders would enter the deepest corners of their minds. She repeated the same procedure with the second group and returned to the real world. “The sectoids are going to be coming out,” she stated, walking up to the edge. “Don’t kill them. They should help take out the mechtoids.”

Sure enough a few seconds later a dozen sectoids scampered out of the UFOs and towards the battle. Jamali shook his head in disbelief. “Wow.”

“Drop down now!” Patricia ordered as she lowered herself onto the cracked concrete and took a position by the first UFO entrance. The rest of them followed suit within seconds, Veronika taking the opposite position.

Green plasma fire spat out and Patricia gritted her teeth and risked peeking inside the UFO and wasn’t surprised to see two outsiders in cover behind the piloting consoles blasting away. Patricia would prefer not to destroy the UFO itself, but some damaged equipment was acceptable.

“Ralph! Switch with Veronika!” She ordered as she readied her autorifle. “Then suppress the left one. I’ll get the right. Veronika and Yeva flank and kill them. Everyone else enter and suppress!”

“Copy!” Veronika shouted and Ralph took her place and the rest of them lined up behind them, waiting for the word. Patricia took a deep breath and let the world become less vibrant, noisy and _distracting_ , instead focusing on the power within her. She tuned herself to the minds of her squad, their senses, their feelings, and brought everything into one cohesive union.

It was getting easier.

The plasma fire stopped for one seconds and that was all she needed. She spun around the entrance and directed a deadly stream of Gauss fire on the outsider and Ralph completed that directly alongside her, all in perfect harmony. The rest of the soldiers had already started moving when she did and were inside the UFO in seconds.

Jamali, Garen and Renato took positions behind the short alloy barriers within the ship and added to the barrage, their minds connected as they systematically locked down the outsider preventing it from moving even an inch without being utterly annihilated. As it was the sheer volume of fire was shredding the consoles they were hiding behind.

Veronika and Yeva dashed right behind the elevated control deck where the outsiders were trapped. Yeva fired a blast which somehow missed the leftmost outsider, but did force it to back up to deal with the new threat. It was immediately hit by Garen and Ralph, the force of the rounds cracking its head and back.

Veronika fired two quick bursts at the other outsider, the first of which hit its chest which sparked and cracked, and the second volley slammed into it’s head, shattering it into pieces as the supercharged metal shards eviscerated it like cheap steel. Yeva fired another volley at the now exposed outsider which slammed into its upper chest and neck. Everyone had turned their fire to the remaining outsider and within seconds it was torn apart by the hundreds of rounds directed into it.

The instant the outsider began disintegrating all of them were immediately reloading. At this point Patricia would have let the mental influence fade, but she held on for the moment. Ignoring the mounting pressure in her brain, she immediately directed everyone to the next UFO and they all began moving towards it in perfect synchronization.

She needed to become more powerful, and that would only come with practice.

None of them were surprised when Lesedi pulled out a smoke grenade and tossed it towards the entrance of the second UFO. The instant the outsiders charged outside all of them were taking positions behind burned cars and highway dividers and unleashing a hail of fire towards the crystalline beings.

One of them was grazed several times by gauss fire but managed to get into cover behind a truck. The other took position behind the UFO entrance itself and began returning fire. Patricia began to feel the pressure became unbearable and dropped her autorifle and focused on maintaining the connection just a little longer.

Her fists clenched, she felt it stabilize and observed Ralph and Renato begin laying down suppressive fire on the outsiders, while Jamali and Garen pulled out twin symbiote grenades and tossed them towards the two outsiders at the same time. At the same time Veronika and Yeva took advantage of the soon-to-be pinned outsiders and charged around the vehicles for flank shots.

The outsiders were too slow to react to the rapidly changing battlefield. The one by the UFO itself tried to run and was immediately hit with gauss fire and a mistiming of the grenade immediately trapped it out in the open and it was annihilated by one direct headshot from Lesedi. The other stayed in place, apparently resigning itself to being trapped. But that didn’t save it from the twin alloy cannons of Yeva and Veronika, both firing at the same time to ensure it was killed.

With that done Patricia finally let the connection break and staggered as the realities of the world entered her at blinding speeds. Her vision briefly swam and she stumbled against the car she’d been taking cover behind. Everything seemed so much _louder_ as it all rushed back into her. Someone helped her up. _Jamali_. Yes, that’s who she felt.

She took a moment to regain control, closed her eyes and opened them again as the squad gathered around her. “You ok?” Garen asked, concern emanating from him.

“Fine,” she breathed as she turned her attention forward. “That just takes a lot out of me.”

“What the hell _was_ that,” Ralph asked incredulously. “That was…I’ve never experienced anything like it. That was you?”

“Yes,” Patricia grunted as she raised her autorifle. “I was helping you.”

 _“Ask questions later,”_ the Commander interjected. _“You might want to end this battle soon. It appears that the explosions are weakening the dam. If it gets worse, it might break.”_

“Great,” Patricia muttered. “Let’s get to work. Lesedi, get to one of those watchtowers.”

“On it!” She confirmed and began dashing towards the nearest watchtower. Patricia motioned everyone behind her and they moved forward. EXALT was still putting up a good fight, but the amount of fire and explosions had definitely diminished. Patricia saw that the sectoids she’d directed had died, though not before seemingly taking out a mechtoid. One cyberdisks was still in the air, will most of the drones.

The floaters were dead from what she could see, but there were still at least eight mutons pressing the attack. The massive mechtoid was holding back, and had turned around to presumably face them. It raised it’s weapons confidently as they approached. But it contained a sectoid, and sectoids were nothing to her.

“Lesedi, begin targeting the mutons,” she ordered as she stopped walking and extended her hand towards the massive mechtoid. “I’ll take care of this. Kill it and move on.”

She gathered the power around her and pushed into the mind of the mechtoid, or what was left of it. It was interesting, far different than a MEC which was the easiest comparison. It was a complete sectoid mind, not diminished in any way from a regular mind. And that made it vulnerable. _Lower your weapons_. She sent, pressing that instruction into its mind.

The massive alien hesitated and then did so. _React to nothing._ She emphasized as her squad opened fire on the mechtoid. She locked down it’s mind as it struggled to react as the rounds tore it’s mechanics apart, ravaged it’s body and brought with it debilitating pain. Yes, the sectoid encased it this metal shell still felt pain.

And she used it against it, amplifying everything it felt. The slightest scratch felt like boiling acid, a direct hit was like getting amputated with anesthetic. The alien screamed in her mind and audibly, the shriek high-pitched and nothing she’d ever heard for an alien.

Well, except the Hive Commander.

It’s misery was finally ended when Yeva fired an alloy cannon blast into it’s face, turning the flesh and bone into mush. Patricia felt the connection cut and observed the sparking mechanical wreck fall to the ground with a massive thud. The cyberdisk above her exploded from EXALT fire, and the drone closest to it was shot out of the sky by Lesedi.

Patricia grinned as she looked at the pitiful remaining alien force. Lesedi had killed two mutons, another had succumbed to EXALT fire and two more had been killed by presumably Garen and Renato. The remaining three mutons were scrambling to find _somewhere_ to run, terror threatening to consume them as they became boxed it.

The remaining mechtoid was similarly affected, but it did it’s best to keep firing at them. Something she put an end to by taking control of its mind the same as the other. _Kill them_ , she directed, forcing it to aim it’s weapons at the mutons. Two plasma blasts from its cannons annihilated one, Veronika killed another seconds later.

Lesedi shot the final drone out of the sky and the combined fire of Ralph and Renato killed the last one. Patricia kept ahold of the mechtoid’s mind, keeping it idle as the battlefield became quiet. Alien corpses and wrecks surrounded them, and she could see a large amount of corpses where EXALT had established themselves.

Her left hand held up as a physical reminder she was controlling the mechtoid, she walked towards the EXALT line which began backing away as she had the mechtoid stand behind her. They raised their weapons as her squad came up and took positions. There were only fifteen of them left, and she could feel their apprehension and fear.

They wouldn’t surrender. She could sense that much. Afraid they might be, but surrender was one word they didn’t know. There was only one way this would end. She prepared to give the order when the sound of a door being ripped off its hinges broke the silence. Patricia watched in surprise as a woman sheathed in purple energy jumped out, her face contorted in fury, her eyes glowing a vibrant purple.

“She’s free!” One of the EXALT soldiers shouted. “Kill her!”

They immediately began firing at the woman, XCOM forgotten. She snarled and began attacking them. Patricia watched the fight in wonder as she witnessed the woman literally tear the soldiers apart. So, another psionic. That explained a lot.

“Should we help?” Garen asked, walking up.

“No,” Patricia shook her head, glancing up at the entranced mechtoid. “I think she’s got it under control.”

More importantly, it seemed she had a score to settle with them, and what she was seeing was any indication, Patricia did _not_ want to risk stopping her.

“Kill the mechtoid,” she ordered, as she kept watching. “I don’t think we’ll need it.”

***

_Several Minutes Earlier_

It all came to her in a rush. Sound, sight and feeling. She immediately felt her surroundings. _Latrell. Two others. Concerned, but not at her._ She attempted to move and realized she was bound. The rest of it came flooding back. Their escape. Stopping to fix a tire. Latrell being taken out and subsequently her.

_EXALT._

They had her. Or would have if she hadn’t woken up.

She suspected she had Latrell to thank for her awakening. Stupid of EXALT not to consider him a threat. He’d done his part.

Now it was time to do hers.

She focused on one of the soldiers who was in the vehicle. Something was happening outside, but she didn’t care. Everything was focused on controlling this one man. She focused on it with the subtlety of a train, impressing only one major command on his mind. _Kill your friend and free us._

“Hey?” The soldier said, her voice sounding concerned. “Are you alright.”

“Fine,” he responded, her control devoiding his voice of any emotion. “Nothing to worry about.”

She smiled as she heard a pistol shot and a few seconds later she felt herself being turned over and the restraints being taken off, the soldier performing his instructions with no hesitation. Once Latrell was free as well, she stood and faced the soldier who was standing in the middle of the truck. Any effects of the sedatives were wiped away as she gathered her power.

“Thank you,” she told Latrell, letting herself become enveloped in the hate she felt for these people. “I’ll finish this.”

“What are you going to do?” He asked, swallowing.

Her skin split apart as her arms were enveloped by acidic energy that writhed around her. She let go of the soldier’s mind whose eyes filled with terror as he realized what had happened. “I’m going to kill every single one of them,” she hissed, drawing the power into her hands and thrusting out.

A deep purple wave threw the man into the truck door with enough force that it blew it off its hinges and into the front of another truck. The man’s limbs were contorted and it looked like his chest was crushed. It didn’t matter, the impact alone had killed him. Annette leapt out and immediately saw a large number of EXALT soldiers.

Surprise and terror leaked off them and she drew on that. They were right to be afraid of her, and now all of them were going to die. “She’s free!” One of them shouted as all of them scrambled back through the street littered with burning vehicles. “Kill her!” Annette snarled and thrust her arm toward the offending man who was thrown far into the air and off the bridge they were on.

Annette immediately charged toward the nearest guard and grabbed his throat, turning him into a human shield. Her energy-encased hand burned through the thick cloth around his neck, burning his throat. They tried encircling her, firing small laser bursts, but it was too late for them. She gathered more energy into her hand and slammed them together, creating a shockwave that blew all of them back and to the ground.

She then focused more energy to the hand that was holding the soldier, and thrived from the pain she felt from him as the energy ripped him apart. A few seconds later she tossed his ripped corpse to the ground. Annette then directed the energy shears towards a small group of three soldiers who were struggling to get up.

They stood no chance as the energy eviscerated their weak bodies, leaving only three bloody corpses on the ground. All the soldiers she could have at least tried to control, but she wasn’t interested in that right now. They needed to die by her hand. Two more were raising weapons and she formed a ball of crackling energy in her hand and thrust it towards them.

The woman instantly died as it hit her, and once it did, she expanded the ball to explode, turning the upper body of the woman to meaty chunks and blowing most of the man’s face off. A laser wildly missed from behind her, and she whirled on the source, another soldier by the edge of the bridge, frantically trying to line up another shot. She simply sent another burst of energy his way and threw him off to his death.

The last group of soldiers were actually running further into the bridge, towards some more people in armor. But they seemed distinctly different. And weren’t helping. Enemies? It didn’t matter, if they attacked her, they’d die to. As it stood now, Annette extended her arms towards the fleeing soldiers, purple energy wrapping around their bodies forcing them to collapse to the ground, writhing in agony.

She let the energy continue ravaging them as she approached slowly. She wanted to make it last, so they would have something of a taste of what she’d endured. Satisfaction and joy filled her as she watched the soldiers die a slow, painful death. They were still alive, but everything within them was ripped apart and they would die within a minute at most. Any more and she risked killing them outright.

Not good enough.

She ceased the flow of energy and let their bleeding bodies shut themselves down on her own and turned her attention to the last soldier, a woman cowering close to the edge of the bridge. Her weapon was clearly tossed away, as if that would save her. Encased in purple flame, Annette walked slowly towards her, enjoying her terror that practically dripped off her.

“Stop! Please!” The woman begged. “I was just following orders!”

 _“You were,”_ Annette growled as she grabbed her throat with a glowing hand. _“And you will die because of that.”_

The woman screamed as Annette directed the writhing energy into her body, cutting, slicing, and crushing her skin, organs and bones into smaller pieces. Blood spurted from her multiple wounds onto her, but Annette didn’t care. She kept the speed her body was torn apart slow, so this woman would feel every part of her slowly being destroyed.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Minutes or hours, she didn’t know, nor care. The woman was still alive, and would be screaming had she a throat left. At this point she was barely more than a bloody, blinded and hairless husk of a human. She would die soon, but she still had a couple minutes before her body shut down completely.

Annette let go of her neck and let the body of the female EXALT soldier fall to the ground. Confident she’d never rise, she turned her attention to the other group of soldiers, one of whom was coming up to her. Her red armor was scratched and covered in dust, soot and alien blood, but it didn’t seem to be EXALT.

“You can stop now,” she told her quietly, raising her hands slowly to take off her helmet. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 _“Prove it,”_ Annette snarled, raising a glowing hand in warning.

The woman took off her helmet and tucked it under her arm. She actually didn’t seem _that_ much older than her. Her chestnut hair was put up, and her face was smooth and seemed concerned. Like she cared.

“I’m with XCOM,” she continued. “We’re fighting EXALT, Annette. That’s your name, yes?”

XCOM.

They’d actually managed to find them. After everything they’d gone through, they’d actually done it. Annette let the power she was holding onto fade and gasped as it receded. Which was then she realized something. “How do you know who I am?” She asked, wincing as the wounds on her arms became apparent.

The woman raised her left hand, the back of it facing her. Annette watched with amazement as it shimmered with a faint purple energy. “Because I’m like you, Annette,” she assured her. After a few seconds she let it fade and let her hand drop to her side.

“You’re like me,” Annette repeated numbly, not quite believing what was happening. “Then you know what it’s like…”

“All too well,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Patricia, XCOM Psion. We can help you, and your boyfriend who’s coming out of the truck now.”

Annette gratefully took her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Please, get us somewhere safe.”

“Don’t worry,” Patricia assured her as she led them back across the road. “You won’t have to run or hide anymore. You’re safe now.”

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Deluge

_Personnel:_

Grizzly 1 ( _Squad Overseer_ ): Psion Patricia Trask

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 4

Grizzly 2: Specialist Jamali Muhammad

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

Grizzly 3: Specialist Lesedi Iminathi

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 4

Grizzly 4: Specialist Veronika Slava

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Grizzly 5: Specialist Ralph Tritagor

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Grizzly 6: Specialist Renato Caio

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

Grizzly 7: Specialist Yeva Hurik

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Grizzly 8: Specialist Garen Sevan

                **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

_Artifacts Recovered:_

-2x Mechtoid Wrecks (Moderate Condition)

-1x Enhanced Mechtoid Wreck (Moderate Condition)

-12x Sectoid Corpses (Moderate Condition)

-6x Floater Wrecks (Moderate Condition)

-2x Cyberdisk Wrecks (Moderate Condition)

-4x Drone Wrecks (Moderate Condition)

-16x Muton Corpses (Moderate Condition)

-2x Alien Power Sources

-500 Alien Alloys (Assorted)

-134 Alien Weapon Fragments

-40x Assorted EXALT Weapons

-35x EXALT Soldier Corpses

-6x MELD Canisters (Recovered from UFOs)

-Assorted EXALT Equipment

 

_Personnel Recovered:_

                -Annette Durand

                -Latrell Moreau


	35. Dark Mirrors

 

_The Bastion, Bedroom_

Saudia stood in front of her mirror. On the surface at least, everything appeared normal, even if she wasn’t currently in her EXALT uniform. She stared emotionlessly into her reflection, eyes lingering on the new scars on her neck. At the time she’d believed that had been an illusion, an effect of the Ravaged One’s presence. But no, after waking up with bandages around her neck, she’d been told that the damage had been very real.

Not permanent, thankfully, but it served as a very stark reminder of what had happened. She didn’t know if the Ravaged One had intended it to happen, but after analyzing that conversation so many times in her head…she wasn’t sure he’d even cared if it had happened or not.

It wasn’t as though she needed a brand to remember him by.

 _Apathy_. _Apathy_ and _contempt_. That was what stood out to her. For all his talk about her assumed superiority, he was the embodiment of it. But the stark difference was that she _believed_ it. It didn’t matter to him what her position was or how much power she wielded on this planet. In the end, she was human and subject to her physical and personal failings and that was something the Ravaged One had no sympathy for.

What had she done?

Everything was coming apart.

And it was her fault.

She wondered if anyone would say anything, or would even be brave enough to. She’d spent the last couple of days trying to recover and think about what to possibly do next.

Because right now, she was lost.

That was a word she’d never ascribed to herself. Not once. Even in the worst situations, she always had some idea of what the right path was. Some idea that made rational sense. But not here. What were the options? Help the aliens and betray her planet, or refuse and get everyone and everything that mattered to her destroyed or killed?

She’d screwed up. Badly.

The Ravaged One had been right. She’d been arrogant and that arrogance and superiority had blinded her. She could clearly remember at the beginning, back when she was confident that _she_ would be the one to fulfill their ultimate goal of taking control of the world. That _she_ would be the one to outwit the aliens, use them as pawns, and discard them when finished.

But she’d been outplayed. The Elders had tricked her, played to her superiority and pride in EXALT superiority. They used her as an unwitting puppet and she kept foolishly pushing and pushing, so sure she was in control, and they’d humbled her in the most effective way possible. What use was everything they had if one lone alien could tear it all down just by entering?

Should she step down?

That question had entered her mind several times. She’d been the instigator of this mess and should face the consequences. But then she’d be risking the future of EXALT, leaving it in hands of a possible alien puppet. At least with her, she’d never willingly betray humanity, but she fully believed the Ravaged One when he said they’d find someone to replace her. They existed, even in EXALT.

But was that a good reason to stay? Because _she_ knew better? If anything, recent events had clearly proven otherwise. Maybe someone new was needed. 

Maybe she didn’t want to give up her power.

She’d rallied against the Ravaged One’s declaration that she cared about nothing but power…but now wasn’t really sure what to think about that anymore. Why _was_ she doing this? Why _did_ she want to become Director in the first place?

Because she had a vision for EXALT. A plan. A goal. She felt like she was best suited to lead EXALT. That’s what she’d believed her entire life, but she’d have been lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the power and authority her position entailed. She’d always taken satisfaction in utilizing it against her opponents or enemies in inferior positions.

But was that the _only_ thing that mattered to her? No, that she could say for certain. But it had become a bigger part of her than she realized.

_Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely._

She’d memorized those words when she’d decided to become Director. She’d studied tyrants and dictators, promising to herself that she’d never become what they had. That mantra was a personal warning for her, and one she now wondered if she’d misinterpreted all her life.

She’d done her best as Director, giving her subordinates respect, authority and motivation to rally around her. She’d tried to be as fair and level-headed when it came to making decisions, trying to get a variety of opinions before making important ones. She’d tried to improve the lives of her soldiers and those in the Bastion. All in an attempt to ensure she didn’t fall to corruption.

But she had, though not in the way she expected.

She’d increased EXALT’s power and influence in the world. While it might have been initially unintentional, she’d become the most powerful woman in the world. If she wanted something done, it _would_ get done eventually. Governments, countries, people, none of their authority and power equaled hers. They were powerless before her directives. She pulled the strings they weren’t even aware of.

Was that absolute power? She considered it so on Earth. Before the aliens. Before XCOM. And that absolute power _had_ deluded her into believing that not only was she unstoppable, she was _invincible_. _Nothing_ could stop her. _Nothing_ could defeat her. She could change the world if she wished it. What could _possibly_ challenge someone like her?

Arrogance. She’d been corrupted by arrogance. By believing she was infallible, she’d fallen into the same trap so many had before her.

She wondered if anyone else had even come to this realization, when the end was visibly in sight.

Maybe.

Maybe that’s why some killed themselves, rather than seeing everything they’d built collapse into nothing.

“Saudia?”

Ethan’s voice. She hadn’t even heard him come up. She turned to see Ethan coming in from the doorway, in his unarmored uniform. He’d managed everything at the base while she’d recovered, and now she felt incredibly bad that he was the one holding everything together. She needed to get back to work soon, no matter how she felt.

He’d kept his distance, knowing that she’d needed time on her own. But right now she didn’t want to be alone, she needed someone else to ask what to do because she didn’t trust herself right now. So instead of giving some kind of answer, she walked over and pulled him into a hug.

He seemed surprised, and for good reason. She never did anything like this, at least not when things were stressful. That had been reserved for more intimate moments, never simply for comfort. But he seemed to get over it quickly and returned it, both of them relaxing against each other for an indeterminate amount of time.

Saudia finally let go and stepped back, slightly embarrassed at herself for doing that, though Ethan didn’t seem to share the sentiment. “Hey,” he said, taking her hands into his own. “You ready to talk?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to do.”

He gave a small smile and led her over to the edge of the bed where they both sat down. “Yes you do,” he told her. “You just haven’t realized it yet. You have a solution to every problem, no matter what.”

She sighed. “Maybe I do,” she paused for a second. “Should I step down?”

She looked over at his shocked face, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Hear me out,” she sighed, raising a hand to forestall whatever he was going to say. “This is my fault. Clear and simple. Because of me, we’re facing the choice between being a puppet or being wiped out. I’m not sure my judgment can be trusted after it lead to this position. Like it or not, someone else may be more suited to leading us out of this.”

Ethan was silent for a moment. “Why are you talking about it like everything is _your_ fault?” He asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “You are the Director, but the decisions that led to this point were _not_ unilateral.”

“But _I’m_ the one who pressed them,” Saudia insisted. “ _I’m_ the one who insisted on using the aliens. _I’m_ the one who continuously underestimated XCOM. I was overly arrogant and this is a direct result of that.”

“You _convinced_ them to agree with you,” Ethan pointed out. “For what we knew, the arguments you posed were good. You _never_ forced anyone to agree with you, that’s not how you work, you never have. You’re one of the few Directors I know of who _doesn’t_ make unilateral decisions that affect us.”

He shook his head. “You do deserve blame for this situation. So do I. _All_ of us do. You are at fault here-but so is everyone else. The families agreed with you, followed you, and by doing so were agreeing that, while not ideal, this _was_ the best way forward.”

“Do you really think they believe that?” Saudia demanded wearily. “They followed me because they _trusted_ me. They believed I knew what I was doing. Look where that’s gotten us.”

Ethan sighed dramatically. “Saudia…” he began slowly. “You’re not special. You’re not the only one who can make major mistakes. Great leaders _do_ make them occasionally, trust me, I know. Your mistakes are not irreversible, and leaving isn’t a good solution. Besides, who could possibly done any better than you in this situation? You worked with what was given, and to be honest, made decisions that the rest of us probably would.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “But I don’t know how to fix it. One way makes us traitors to our species, and the other will get us all killed.”

“And those are the only two?” Ethan pressed. “Really?”

“The only two feasible ones,” Saudia defended hotly. “We can’t exactly do _nothing.”_

“No,” Ethan agreed. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to go to one extreme or another. There is a middle ground, and I’m sure you’ll find it.”

His confidence was reassuring, but wasn’t enough to completely assuage the doubt she had. But he did have a point that resigning wasn’t the best move. What would she do? Sit around and do nothing? No, it would feel like running away, and she had to at least try and fix this. “Fine,” she said. “I won’t resign on my own. But if the families make that decision, I’ll abide by it.”

“They won’t,” Ethan assured her. “Even if they personally feel otherwise, no one wants this burden. No one wants to make the decisions you do.”

“But they will want a plan,” she muttered.

“So come up with one,” he said, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “We need you to take charge again, Director. You’ll figure this out, I know it.” He nodded towards the bed. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted and won’t figure out anything tonight.”

She smiled. “I guess that’s a good idea.” Both of them repositioned and laid out flat on the bed, Saudia curled up against him, head resting on his shoulder with his arm around her. She felt she needed to say something since tomorrow they might not have time. “I love you.” She whispered.

She felt him pull her a little closer. “I love you too, Saudia.”

She smiled in the darkness and took some comfort in that. Both of their admissions weren’t really useful in the real world, but right now she felt they both needed to hear it. As Ethan quickly fell asleep, she remained fully aware, her eyes focused sightlessly outward as she listened to his rhythmic breathing.

Her mind worked furiously, trying to figure out some kind of solution. All the pieces were available, they just needed to play them in the right order. And the more she thought, about EXALT, the aliens, XCOM, and the world, an answer slowly emerged.

It needed refining. But right now, it was the best they had.

An idea realized, she finally allowed herself to fall asleep against Ethan’s chest.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“In short, it seems as though EXALT was transporting a human psion,” the Commander summed up. “Based on what we saw, the most likely explanation is that the aliens attempted to take the psionic and EXALT refused.”

 _“And none of the EXALT soldiers…survived?”_ The Speaker asked.

“None,” the Commander confirmed, shaking his head. “The psion escaped and killed them. Rather violently, I might add.”

 _“I suppose that is to be…expected, given what she likely endured,”_ the Speaker conceded. _“Where is she now?”_

“Being treated in the Citadel’s Medical Ward,” he answered. “We’ve identified both the psionic, Annette Durand, and her boyfriend, Latrell Moreau. From talking with him, I suspect EXALT planned to use him to coerce Annette into doing what they wanted.”

 _“Is she stable?”_ The Speaker asked. _“There is likely mental trauma from such an…event.”_

“To be determined,” the Commander admitted. “In any case, she’ll be staying here. The Citadel is the safest place for psions, and she knows important intel about EXALT. Stable or not, she’s not fit to go free.”

 _“Has she revealed anything of import?”_ The Speaker asked. _“If EXALT is fielding human psionics of their own…”_

The Commander hesitated. “From what she’s said, no. They’re still experimenting. Though she did reveal she wasn’t the only one they had.”

 _“That is…concerning,”_ the Speaker muttered. _“Though your team is to be commended for completing the mission so…efficiently.”_

“Appreciated,” the Commander said, internally wincing as he moved onto the next topic. Much as he didn’t want to, the Council did need to be brought up to speed on the danger of the Ethereals. The Council _was_ aware they’d captured an alien spy, though he’d intentionally left out some details, such as the fact that Nartha had turned himself in.

He disliked leaving out details like that, but he couldn’t trust certain elements of the Council not to use that against him. “There is another matter that needs to be discussed.”

_“And what is that?”_

“The aliens are becoming more aggressive,” the Commander revealed. “I presume you read the report detailing what we learned from the alien spy?”

 _“Yes, we have,”_ he confirmed with a small nod. _“It was…illuminating.”_

“That is was,” the Commander agreed. “Recall what we learned about the Ethereals.”

 _“The leaders of this alien collective,”_ the Speaker recalled. _“Supposedly very few and very dangerous.”_

“We’ve encountered one,” the Commander stated bluntly. “The situation in Plymouth was the result of an Ethereal attack.”

 _“And you failed to respond in time?”_ The Speaker demanded.

“No, we did,” the Commander admitted. “And we failed to stop it. The entire team was killed, and we have confirmation that this Ethereal is likely as powerful as the alien spy believed.”

The Speaker was silent for a few moments. _“That is…worrying. The Council requests that you send the footage of the encounter as soon as possible.”_

“It will be done,” the Commander nodded. “But the reason I bring this up is because the Ethereal might strike again, and the Council should be prepared for that eventuality. We are working to develop counters to it, but as of this point, we do not have a reliable means to defeat it.”

 _“You understand what you are saying, Commander,”_ the Speaker warned. _“This does not instill confidence, regardless of your recent performance.”_

“In that case, please ask the Council to make up it’s mind,” the Commander stated wearily. “Do they want me to lie to them or not? Were this less serious I would not mention it until a solution was developed. But as it stands, the Council needs to know the precarious nature of the situation and prepare accordingly.”

 _“Noted, Commander,”_ the Speaker inclined his head. _“Regardless of personal feelings of you personally, there is a consensus that XCOM is best equipped to handle this.”_

About time they realized that. Maybe the Council was finally not going to be something to worry about. Maybe China leaving was a blessing in disguise. _“That being said,”_ the Speaker interrupted. _“The Council condemns the recent alliance between XCOM and Taiwan, and recognizing it as an independent state.”_

Oh dear. Whatever would he do? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead sighed. “Duly noted. Anything else?”

 _“The Council strongly recommends you reconsider any…further actions…against China,”_ the Speaker warned. _“Should your blatant antagonization continue, the Council will demand concessions from XCOM.”_

And just like that, the Council was back to being a problem. “Then perhaps China should not have left the Council,” the Commander stated coldly. “In doing so they have put their pride ahead of humanity. I will deal with them as is necessary, whether the Council approves or not.”

The Commander paused. “China may be leveraging members of the Council to push this, but that is something I will not respect. Everyone knows China is wrong when it comes to Taiwan. Maybe actually have the courage to stand by that.”

 _“I will convey that to the Council,”_ the Speaker stated neutrally. _“Good luck, Commander. We will be watching.”_

The screen turned off and the Commander looked at it for a few minutes. Well, that went as good as it could have. The Council might prove to be a problem _again_ , but he was well beyond considering them a major concern anymore. If all went well, soon the Council would be disbanded and XCOM would be funded in full by an alliance with actual power.

Now he should probably go check up on Annette. 

***

_The Citadel, Medical Ward_

“Report,” the Commander ordered Blake as he looked into the room where Annette was being examined. One of the doctors was asking her questions and young woman seemed to be giving half-hearted answers. She had been given a white XCOM-issue shirt and clothes. Latrell was also in the room, eyeing the doctor warily as he leaned against the wall.

“Extreme scarring on her arms and upper chest,” Blake began as he also looked into the room. “It appears to be a direct result of using her psionic abilities. I’m not sure if this would be standard or a side-effect because of the way her powers were awakened.”

The Commander frowned. “Can it kill her?”

“Kill her?” Blake repeated in surprise, turning to the Commander. “No, no. I’m not quite sure how it works, but it does appear to heal to an extent once she returns to…normal. But it does seem that the extent of scarring is directly proportional to the usage of her powers.”

“So it could spread further,” the Commander finished. “Does she know?”

“Not as far as I know,” Blake answered. “I don’t think she’s been concerned about that. Besides, I’d prefer not to say for certain until we have data to back it up. I’m certain it’s painful, but she seems to have…accepted it, for lack of a better word.”

That she had. If that demonstration at the dam was any indication, she’d probably found a way to use it. “Is she stable?”

“Physically? Yes, pretty healthy, actually,” Blake answered slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. “Mentally…I’m unsure. Psychology isn’t my field, Commander, but I can’t imagine that she’s mentally sound with what she went through. She’s volatile; surprise or startle her and it might set her off. I’d be careful around her. She isn’t Patricia.”

No, and that was a potential problem. While he didn’t think she posed a direct threat to him, he didn’t trust Annette Durand, especially if her mental abilities were as extensive as Patricia’s. She might learn things he didn’t exactly want public yet. She was a security risk, but she was also a tool he couldn’t afford to remove.

“I want to talk to her now,” the Commander said, walking towards the door. “Monitor her for any psionic bursts.”

“Will do,” Blake promised.

The Commander opened the door and stepped inside. The doctor that was speaking with Annette looked up, saluted and left immediately. With her gone, the Commander looked at the woman sitting in front of him. Cropped brown hair, oval face and the eyes of a frightened animal. Blake hadn’t exaggerated; her arms were scarred to such an extent he would have thought they were a result of third-degree burns or acid if he hadn’t known better.

Her mental pain tolerance must be higher than his if she could move them normally without screaming. Impressive.

“Annette Durand?” He greeted. “I am the Commander of XCOM.”

“Commander…” she began hesitantly, waiting for a name. She was definitely French from her accent.

“’Commander’ will suffice.”

“Ah, yes, Commander,” she said with a quick nod. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” the Commander inclined his head. “I don’t know what exactly you endured with them, but rest assured that we are no friends of EXALT.”

“I know,” Annette nodded quickly. “It’s why we were trying to find you,” she nodded to Latrell. “We didn’t know why, but EXALT is worried about you, so it made sense to try and find you.”

Really. Now that was interesting. “So why did you want to find us?” The Commander asked. “Asylum? We can provide that if you wish. EXALT won’t find you here.”

“Because I want EXALT destroyed,” Annette hissed, her sudden anger shifting the air around her. “You’re the only ones fighting them. I want to help you kill them.”

She didn’t lack spirit. And she was _probably_ not going to like what he said. “I see. Ms. Durand, do you know what XCOM is?”

“An anti-alien task force?” She guessed.

“Correct,” the Commander answered slowly. “You won’t like this, but EXALT is not our directive. We’ve taken steps to reduce its influence, and have actually begun crippling its media network over the past few days. But we’ve reach a point where EXALT does not pose a direct threat to us. The aliens do, and that threat is much more real than what the media says. I apologize, but EXALT is not a priority military target unless they decide to attack us again.”

Annette scowled, but said nothing immediately. “What about after the aliens are gone?” She finally asked.

“Then EXALT will be dealt with,” the Commander assured her. “I won’t have the world influenced by a shadow organization. Especially one what commits atrocities that both of us have experienced.”

“Good enough,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Then let me help you fight the aliens. EXALT can wait, or they’ll die on their own. In the meantime, I can give you information about EXALT, where I was held and more.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “You’re powerful and talented, Annette. But this is a military. If you want to join, then you’ll have to follow orders. I suppose it depends if you can do that.”

“If those orders involve killing aliens, of course,” she nodded.

“No,” the Commander stated bluntly. “ _All_ orders. Even ones you disagree with. _Especially_ those. I am lenient to a point, Annette, but I will not tolerate soldiers dying because of your refusal to follow my orders, or those of any other overseer. Your psionic powers do not grant extra privileges. Rank is earned here, not given.”

“Point taken, Commander,” she nodded. “My decision hasn’t changed.”

The Commander smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. That offer extends to you as well, Moreau.”

“Accepted,” Latrell said. “Someone’s gonna need to help her around this.”

“Now, with that out of the way,” the Commander began, turning his attention back to Annette. “Let’s discuss your time with EXALT in more detail.”

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

“So what did you find?” Cerian demanded as Ren pulled up a chair.

“I just got back,” Ren protested as he sat down. “Are there any water-“

“Way ahead of you,” Olivia interrupted, tossing him one of the water bottle and pulled up a chair beside them. He caught it easily. “Now come on. I’m really curious what you learned about this guy.”

“Very little, actually,” Ren answered as he opened the bottle and took a sip. “I’m pretty sure he’s not formally involved in Solaris Industries itself, though he’s pretty much allowed anywhere.”

“Probably an officer of some kind,” Cerian guessed, already coming up with plausible explanations. “Intelligence, judging by how much he knew.”

“Never heard mention of anything intelligence related,” Ren shrugged. “But I did hear mention of a ‘Chronicler’. Take that for what you will. It might be our mystery man.”

“Yeah, he’s not a librarian,” Olivia snorted derisively. “That guy knew way too much to just be someone so…menial.”

“Maybe EXALT has different naming conventions,” Cerian proposed, crossing his arms. “And ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Did you learn anything else useful?”

“That was my job,” Ren pulled over the map of Seattle and circled a location with a red marker. “This is where he lives. Oddly secluded, but good for us.”

“Because he’s probably got it protected,” Cerian guessed. “He wouldn’t isolate himself without some form of protection.”

“Not that I saw,” Ren disagreed with a shake of his head. “I checked the place out several times. No security. No guards. It’s something you’d expect from a civilian, not an intelligence officer.”

Cerian frowned. That went against every instinct he had. But if that was the case…and he _did_ trust Ren…then he wouldn’t complain. “Interesting. And you have a daily pattern set up?”

“Of course,” Ren confirmed easily, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “Leaves around ten, wanders around the city, talks to random people, gets back between six and ten. He’ll also usually stop by Solaris Industries at least once.”

“Gives us plenty of time,” Olivia nodded. “And no security? For sure?”

“At least not on the outside,” Ren corrected. “He might have some in the room itself, but we can scan for those easily.”

“Then we’ll do that,” Cerian confirmed. “The rest of them are setting up for the actual infiltration. Whoever this guy is, we’ll soon find out and use that to help us.”

“Just in case, what do we do if he actually shows up?” Ren asked, getting up.

“Capture him if possible,” Cerian ordered. “If not…we don’t have a choice but to kill him.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Olivia commented, getting up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“Second that,” Cerian groaned. “Only got a few hours to daylight anyway. Let’s make them count.”

With that all of them went to sleep and awoke at the planned times without and problems. They’d discussed the plan at length well before now, the last night was mostly a formality and confirmation. Cerian wanted to know what that man had, and to accomplish that, they had to break into where he lived.

Simple enough, and in the unlikely event he showed up, Cerian was certain that he could beat him. He may be an old man, but _that_ guy really _was_ old. Likely not in as good of shape either. And with Ren and Olivia backing him up, Cerian was confident they could handle whatever they encountered.

The drive itself took almost an hour, but they had plenty of time before the man showed back up according to Ren. The place the apartment was wasn’t that bad, overall. It wasn’t luxury, but neither was it a shady dump. It was simply a nice, middle-class, apartment complex. Cerian even saw children playing in the streets.

“So, who’s staying here?” Ren asked as he parked. “I know this area a bit better, so I’m up for it.”

“You sure you don’t want to see what’s inside?” Olivia asked humorously as she checked her concealed pistol.

“I’m sure I’ll hear all about it,” Ren responded, rolling his eyes. “Go on. Let’s try to get this done as soon as possible. I don’t want _today_ of all days to be the one he decides to come home early.”

“Well, that’s why you’ll warn us,” Cerian reminded him, opening the door. “Come on, Olivia.”

Both of them walked up to the second floor and to the apartment Ren had marked. “Well, let’s see what kind of lock it is,” Cerian muttered as he tried to turn the handle and to his surprise, it opened.

“No lock?” Olivia muttered incredulously. “You sure this is right?”

Cerian double checked the number. “Completely.”

Olivia withdrew the electronic scanner. “One moment.” At her nod, he drew his pistol and pushed the door open to reveal a completely normal apartment entrance. It was fairly standard, with a small kitchen off to the right, and a living room with some couches and television in the rest of it. A hallway to the middle right likely led to some bedrooms and a bathroom.

Scanner still in hand, he and Olivia both advanced slowly, Cerian taking note of any oddities. Nothing really as far as he could tell. It was very clean, so much to the extent that this guy really didn’t spend much time here or he was expecting guests. “Doesn’t seem to be anything here,” Cerian said. “Move to the hallway.”

She nodded and they both walked slowly down them until they reached the end and it broke into a bedroom on the left, and bathroom on the right. Cerian looked in the bedroom and his lips curled into a smile. A suitcase was on the ground by the bed, and off to the corner was a file cabinet and setting on the nightstand was a laptop.

“Bingo,” Olivia muttered. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Get what’s on the laptop,” Cerian ordered as he went to the filing cabinet. “Let me check this.”

While she did that, he knelt down by the cabinet and opened it. To his surprise, it was packed. Rows upon rows of files filled it. All of them were ordered in symbols he’d never seen, and he pulled one out at random to see what it said.

“The hell?” He muttered, squinting as he looked at the file. It seemed to be written in some kind of…symbol language. Hieroglyphics on steroids, almost. Whatever it was, he had no clue on how to even possibly begin translating it. He had to take one, just to see what exactly this guy was using to write his files. All of it appeared to be handwritten as well, an oddity in a digital age.

He glanced over to see Olivia still getting the data from the laptop and thumbed through some of the other files. By accident his finger caught on a paperclip, and on closer inspection, saw that it attached a photo to one of the files. Might as well see what it showed. Cerian pulled it out and raised an eyebrow as he saw who it was.

“Look at this,” he muttered to Olivia, walking over and showing her the file.

She frowned. “Is that Stalin?”

“Looks like it,” Cerian agreed. “Which raises a number of questions.”

“Yeah, like what that…language…is and why he’s keeping a file of a long-dead Soviet,” Olivia added, appraising the file closely. “This is really odd, Cerian. I don’t like it.”

“I’ll keep this one, to see if we can decode it,” Cerian said, shooting a glance towards the door. Olivia was right, everything here _was_ very odd. From the lack of security, sanitized rooms and files of dead dictators, he was getting a bad feeling. He didn’t think it was a trap, Ren would have given some kind of warning, but he didn’t think they should stay longer than necessary.

“Done,” Olivia stated, pulling out the flash drive and closing the laptop. “We’ve got what we needed. Mary can dig through it later.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he agreed, standing up and with the flash drive pocketed, Olivia joined him as they walked out of the room. Everything was still the same, and as they approached the door, he felt they were almost home clear.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Within seconds they had their silenced pistols out and aimed at the old man who was leaning nonchalantly against the far wall. Cerian internally cursed for not looking there when they’d entered. Rookie mistake and he wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten it.

He’d worry about that later. Change of plans.

“Then you shouldn’t have identified yourself as a threat,” Cerian responded, taking a few steps forward. “You have information you shouldn’t have. I needed to know what and how.”

The man smiled. “All you had to do was ask, Cerian. What exactly _do_ you want to know from me? After all, I clearly don’t pose a threat.”

“How you knew about us, for starters,” Olivia growled. “Preferably any other EXALT secrets you have. Though I think we’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

“Ah, yes, your plan for if I showed up here,” the man said knowingly. “Capture, or if not possible, kill. Standard in this line of work.”

“How did you know that?” Cerian demanded icily, stepping forward. No one should have known that outside his team.

“Simple,” the man tapped the side of his head with a finger, smiling. “I read your mind.”

Cerian and Olivia were both silent initially, not quite sure how to react to _that_ answer. “Perhaps you’ll be less in the mood for jokes when we question you,” Olivia muttered. “While funny, we don’t have time to deal with them.”

“I find it somewhat annoying you thinking of me as ‘the man’ or ‘old man’,” he continued, seemingly not hearing her. “You need some name, and it just so happens you’ve heard it. You may call me the Chronicler, a title I wear proudly.”

“Great,” Cerian said. “Well, Mr. Chronicler, we’re taking you in on charges of espionage. Hands up.”

The Chronicler sighed. “I did warn you, but perhaps that was pointless. We humans are not a rational species when it comes to verbal warnings. We need to see proof, consequences, and I suppose that is what you need now, Cerian Irelan. A demonstration.”

Cerian pursed his lips and took a few steps forward when he spotted something that made him freeze and his blood run cold. The Chronicler’s irises were glowing a vibrant purple. What the-

“Drop the gun,” Olivia ordered, raising her pistol at him, her face expressionless and her own irises a lighter purple.

Cerian wasn’t the type to panic or give into fear. He was too well trained for that. But for the first time in years he felt genuinely unsettled and afraid. He’d miscalculated badly. Not that this should have been possible, but it was clear reality didn’t care what he’d presumed. “Olivia…” began quietly. “This isn’t you. He’s making you do this.”

“Oh, she knows,” the Chronicler stated, walking over slowly as Cerian turned to look at him. “She’s trying to fight it, believe me. But she has no defense, and neither do you.” Olivia suddenly pulled the gun away from him and put the barrel under her chin, a tranquil expression on her face.

“Don’t…” Cerian growled at the Chronicler. “Or-“

“Or what?” The Chronicler demanded, raising a hand to catch the pistol which flew from Cerian’s hand. “What exactly _can_ you do here, Cerian?” He gave another smile. “Nothing.”

“Who _are_ you?” Cerian demanded. “ _What_ are you?”

“Human, same as you,” he answered, as he expertly disassembled the pistol. “Just… _enhanced_ , to put it simply. The aliens have found our world before, and they left technology. Technology one young boy might accidentally stumble upon…” he trailed off. “Ah, but that’s ancient history, which _is_ something I know a thing or two about. I’ve seen a lot, Cerian, enough to make some determinations about human nature.”

He dropped the pieces of the pistol on the ground. “EXALT is not perfect, Cerian, far from it. But it is ultimately the best chance for human peace, and I will do whatever to protect it and guide its leaders to avoid the mistakes of history. I will not be remembered, but when humanity is finally united, it will be in part to my actions.”

The purple light faded from his eyes and Olivia stumbled forward with a gasp, tossing the pistol away frantically. “This is your final warning,” the Chronicler stated. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you continue this misguided crusade. The aliens will be coming, and they are the threat. Leave, because the next time I see you will be your last.”

Both of them quickly exited, Olivia breathing rapidly as she almost broke into a run. She slammed the door closed and began pacing frantically. “What the fuck happened to me? Did he…?”

“I think so,” Cerian admitted quietly. “We need to get out of here.”

She was in full agreement and both of them practically ran down the stairs and towards the car, only to skid to a stop once they saw Ren. “No…” Olivia whispered as she looked at his corpse. The pistol was in his hand, and blood was leaking out of his head, both the windshield and windows were splattered with blood.

“A final warning,” Cerian observed, looking sadly at the body, wondering what to do now. “We need to reconsider what to do. Otherwise he’ll just kill all of us.”

“What?” Olivia demanded. “Give up? Let someone like than go free?”

“Of course not,” Cerian scowled. “But we need a plan, and we can’t do it here.”

“Then let’s get back,” Olivia growled. “He’ll die for what he did to me and Ren.”

Cerian certainly hoped that would happen, but someone like the Chronicler would not be easy to deal with, especially if he figured out their plan again. There were some tough decisions to be made, and he wasn’t sure at the moment what the right ones were.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Myra was waiting, right on time. The recruits for the MEC program had arrived and this was something he was going to see to personally. It was unfortunate that Shen hadn’t managed to overcome the loss of personality in the procedure, but until they could dedicate time to solving that, it would have to remain as such. They also sadly had more pressing problems to deal with first.

Although maybe it wasn’t as bad as it could be. Despite being converted months ago, Myra still did seem at least mildly interested in her prosthetics, judging by how she kept looking them over, testing flexibility, strength and just doing things that wouldn’t be possible with an ordinary hand. Such as now the wrist of her left hand being completely turned around.

“Does that hurt?” The Commander asked, walking up. Myra showed no surprise at his voice, simply flicking the wrist back to the natural state and turning to face him, immediately falling into a salute.

“No, Commander,” she answered. “It does not.”

“At ease,” he told her, motioning her to walk down the hallway. She fell into step beside him, her mechanical feet clanging on the ground they walked. She’d abandoned traditional clothing, which made sense since almost every part of her was covered up, barring the head and even that had been modified to an extent.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked neutrally as they walked.

“There are four new candidates for the MEC program,” he answered, glancing to her expressionless face. “Shen has already briefed them on the essentials, but you’ve actually experienced it. I think they could get a better idea of what to expect if you explain it to them.”

“I’ll do my best,” Myra answered tonelessly. “But…it is not something that can really be explained. Not in a way you would understand.”

Getting plugged into a giant MEC suit might be difficult to explain, true. Myra had said as much to Shen before. “I know,” the Commander assured her. “Just do the best you can.”

“Yes, Commander.”

They walked for a few minutes. “How are you doing?” The Commander finally asked. “I haven’t asked for a while. Are the prosthetics still holding up?”

“I am currently fully operational,” Myra answered immediately. “No need to concern yourself, Commander.”

“I know that,” the Commander sighed. “I was asking beyond that. From the sounds of things you’ve been spending almost all of your time in the Cybernetics Lab.”

“I am working,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Only Dr. Shen understands the suit like I do, I am most useful there. I have no need to be anywhere else.”

“You just work on the suit?”

“You take care of your body, Commander,” Myra responded. “I do the same to mine.”

Hmm. The Commander was pretty sure that wasn’t healthy, but then again, he wasn’t sure ordinary human mental issues could be applied to MEC soldiers. Hopefully she’d now have some others to interact with once the new volunteers were converted. They came up to the Cybernetics Lab and the circular door hissed open.

“He is likely by the Ballista-class MEC,” Myra suggested, pointing to the right where the two MECs were stored. Well, well, it looked like it had been just finished.

There was a significant contrast between the Ballista and Marauder-class MECs. For one, the Ballista-class was at least several feet taller and far more armored than the Marauder-class. It was certainly less maneuverable, but given the amount of firepower the machine was packing, that might be an acceptable tradeoff.

Both arms were heavily weaponized. The right one seemed to have a fully-loaded and enhanced rocket launcher and the other looked to be a modified grenade launcher. Both shoulders had a small suite of micro-missiles and attached to the back looked to be a kind of collapsed artillery cannon. Shen certainly had fulfilled his goal of an artillery-focused MEC.

That was the most impressive thing he’d seen so far today, until he looked towards the middle of the room where the majority of construction was taking place. He whistled as he saw what was actually being built. “I didn’t realize Shen started construction on that,” he muttered. Myra looked over to where he was watching and nodded.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “He finished final passes of the Goliath-class several days ago. I’m certain he notified you, by message if nothing else.”

That was actually very likely, but given the hectic past few days it wasn’t a surprise he’d missed it. Shen had probably assumed he’d read it. Not that he’d needed approval anyways. Even from just the outline, he could tell that the Goliath would live up to its name. Whereas the Ballista-class was probably fifteen feet, minimum, the Goliath looked to be nearly twice that.

Right now, the biggest issue he saw was how they were ever going to be able to transport that thing. Well, he'd question Shen on that later. Time to go to him.

The Head Engineer was still talking to the small group, and paused once he saw the Commander and Myra walking up. All the volunteers also turned around, giving the Commander his first good look at them. All of them were combat veterans, with injuries severe enough to be discharged. But it was different reading the injuries and seeing them up close.

Two of them, Franklin and Amahle, from America and South Africa respectively, were in wheelchairs. Franklin had been paralyzed in a crash from an IED when stationed in Israel, and Amahle had been forced to amputate her legs after she’d been shot in both, and had become infected in the dangerous African jungles.

Sanya, the Russian Spetsnaz was missing his right arm, which had been the result of a crime gang using a chainsaw in self-defense. Judging from the scars on his face, it seemed lucky an arm wasn’t the only thing he lost from that encounter.

The only one who was physically ‘whole’ was Duygu, the former Turkish combat engineer. His entire body was covered up, and the Commander knew it was likely to hide the scarring that covered his body. He’d been nearly killed by a flamethrower, burning most of the skin off his body and leaving him unable to feel anything aside from pressure.

“It seems the Commander is here,” Shen said, motioning to him. “I think he’d like to say a few things.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Welcome to XCOM, I am the Commander and wanted to personally greet you and thank you for volunteering for this project.”

He focused his eyes on each of them, seeing nothing but resolve, determination and acceptance. Disabled they may be, but he could tell that didn’t hinder them in the way people expected. Anyone who was here was because they wanted to defend their species in any way they could. That was something most people lacked, but it took a special kind of courage to do this, knowing the likely outcomes.

“Dr. Shen has explained the procedure,” he continued. “You know the risks, you knew them before coming here. Yet you did so anyway, and that is more deserving of commendation than anything you could do. You don’t need me to motivate you more than you already are, all I can do is thank you and assure you that we will drive the aliens off our planet, and you will be helping ensure that happens.”

The Commander stepped back. “Myra has undergone the procedure and will answer any questions as best she can.”

Myra stepped forward and began talking. The Commander was curious what she would say, but before they really started talking, his earpiece buzzed. He pursed his lips and clicked it on. “Yes?” He asked quietly.

 _“Commander,”_ Bradford said. _“Sorry to interrupt, but Vahlen insists you come to her immediately. She’s finished the psionic pod.”_

All annoyance immediately vanished and after a quick farewell to Shen, he quickly turned and moved at a brisk pace to the Research Labs. If Vahlen had managed it…they could start determining psionic soldiers immediately, they might now actually have a chance to recover and prepare much earlier than he’d anticipated.

In what seemed like very little time, he arrived at the Labs and quickly saw where Vahlen was standing. It was in the corner, a very messy corner, with papers, tables and electronic equipment scattered around a black coffin-like pod.

“What do you have?” He asked immediately.

“I’ve successfully determined which brain patterns the sectoid tech awakens,” Vahlen immediately answered, not missing a beat. “Admittedly, that was the easy part. What posed the most trouble was amplifying and ‘pulling’ the psionic power further. Left naturally, it might take weeks to develop into anything significant. With this, I’m confident that we can condense that time to roughly three of four days.”

The Commander smiled. “Excellent. Have you tested it yet?”

She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “No…and I wanted to request something before I do.”

The Commander smirked. “Do you really need to? I trust you.”

“This is a little different,” she continued, oddly subdued. “I’d like to test it on myself.”

The Commander blinked. That he hadn’t been expecting. He’d never really thought about non-soldiers being tested for psionic sensitivity. But he supposed it made sense, and if there was one person, besides Patricia, he could trust with psionic powers, it was Vahlen.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Does that mean you think you’re sensitive?”

“To be determined,” Vahlen said, turning to face him. “I have a theory about the probability of psionic potential, and regardless of my own outcome, I’ll get my answer. Better yet we’ll be able to narrow down the possible soldiers and not waste valuable time.”

“Good to hear,” he said. “What of your other projects?”

“They can continue without me,” Vahlen answered, looking around the busy lab. “By the time I finish, we’ll be ready to start on a new project. We won’t lose anything for a few days.”

“When will you start?” The Commander asked.

“Within the hour,” she answered, with a small smile. “I did anticipate you agreeing to it, but I did want to make sure. Hopefully you’ll manage without me.”

The Commander chuckled. “We’ll see. But it’ll be different, even for a few days.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to distract yourself,” she said lightly, walking up to him, only stopping until a few inches separated them. “You’ll be busy making peace between the Koreans, and figuring out the best way to enhance our soldiers.”

“I can do the first on my own,” the Commander answered, _very_ aware of her proximity. “But the rest I’ll need you for.”

She smiled and looked up at him, placing a warm hand of his chest. “Yes, you will. Wish me luck?”

He wanted to kiss her. The way she was looking up at him half-expectantly indicated that she likely wanted the same thing. All he had to do was do it and acknowledge what they’d been skirting around for awhile now.

It took an enormous amount of self-control, but he held back and gently removed her hand off his chest. “Not here, Moira,” he said quietly. “Not now.”

She looked disappointed, but thankfully not to upset. Puzzlement was what he saw in her eyes. “You’re a mystery sometimes, Commander,” she commented.

“Hopefully not for too much longer,” he told her, serious as he’d ever been. “But not until things calm down.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “Then we talk.”

“We will,” he promised. “And…good luck, Moira.”

She gave a nod. “You as well, Commander. See you in a few days.”

***

_California, United States of America_

“All set up?” Jochern asked grimly as they prepare to put their plan into motion. The first part was going to be the most difficult, and the second just relied on their target following the same schedule as always.

“Of course,” Abby reassured him. “He’ll be coming out in a few minutes. I told him it was important and he’d not miss the chance, especially when I told him it concerned the election.”

“Good bait,” Jochern agreed. “He’ll definitely buy that.”

“No cameras?”

“Took care of them.”

“Good, take your position.”

Jochern went to a shadowed area of the almost empty parking garage. Perfect place for a meeting.

Or an ambush.

Abby sighed as she looked at her watch. Late, which figured. Really, why should she have expected anything other from him? Fortunately she didn’t have to wait much longer and heard his footsteps as he approached. He wore the same business attire as pretty much everyone, though he couldn’t even do that without his own “style.”

Red. That was the color of his suit jacket, and not a subtle, tasteful red either. No, this grabbed the attention of everyone in the vicinity. His brown hair was stylishly combed back and he wore a customary fake smile on his face. He was what she always imagined a con man would look like. Flashy and fake.

“Christine!” He greeted as he approached. “Good to see you!”

She didn’t bother to match his enthusiasm. “Thanks for coming.”

“Well, you’ve been invaluable so far,” he said, clasping his hands together. “What do you have?”

She opened the file she’d been holding. Jochern should be moving now. While Nathan wasn’t a small man, she was fully confident he could be taken down. Worst case, she’d help. “You ever heard of the United America Super-Pac?”

Judging by his immediate change in expression and rapid blinking, she figured he hadn’t been expecting that. “Ah…once or twice.”

“Makes sense,” Abby continued, playing along. “They seem to keep a low profile. But there’s a lot of suspicious activity from them. Maybe something to expose. You have more resources than me, so if anyone could expose this, it’s you.”

Playing to his ego seemed to temper him a bit. “Let me see the file,” he asked, extending a hand. She complied, and he began flipping through it. Probably trying to determine the extent of the damage. “How exactly did-“

He was cut off as Jochern came up behind him and wrapped a thin rope around his neck and pulled. Nathan tried a back swing but it didn’t even get close and a few seconds later, he fell to his knees, unconscious. While Jochern was taking care of him, Abby pulled on her latex gloves and prepared to secure him. They didn’t want to leave any evidence.

“And he’s out,” Jochern said, relieved as he began binding Nathan. “Went pretty smoothly, all things considered.”

Abby grabbed his legs and Jochern grabbed him by his chest and together they threw him into the trunk of their car. Abby grabbed the file and placed a lighter underneath it and let it burn to ash on the parking garage floor. Their first job done, both of them entered the car and quickly drove out of the station parking garage.

“Now let’s hope Amy is home,” Jochern muttered as he glanced back to the trunk. “She’ll probably be easier than him.”

“Not necessarily,” Abby warned. “If she is with EXALT, it’s possible she’d been trained in self-defense.”

“Hmm, true.” He acknowledged as they drove.

Fortunately, Amy lived pretty close to the studio, and within a half-hour they were parked outside her house. Abby grasped the taser and prepared to go talk to her. Jochern would be right behind her in case it failed and she needed his help. Wasn’t as elegant as she’d have liked, but right now efficiency was more important than more convoluted options.

She took a breath after she parked. “Let’s do this.”

She opened the car door and stepped into the evening California air. This was a nice state, a shame she’d be leaving after today. Amy had a pretty nice house, modest, but it made sense since she lived alone, at least according to the intel Zhang had given her. She knocked on the door twice, her latex gloves still on.

The door opened to reveal a somewhat surprised Amy. “Christine?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Abby shook her head. “No, but I felt we should discuss what I have in person.”

Amy frowned. “All right, hold on. This place is a mess-“ the instant she turned around, Abby raised the taser and fired into her back. She let out a small shout and collapsed to the ground, convulsing. She’d set the shock level high enough that is should have knocked her out completely. After turning her onto her back, that did appear to be the case.

She grunted and hoisted Amy’s limp body up, thankful her military strength was still intact enough to pick up a grown woman. Jochern was watching for witnesses and nodded to her that it was safe to move out. She gave a silent nod in return and quickly carried her to the car and threw her body inside the trunk with Nathan.

“All done,” she said as they got back into the car. “Both targets secure.”

“Now comes the hard part,” Jochern muttered as they began driving towards the place where the interrogation was to take place. Fortunately there was no shortage of abandoned buildings and warehouses in the run-down parts of town. In those places, people tended to leave others alone, regardless of what was taking place.

If it got loud, they should be fine. Abby had considered using the small house they’d been in, but had quickly ruled it out since it wasn’t soundproof. Zhang didn’t have any established locations, so they’d eventually decided on an abandoned house a short distance from where they were. Everything was set up, all they needed were the captives.

“I assume no changes to our questioning?” Jochern asked after a few minutes, looking outside into the distance.

“I don’t see a reason to,” Abby answered quietly with a shrug. “They might be more inclined to talk if they’re both in the same room together. You be good cop, I’ll be whatever one is needed.”

“Will you actually go through with it?” Jochern asked, looking back at her, his face expressionless. “If they _don’t_ talk…”

“I’ve seen enough to know when someone genuinely knows something or not,” Abby said quietly. “If they do…I’ll do what I need to. Regardless of what they plead.”

“I hope that they talk,” Jochern muttered.

“Not that it matters much,” Abby pointed out. “They’re going to die, regardless.”

“I know,” he ground out, then shook his head. “We both know where we stand. No need to go over it again.”

She agreed. He’d made his opinion on the whole situation very clear, as had she. They differed and she knew she wasn’t going to change his mind. As long as he did his part, she’d assume responsibility for the rest. Though honestly, she wasn’t sure she actually _could_ hurt them if it came to it. Sure, she’d seen people tortured before, even offered advice when pressed.

But never _performed_ it. Not on her own.

Regardless of necessity, there was a deep part of her that abhorred even considering this. It went against everything she’d been taught by her family and reinforced in med school. _Hurting people is wrong_. That simple statement had been emphasized over and over, a blanket statement with no context.

But the world wasn’t as black and white as she’d been led to believe growing up. Even as an adult there was a basic morality that was mostly followed regardless of who they were. But all that really couldn’t apply to war. Things previously abhorred were used as the norm, or at the very least not frowned upon.

And she understood that, she understood necessity now all too well. But that still didn’t make her feel any better as she pondered what she was about to do.

They pulled into the torn up driveway and quickly got out and removed their captives. Carrying them into the house only took a few more minutes and they began strapping them to the two stretchers set up in what had once been a living room.

In between the stretchers was a portable stand that held everything she needed. Scalpels, hooks, knives and towels. Resting on the ground was a bucket of clear acid. Above the stretchers were twin lights which would help with disorientation and psychological disruption.

Once they were both strapped in securely, they tilted the stretchers so they were mostly vertical. If negotiation failed, they would move them back horizontally. Abby put on her surgeons mask and after making sure it was ready, put it under her chin. She wouldn’t need that quite yet. “Now we wait,” she said, looking at the two captives.

They didn’t have to wait too much longer. Nathan woke up first, blinking and wincing as he tried to look around frantically, clearly wondering where the hell he was. He blinked when he saw Abby and Jochern. “Christine-“

“That’s not my name,” she interrupted neutrally, raising a hand. “I’m with XCOM Intelligence. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“XCOM?” He sputtered. “What is the meaning of this? You can’t just….” He moved his head around, indicating the room. “You can’t just _kidnap_ me!”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “XCOM is charged with protecting humanity, Nathan. If we feel that a threat is posed to it, we will deal with it. So yes, we _can_ kidnap you if needed. There isn’t time to do otherwise.”

“And what exactly are you going to do to me?” He demanded angrily. “How could _I_ somehow pose a threat to humanity? _I’m_ human!”

“I’d advise you watch your tone,” Jochern interrupted. “You don’t want to make her mad. Look, it’s simple. Answer our questions and everything will be fine. We have no interest in innocents here.”

“Fine,” he spat. “Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide.”

“Good,” Abby nodded. “Are you aware of the organization called EXALT?”

Her enhanced eyes caught the slight widening and intake of breath. Interesting. “No.” He stated, and had she not noticed that, she might have even believed him.

“No,” she began quietly, taking a couple steps towards him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m…not!” He insisted weakly, swallowing as she picked up one of the scalpels. “I’m not!”

Abby placed the tip of her scalpel on his jugular, barely applying any pressure. He immediately went still as he felt a warm trickle run down his throat. “You will bleed out within three minutes if I cut here,” she told him quietly. “Let’s be clear, I don’t need you alive. It would be nice, but my primary directive was to deal with the threat. Killing you would accomplish that.”

“Alright! Alright!” He shouted. “Yes! I heard that a few times. But just the name! I swear I don’t know anything about it!”

Abby stepped back and looked at him. He was clearly terrified now, and at this point she didn’t believe he was lying. “It wouldn’t happen to be from that Super-Pac I mentioned earlier, would it?”

He pursed his lips, remaining silent. Jochern shoot her a _let me handle this_ look and she decided to see what he did. “She’s not kidding,” he told Nathan, walking in front of him. “She’ll kill you if you won’t talk, just on principle. I personally prefer not to kill people, makes life more difficult. But you _do_ have to tell the truth. Look, we wouldn’t have brought you here if you were completely innocent to begin with.”

He pulled out a file and held it up. “We know you’ve been receiving money from United America. We have enough evidence to put you in jail for decades on corruption charges alone. Because of you we have the opportunity to shape the entire Republican presidential primary. You’re not innocent here, Nathan. But the only way you _might_ get out of this is if you help us.”

“Ok,” he breathed, hyperventilating. “Ok. But if I talk, you have to promise to let me go. No charges.”

Abby almost audibly snorted at that. He wasn’t in any position to make demands. But it seemed Jochern had gotten through, so she just let him keep going. Jochern pursed his lips. “Letting you go is out of the question, I’m afraid. You’ve broken the law and will be punished accordingly. _However_ ,” he raised a hand. “Your cooperation will be mentioned. You understand how to spin stories, so there is one where you could keep your pride after you serve your time. XCOM has influence, and if we say _you_ came forward to expose this corruption, not only would you serve a far lesser sentence, but you might actually get the public on your side.”

Abby was impressed at how easily and convincingly he told that lie. It played directly to all the things that matters, less consequences, attention, and public approval. “You would actually do that?”

“Provided you don’t lie?” Jochern answered. “Of course.”

“Alright,” Nathan breathed. “Ok, but I don’t know much. They…communicated with me quite a bit, United America, I mean. In the beginning they were just barely hanging on, like they wouldn’t have lasted past the first month if they hadn’t received a bunch of donations from a major anonymous source.”

“Was it anonymous?” Jochern asked.

“To the books, yes,” Nathan answered. “But the donor is actually very well known. You know Matthew Solaris?”

Yes. _This_ was interesting. “I don’t know who hasn’t,” Jochern said incredulously. “Are you saying _he’s_ been funding United America?”

“Pretty much,” Nathan confirmed. “I didn’t hear anything about this ‘EXALT’ until a few months ago. Some of the board members were wondering if Matthew had ties to that organization and asked me to look into it. I did and found nothing. Last I ever heard of it.”

He was telling the truth, she could tell it from his tone, eyes and features. At least he believed he was telling the truth. It added up, Solaris Industries wasn’t going to be found out by one corrupt journalist, but that did seem to raise the question of who EXALT was really backing in the election.

“That’s helpful,” Jochern said. “Thank you. Is Kamili aware of any of this?”

“She doesn’t deal with Super-Pacs on principle,” Nathan disputed, shaking his head. “So no. But even if she doesn’t understand their necessity, others do, but respect her wish to not become involved personally.”

Yeah, after this no way was Kamili the epitome of perfection and incorruption she’d shown to the world. It was looking more and more likely that she was a direct EXALT plant, and if that was the case, action would have to be taken. Both Zhang and the Commander were going to find this useful.

Abby quietly picked up one of her knives from the tray as Jochern prepared to finish. Both of them knew what to do next, and Jochern’s tone audibly became subdued. “Thank you. Is there anything else?”

“That’s all I know,” he insisted. “So what happens now?”

“You cooperated,” Jochern said, looking away. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, thank-“

Abby stabbed him directly under the chin, turning his last words into a gurgle. A few seconds later, he went still, his face frozen in confusion for all time. Abby withdrew the blood-soaked blade and looked down at her hand covered in blood. It had to be done, but she felt sick.

It was the first time she’d ever killed someone for no other reason than they’d seen her face.

Jochern looked at the body numbly. “We shouldn’t have killed him.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly, setting the blade down on the tray. “But at least it wasn’t for nothing.”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But he didn’t deserve to die for it. There were other ways.”

“We had orders,” Abby shrugged, trying not to look at the corpse as she cleaned her hands.

“Fuck orders,” Jochern growled. “That was wrong and you know it.”

Abby spun on him. “Yes it was. But what could we do about it, hm? We _had_ this conversation. Yell at Zhang later if you want, but stop making this harder than it has to be!”

“Yes, sir,” Jochern muttered sarcastically. “Get ready, looks like she’s waking up.”

Abby looked over at Amy who was raising her head groggily. She sighed and prepared for another interrogation. She walked over until she stood in front of the chief editor who blinked rapidly as her vision adjusted. “Christine?”

“Abigail Gertrude, XCOM Intelligence,” she corrected, noting that Amy’s eyes widened at that. Though she could only speculate as to why, it was an interesting reaction.

“XCOM…” Amy murmured in amazement. “What…what do you want from me? I’m not a threat to you.”

“That remains to be seen,” Abby said neutrally. “Answer our questions and we’ll go from there.”

“You know who I am,” Amy warned, growing more aware as she looked around the abandoned house. “They’ll be looking for me if I’m missing for too much longer.” She caught sight of Nathan’s body and the blood drained from her face. “You…”

“You weren’t the only one we suspected,” Abby told her, keeping her voice firm. “We are not concerned with them finding you. Should you refuse to cooperate, the police will find you in your house, having tragically committed suicide while you were under the influence of heroin.”

“They’ll never buy that,” Amy stated. “What you’re doing is illegal. If the press were to learn of this, everything XCOM ever did would be tainted forever.”

Abby’s lips curled up. “No, Amy. They won’t. And frankly, we do not care what the press does or does not think of us. We protect humanity from all threats, human or otherwise. I suspect the press will be more forgiving, should they ever learn of this operation, once they learn we executed two EXALT plants.”

“You think _I’m_ part of EXALT?” She stated incredulously. “ _Me_?”

“I did find it interesting how your station was one of the few to refuse to cover XCOM properly,” Abby continued, looking her in the eyes for any glimmer of falsehood. “It took a few of the papers I submitted to really notice your… _bias_ against them, and to be honest, it makes little sense. Why would you dislike XCOM so much when they’re actively defending Earth?”

“They aren’t trust-“

“Shut up,” Abby growled, rolling her eyes. “Either you’re lying or an idiot. XCOM doesn’t work that way if you haven’t noticed. Or did you miss the evidence they presented that they recovered from EXALT? Or when they proved that video was fake? I don’t believe you’re an idiot, Amy. So then, what _are_ you?”

 “What do you want from me?” Amy hissed, anger in her eyes.

“Are you part of EXALT?”

Amy was silent for a few seconds. “No.” She finally muttered, refusing to look at her.

“Look at me and say it.” Abby ordered.

“No,” Amy growled. “I’m done talking to you.”

Abby sighed and turned to the table and picked up a small curved medical hook. Pulling up her surgeons mask, she turned back to Amy who was looking at her, mouth open as she realized what she was intending. “No…” she whispered. “You wouldn’t…”

“Then answer my questions,” Abby repeated, holding the top of her head still as she placed the tip of the hook over her right eye which was moving frantically in all directions. “Are you working for EXALT?”

 She was still silent. Abby lowered the tip even lower until it was almost scratching the eyeball and that was apparently enough. “All right! Yes! Yes I’m part of them!” Abby drew back her hand and looked at the woman. She was clearly terrified, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. No, it didn’t appear she was lying.

“Thank you,” Abby said, moving again to stand in front of her. “Now we need information. Names, locations, whatever you have.”

“And what do I get?” Amy demanded. “If I help you, EXALT will kill me. There’s nowhere you can take me that they won’t find.”

Abby smiled. “You get to live, Amy, and we’ll take care of you. If EXALT really knows everything, then they would have found our base by now. There are places you can be hidden.”

Amy eyed her warily. “You promise that?”

“Only if you cooperate.”

“Fine,” Amy sighed. “You’ll want to go by my house and pick up my laptop. You’ll find much of the information you’re looking for there. I don’t have anyone under me, though I do have some contacts in the other states.”

“Which ones?” Abby asked.

“Florida, New York, Washington and Iowa,” Amy answered, and provided the names of each contact.

“Who do you report to?” Jochern asked.

“Falka Intelligence Control,” Amy answered wearily. “I don’t know who. I’m pretty sure it’s different each time, but that’s who I get my orders from.”

“EXALT’s Intelligence branch, I assume?”

“More or less,” Amy confirmed. “Though not strictly military. How do you think we’ve been able to exist with no detection whatsoever?”

“Very carefully, I assumed,” Abby commented. “Let’s go back to your superiors.”

They kept questioning her for the next three hours, asking every possible question they could think of. She complied, believing they would protect her. Most of the information they knew about in some form, but was reconfirmed. While quite a lot of it was useless, all of it was fascinating.

Once all the questions were exhausted, Abby nodded at Jochern. “Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll need to put you under for transport, hold still.” She took out an IV and attached it to her arm and prepared the injection. She knew what she had to do, but everything about it felt wrong, especially when this woman had ultimately done everything they’d asked.

Jochern shot her a look of disgust which Amy thankfully missed, but it still stung, because Abby knew that he was right.

But orders were orders.

Abby hadn’t lied to Amy about one thing, she was going to be found dead tomorrow due to an overdose; a lost battle with an addition no one had suspected. But since she’d cooperated, Abby made sure that the heroin overdose she was giving her would be quick and hopefully painless. She didn’t look away as she injected the drug into her, even after she started convulsing.

But a few minutes later it was over and her head fell limply to the side.

Abby stepped back, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

The hard part was done. Zhang would be very happy with them. Now all they needed to do was make it look like an accident.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

It had been an eventful couple of weeks, to say the least.

First the alien spy being captured, interrogated, and…well, Herman assumed he was being held in a very secure location. Under guard at least. Van Doorn had been reluctant to share exact details of the conversation the Commander had had with him, but had provided the cliff notes to deliver to the Council.

Fascinating stuff, especially that on these Ethereals. Van Doorn and he had both agreed that the story told was probably exaggerated in some form, because really, it was a bit of a stretch to believe that _one_ Ethereal could subdue and entire species on his own. Powerful they may be, but not on that scale.

Still, they were probably powerful psions, and couldn’t be taken lightly. But he’d figured they could manage easily enough. After the attack on the alien base, he’d actually been rather optimistic, especially since EXALT appeared to be quieting down. Even better was that with China leaving the Council, they actually seemed to be stepping back and letting the Commander do his own thing, at least according to Tamara.

Of course, that had been _before_ the past few days.

Days which consisted of an encounter with an Ethereal, the Commander breaking every diplomatic protocol and recognizing Taiwan as a country and finally recovering a human psion allegedly from EXALT.

From what Van Doorn described, it did appear that the Ethereals _were_ as powerful as the alien had described. He hadn’t seen the actual footage, but he wasn’t sure he’d wanted to. The Commander had allowed him to review the document describing the incident and it…wasn’t pretty. Every soldier being mind-controlled and forced to kill each other…that was not what he’d expected to be worried about. No wonder the Commander had ordered a refocusing on psionics.

That aside, he couldn’t fathom what the Commander was thinking by going to Taiwan. Oh, he knew, but he was frankly dealing with it terribly. Making China angry wasn’t going to help anything, and if the Commander was crazy enough to recognize Taiwan, Mongolia might be next. If he even _thought_ about Tibet…

It wasn’t the Chinese military he wasn’t worried about now. It seemed that the Commander had forgotten that China was a major economic power, and should they wish to punish XCOM, they could levy sanctions, tariff and taxes on any country allied with them. And since they were so ingrained everywhere, those would have to be followed or risk collapsing entire countries.

Although, that would essentially guarantee a more directed response from XCOM, and Herman was afraid that the Commander would actually start a war if he thought China posed a direct threat. Herman wanted Taiwan as its own country as much as most of the world…but not in a way that threatened to start World War III in the middle of an alien invasion.

Of course, China _knew_ who they were dealing with, and they actually might fear the Commander enough to restrain themselves. He sincerely hoped that was the case. But he couldn’t imagine the Council was happy about this. It set a dangerous precedent, and showed that the Commander wouldn’t tolerate countries he considered treasonous.

Well, at least the operation in France had gone well. Though he wasn’t sure the woman they recovered was entirely stable. At the very least, it showed that alien-EXALT relations were deteriorating. Herman walked through the Hanger doors, wanting to see if one of the engineers had a tool Lily needed.

All went well, and they’d have a working model to show the Commander tomorrow. Lily had insisted on making some final adjustments and asked him to pick up a tool only the hangar engineers had. Since he’d been headed that way, he’d agreed. Afterward Van Doorn had asked to see him. Why, he didn’t know.

To his surprise it looked like one of the skyrangers had just landed and the ramp was coming down. A couple XCOM soldiers he didn’t recognize walked out with a man Herman had never expected to see _here_ of all places. He actually had to do a double take as they walked past, still not believing it. Yeah, he and Van Doorn needed to talk _now_.

He quickly got the tool and almost ran back into the hallways. In fact, he almost ran into Van Doorn as he rounded a corner. Van Doorn was dressed in full military uniform, which he would have found odd had he not just seen that man.

“Herman,” he greeted cordially. “You should be careful while running, especially with that thing.”

Herman had almost forgotten he was carrying the tool in his hand. “Sorry, was a bit distracted. Why the hell is _Supreme Leader Gwan_ here?”

“Ah,” Van Doorn said, clearly not sure how to answer at first. “You saw him.”

“Yeah,” Herman answered. “And it didn’t look like he was a captive. Not that that would be much better.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Van Doorn placated, raising a hand. “He isn’t the only Korean dignitary to be coming. President Chia Seo-jun will be arriving within the hour as well.”

Herman looked at him incredulously. “And just _why_ are the leaders of North and South Korea here? Actually, _how_?”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “Short version as to why; hopefully to bring peace between the two nations. Should that happen I’d imagine both North and South Korea will be allying with XCOM. As to how…well, the Commander insisted on it if North Korea was to become allied with us.”

Herman was stunned. “XCOM has been in contact with _North Korea?_ Are you _insane_? If this got out…”

Van Doorn rubbed his forehead. “And since when has _that_ deterred the Commander? Supreme Leader Gwan actually contacted us and the Commander spoke to him. I can’t say more without approval…but North Korea would be a major alliance. And if he helps ensure a peace between the warring countries…that will likely offset a lot of the fallout.”

“The Council is _not_ going to like being kept out of the loop on this,” Herman muttered. “I’ve tried to keep the focus on the aliens, but keeping secrets like this are incredibly hard to justify.”

“And what would the Council have said?” Van Doorn asked wearily. “Because I don’t see it working out nearly as well as it did if they intervened.”

“So what if the talks fail?” Herman demanded. “Will you still ally with either country?”

“Likely with at least one,” Van Doorn answered. “Though the Commander will make the final call.”

“Then I hope the peace talks work out,” Herman muttered. “Because the Council is going to eviscerate the Commander if he has XCOM ally with North Korea alone.”

“So do I,” Van Doorn sighed. “So do I.”

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

The Commander approached the door once he got notification Samuel and Carmelita were escorting President Seo-jun up to him. He and Iseul had exchanged some words, though he mostly left the Supreme Leader to look over the equipment in the room. He seemed very interested in the holotable. Should everything go as planned, they’d have to meet later to discuss the role of North Korea in the coming invasion.

Oddly enough, he was more concerned that the President would pose the greatest obstacle to any sort of peace. Iseul wasn’t going to compromise or apologize for anything, or likely deny anything to begin with. If the President was looking to get an apology out of him, she was going to be sorely disappointed.

Still, she’d agreed to come in the first place, which couldn’t be dismissed. Though he wondered how much of it was due to curiosity. Both leaders knew the other, of course, but to his knowledge, the only heads of state Iseul had ever met in person were Chinese. XCOM he believed was next, which would make Chia Seo-jun the third world leader to meet the enigmatic man.

Or second, since he wasn’t sure he’d ever count himself as a world leader. _Major influence_. That was probably a better description.

The doors to his office hissed open and in she walked, flanked by Samuel and Carmelita. The Korean woman was half a foot shorter than him, her black hair professionally put up. She wore a simple navy blue professional jacket and matching pants. Both soldiers stayed at the door, saluted and walked away.

The Commander extended a hand to her as she approached confidently. “Madam President, thank you for coming.”

“Appreciated, Commander,” she answered neutrally, her voice deeper than he’d been expecting. “I’m thankful that we’re beginning this. I’m not sure how you convinced the Supreme Leader to also attend, but now I think we can finally make progress on peace.”

“Peace is in everyone’s interests now,” the Commander agreed, feeling more optimistic about how this would go. “We have issues beyond borders that must be dealt with.”

She nodded as they headed to the holotable. “Yes, the aliens. Though you seem to be handling them adequately.”

“XCOM will do what it can,” he warned. “But the fate of the world cannot be won by one organization alone. Even us.” She nodded once in agreement, but didn’t elaborate. As the approached, Iseul looked up and inclined his head towards Chia.

“Madam President,” he said, his voice kept deliberately neutral.

“Supreme Leader,” she responded, just as calmly.

“Introductions aren’t necessary,” the Commander said, going to the end of the holotable, letting them face each other at different sides. “Both of you know of each other, so let’s get to business.”

“In a moment, Commander,” Chia interrupted, not looking at him. “I’m curious. What convinced you to emerge from your seclusion _now,_ Supreme Leader?”

“Because there are more important things to worry about,” Iseul answered calmly, not breaking eye contact with her. “As of right now, our conflict is pointless.”

She snorted. “Were it pointless, neither of us would have engaged in it.”

“No, that’s exactly how I’d characterize it,” the Commander interrupted, making them both look at him. “Both of you were perpetuating a conflict that would never be resolved. Allies on both sides would have never permitted it. Korea is not going to be united this way, and at this point I suspect the war is only continuing because of resentment towards each other.”

Chia bristled. “The citizens of the North deserve better than a dictator. I think a free North is worth achieving.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Iseul commented dryly. “And as one who’s never entered my country. I know you propagate the lie that my citizens are unhappy, but both of us know that isn’t true.”

“How could they, when they’ve never known anything else?” Chia shot back.

“Because they have a purpose, they are beneficial and contribute to their country,” Iseul defended forcefully. “We are a truly united country because of me. I don’t dispute the label you give me, Madam President, but I do dispute the propaganda you feed to your citizens.”

“Then release the citizens that went to investigate your country,” Chia demanded, crossing her arms. “Don’t pretend they don’t exist. My soldiers have died trying to find them.”

“They broke the law,” Iseul stated. “Democracies tolerate fabrication. I do not. They were lying, trying to influence my citizens and turn them against me. An unfettered media is dangerous, Madam President, and as much as you may dispute it, both of us know that the general population is not swayed by facts or logic, but by words and emotions.”

“Assuming your citizens are unintelligent is not a wise idea,” Chia chided.

Iseul smiled. “Even intelligent people can be swayed by emotion, Madam President. I never stated my citizens lacked intelligence. But I do know how they can be swayed. But we differ in how we do so, you use propaganda to tear down others. I use it to improve them.”

“What could you possibly mean by that?” Chia demanded.

“You know what children are shown in our schools?” Iseul asked, the barest hint of amusement in his voice. “Propaganda. Yours, specifically. You can imagine how confused they are since what is depicted isn’t even close to reality. But I think it is essential in making them recognize how much people will lie to fulfill an agenda. It helps increase loyalty, efficiency and pride in their country.”

“You think you can impress me with your indoctrinated children?” Chia stated incredulously.

“All children are indoctrinated by your definition,” Iseul responded. “I’ve read what your schools teach. My nation isn’t exactly painted in an unbiased light.”

“Or maybe that’s what happened and you can’t recognize it,” she shot back. “Facts can’t change, Supreme Leader.”

“Enough,” the Commander interrupted, tired of their arguing. Both of them were clearly not going to back down, and spending several hours debating the pros and cons of both governments would accomplish nothing. “Both of you are not going to change the other’s mind. Recognize that and move on. You can both dislike each other and not fight, which is why we’re here.”

“The Commander has a point,” Iseul agreed. “So my requests are very simple. Refrain from further attacks on my country and I will not retaliate.”

Chia pursed her lips. “Generous.”

“I am not the one provoking this war,” Iseul continued, his voice growing quieter. “I simply respond to your aggression. How _do_ you expect me to respond when you attack my soldiers and cut power to my cities? _Ignore_ you?”

“No.” Chia admitted after a moment. “But I do believe a united Korea free of tyranny is worth fighting for.”

“Madam President,” Iseul answered slowly. “Ultimately, I think we both want the same thing. We both want Korea united. But we differ in who should lead and how. With how things currently are, we should both accept that we will not achieve our goals. I do not want my soldiers to die in a pointless conflict, and I doubt you want that either.”

Chia hesitated. “That is true. And the situation has not changed in the years either.”

“Exactly,” the Commander nodded. “But there is another reason you should end the war.” He motioned to the screen behind them which began playing images of the experiments the sectoids were running in their base.

“What is this?” Chia asked, blinking rapidly as she looked at the horrific images.

“XCOM recently raided an alien base,” the Commander explained. “What you’re seeing is what was found. This is what the aliens will do to us if they succeed. They don’t care about your war. North and South Korea are irrelevant to them. Those countries are simply areas to be conquered, and if you keep fighting each other, this is what ultimately awaits all of us.”

It was admittedly somewhat of an exaggeration, since Nartha _had_ said that the Ethereals would likely try to enhance them. But it would likely involve many more facilities like this for that to happen. Iseul betrayed no emotion, but he wasn’t the one the Commander had to convince. He knew the threat of the aliens, but Chia had to be shown what they would do.

“I think we can both agree this is not in our best interests,” Iseul said, turning to her. “You may despise me if you wish, Madam President. But I believe that we should devote our efforts to preventing this from happening anywhere else.”

Chia gave a small nod. “I believe you are right. At least in this. But if we make peace, I want one thing from you.”

“Which is?” He asked.

“Release any South Korean political prisoners you’re holding.”

He pursed his lips. “On the condition they do not speak to the press or any other media outlet. The exchange would be quick and quiet. Provide them with new identities, but I will not tolerate them spreading more propaganda against me.”

Chia considered that. “We can do what we can, but I cannot guarantee they won’t speak out anyway.”

Iseul simply looked at her. “You have means at your disposal, Madam President. If they refuse to abide, ensure they are silenced. That is my condition.”

Chia scowled, and was lost in thought for a couple minutes before she sighed. “Too much is at stake for ideals. Very well, Supreme Leader, I’ll accept your condition. But all of them. No less.”

“It will be done,” Iseul confirmed with a nod. “After our agreement is formalized publically, I will contact your representatives to begin the transfer.”

“Then I suppose it’s settled,” Chia said, somewhat surprised. “A cessation of hostilities.”

“The end of a conflict continued for decades,” Iseul added. “And the start of a new one.”

“That it is,” Chia said. “Though there are major issues I have with your country, may your own war with the aliens be victorious.” She extended a hand to him, which he took with a firm shake.

“To yours as well, Madam President,” he answered, inclining his head. “I wish nothing less.”

***

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

Nartha suspected something had happened. Not that he’d been able to do much in this cell, but just from listening and thinking about recent events, he got the feeling that there was more going on than he’d thought.

As for what that could be, the possibilities weren’t very good. But at least it had given him time to reflect on his own situation. He was certain he wasn’t going to be executed now, if the Commander had decided that, it would have happened. Which brought up what he _was_ going to be used for. Because he _was_ going to be used in some way, the Commander wouldn’t ignore a resource like him.

The problem Nartha suspected they were trying to work out was how to use him while guaranteeing he wouldn’t turn on them. He had no intention of that, but the Commander was smart enough not to just take his word for it. Frustrating, but understandable. He’d given Zhang all the information he needed on how the Zararch worked, and how to keep maintaining his cover to reduce suspicion.

He wondered if the others knew yet. Shun was probably almost recovered and might not have heard it, but Samuel definitely had at some point, likely just before the attack on the Sectoid Hive. The Commander had to know that people would ask questions, and might have just decided to get it out in the open right away.

He looked up as the door swung open and his guards motioned someone inside. For some reason, Nartha wasn’t as surprised to see Samuel as he probably should have been. He’d have definitely come to see him at least once. He wasn’t just in typical XCOM fatigues, but Nartha could tell from his face and posture that he was already suspicious and defensive.

“Samuel,” he said neutrally, standing up. “I wondered if you’d come.”

“I had to see for myself,” he answered grimly, eyeing the alien closely. “I will say you played your part exceptionally well. I never suspected you weren’t human.”

“It was my job,” Nartha nodded. “I’d be a poor spy if I couldn’t act.”

“Hmm,” he pursed his lips. “Though you couldn’t really help injecting your actual opinions sometimes. All our talks about the aliens, what they were and what we’d do afterwards, what you said makes a lot more sense in context.”

“The casual genocide of my species isn’t something I really support,” Nartha stated firmly. “Nor any species for that matter.”

“Perhaps,” Samuel admitted. “Though I’m not sure it isn’t fitting since your kind wants to wipe us out.”

“No, they don’t,” Nartha sighed. “The Ethereals want you to be assimilated. Your species has potential and will be much more valuable to them alive than wiped out or enslaved.”

“And is that why you betrayed them?” Samuel demanded with a pointed stare. “You didn’t want to see your own species usurped from your position within this hierarchy?”

“You don’t know anything about my species,” Nartha scowled. “Our position is that of tools. I’ve felt that needed to change for some time, but never believed that the Ethereals could be challenged. Now though, humanity might be the one chance to force changes. I don’t want your species to suffer the same fate as mine and be reduced to puppets under the Ethereals.”

Samuel appraised him. “The Commander apparently trusted you enough to keep you alive, so I guess you’re likely telling the truth. If that’s the case…how do you kill an Ethereal?”

Nartha raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea. Each one is unique as far as I know. They don’t hold the same strengths and weaknesses, if they have any to begin with. The only ones who could even have a chance are psions of similar strength…” he trailed off as several possibilities came to him. “One is here, isn’t it?”

Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded picture, walked over and handed it to Nartha who opened it with dread. “It certainly seems to be one,” he continued as Nartha looked it over. “It presumably wiped out the entire city, as well as everyone we sent to investigate.”

“I warned the Commander what they could do,” Nartha scowled as he looked the picture over.

“We didn’t know it was an Ethereal until they made visual contact,” Samuel defended. “But still, I didn’t think death on that scale was possible with only _one_ Ethereal.”

“It only takes one to subdue a species,” Nartha muttered, letting his hand fall to his side. “It appears this is the one chosen.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“No.”

“Shame,” Samuel sighed. “Guess we’ll have to kill it the old-fashioned way.”

“That won’t work,” Nartha warned. “Not with Ethereals.”

“Then I guess we’ll use our small group of psionics to supplement them,” Samuel amended with a shrug. “Nothing is invincible. Not even Ethereals.”

“I hope you succeed,” Nartha said, sitting back down. “But XCOM needs to figure out a way to kill them. If not, they’ve already lost.”

“I’ll be sure and mention that sound bit of advice to the Commander,” Samuel muttered sarcastically. “Well, this was an interesting talk, but I have things to do now. Goodbye, Soran.”

“Nartha,” he corrected. “That’s my real name. May I ask something?”

Samuel paused at the door. “What?”

“How is Shun doing?”

“Almost recovered,” he answered neutrally. “She knows, and I think she’ll be coming to see you soon.”

Nartha smiled. “Tell her thanks when you see her. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll do that,” Samuel promised, then left the cell, leaving him alone once more.

***

_The Citadel, Medical Ward_

“I’m not sure how long this will take,” Patricia told Harkin as she gently moved the bed holding Creed slightly to the side. “Probably a few hours.”

“So what happens if it works?” He asked, trepidation clearly on his face as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Patricia shrugged. “He wakes up.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Patricia pursed her lips as she looked at Creed’s sleeping face. “Either nothing changes or he’ll be gone for good.”

“Ah,” Harkin said, looking at her with a degree of sympathy. “I’ll be sure no one disturbs you, Psion. Good luck.”

“Appreciated,” she responded automatically. Sensing that he was more worried she was going to do more harm than good with this. But she didn’t feel like she had a choice. Creed felt the exact same as the last time. Angry, scared and high-strung. That couldn’t continue indefinitely without _some_ consequences.

She heard the door close behind her and picked up her chair and set it at the end of the bed. She sat herself down and with some hesitation, placed her hands on the sides of Creed’s face. He felt feverish and hot, not good signs. This wasn’t entirely necessary, but having a tactile sensation would help her focus directly on the mind she wanted to target, and she didn’t need to make it harder on herself.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and let all the physical sensations of the world fade.

It was initially darkness, but that always happened. Voices surrounded her, shouts and screams intermixed with them, but it wasn’t hard to locate Creed’s mind since it was the closest proximity and emitting…well, there wasn’t a word to describe it. But it…outshone the other minds around it.

She focused in on it, absorbing that reality as her own and suddenly found herself standing alone in an empty black space. She’d entered his mind, at least the initial portions. But unlike last time there was nothing, at least at first.

There was a distortion right in front of her, barely visible, but she walked forward and tentatively reached toward it. She refrained from touching it at the last instant, not sure what she wanted from it. Instead she focused on the disturbance and sensed…pain. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.

She looked around, trying to see if there were similar distortions. Seeing none, she tried sensing for anything unusual and found nothing. Looked like the only way forward was ahead. She took a breath and stepped into it, and felt an awful sensation of freefall for a few moments.

Then landed inside a kitchen.

It wasn’t a big one. Slightly larger than the one she’d had when she’d briefly owned a house in London. There was an island in the middle, while a sink, dishwasher and counters ran across the back of the wall. There were two entrances, one which seemed to come from a living room, and another to the left which lead into what she presumed was another room.

It wasn’t that clean either. Unwashed dishes had piled up on the sink and counters. Half-eaten food rested on the kitchen table which was in the right corner, and none of the counters looked wiped down; flour, rice, drying vegetables all strewn about. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, florescent bulbs bathing the kitchen in harsh white light, only adding a starkness to the scene in front of her.

There were two people, a woman and a boy. The woman looked awful, her brown hair was unkempt and clothes dirty and stained with what looked like green paint. Her skin seemed a much starker white from the lighting, and her features were contorted in fury as she towered over the boy.

The boy himself couldn’t have been older than eight, with short black hair and slightly tanned skin. He was holding a small paintbrush dabbed in green, which Patricia assumed was the source of the woman’s paint stains. Right now he seemed terrified and that was also when Patricia noticed the most alarming thing about the whole scenario.

She was holding a kitchen knife.

Patricia realized that she’d processed this within nanoseconds, since time didn’t exactly work the same here, and once she knew every detail in the room, both started moving as if someone pressed play on a video.

“Look what you did,” the woman growled advancing on the boy. “What did I _tell_ you about your projects?”

“I’m sorry!” The boy stammered, his voice tiny compared to the towering woman. “I didn’t try to do it!”

“This is the third time this has happened,” the woman stated, brandishing her knife. “You know the rule of thirds.”

“No, Mom, please!” The boy pleaded, openly crying now. “It won’t happen again!”

“No excuses!” She said, grabbing his arm roughly and rolling up the sleeve, revealing four thin scars, all conveniently concealed under the sleeve from where anyone could see them. It took all of her self-control not to do _something,_ but she knew this wasn’t real and she couldn’t affect the outcome.

The mother slowly lowered a blade, a dark satisfaction in her eyes. But before she could do anything a very large, and very angry Creed stormed into the room, immediately attracting her attention.

“Go to your room, Anius!” She shouted, seemingly not intimidated by the much larger figure. He was wearing the same XCOM gear from the alien base, minus the helmet. A dark fury of his own blazed in his eyes as he drew his own knife.

“No,” Creed growled, advancing on her. “I won’t let you hurt us again.” The mother turned to face him, when Creed struck with lightning speed and knocked the knife out of her hand and stabbing upwards, burying his knife in the woman’s neck. “ _Never again._ ” He repeated, as she choked on her own blood which coated his own hand. He never broke eye contact, and stared unblinkingly into her eyes until she presumably died.

He let her body fall to the floor, knife still sticking out of her throat, and knelt in front of the boy and pulled him into a hug, relief and care etched on his face. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Then everything flashed and it was as if that entire scene hadn’t taken place.

“Look what you did,” the woman growled advancing on the boy. “What did I _tell_ you about your projects?”

Patricia suddenly got an idea of what was going on.

Her suspicion was confirmed when the scene played out exactly the same, only the method by which Creed killed who she presumed was his mother was different. This time she tried to fight back and he snapped her neck, went over to the boy and said the same words and the scene reset exactly as it had been from the beginning.

Ok, time to try and figure this out. She waiting until Creed entered the room and willed the memory to freeze. She assumed this was a memory at least. Well, not quite, something must have been altered. She walked around the frozen figures, trying to piece this together. Based on the context of what the woman had said, Patricia believed that this particular memory had occurred when he was much younger, and wasn’t an adult either.

She also doubted he’d actually killed his mother…though if his eyes, features and actions were any indication, he’d certainly have tried if given the opportunity. This also confirmed a suspicion she’d had about him that she’d hoped wasn’t true. She couldn’t say she was completely surprised to learn he’d been abused as a child, but he didn’t really…act like it, for lack of a better word.

It was insensitive, but had she not known him as well as she did, she’d have never suspected this. He seemed too normal, too well-adjusted. If she managed to break him out of this, she wondered how he’d react when he knew what she saw. Not that it mattered, she still had to fix this first.

That boy his mother was threatening must have been his brother. He looked a little like how she imagined a young Creed would look, but she could definitely tell he was related to the mother. The father must have been of Asian descent, and Creed inherited his father’s genes since he looked almost nothing like the woman before her. Unless he’d been adopted, of course.

She pursed her lips at that thought, looking between the frozen figures. He and the boy were clearly related, no question about that. So it might be possible they were part of the American foster care system. She’d heard some stories about kids being abused in the system, so that might account for this…

She allowed the scene to continue as normal and this time Creed simply pulled out his pistol and blew her brains out. She paused the scene again just after he’d done it and focused on his face. No question about it. This was vengeance for him. Revenge of potentially years of torment, not just for him, but likely for his brother too. There was no remorse, no guilt, only satisfaction and fury.

She let the scene finish and it reset completely a few seconds later. She paused it immediately and began pacing the room, ticking off what she knew about how this was set up.

One: Creed was trapped in this memory, which seemed to end soon after he killed his mother.

Two: She was invisible. At least that’s what she assumed. No one had acknowledged her and she’d been in plain sight. Yeah, no way they could have missed her.

Three: This memory was heavily altered in some way from the original, and she felt that was key to breaking him out of it.

Four: Creed was unbalanced here. Fury, anger and fear were all present, practically saturating the memory itself from their intensity, which she also suspected tied into keeping him here.

Alright. She’d seen it, not to see if she could influence it somehow. First test, to see if his mother dying was tied to the memory resetting. She let the scene play out like normal until Creed began attacking her. He pulled out a pistol again and fired several gauss rounds at her. But this time Patricia, using her control over the dream, made the bullets miss.

Both he and his mother seemed surprised. Creed scowled and fired again, and Patricia once more made his bullets bounce off into the walls and cabinets. He finally gave up, flipped the pistol in his hand and stormed up to his mother and smacked her in the face with it. Patricia paused the scene, trying to think if she should delay further…no, this had gone on longer than the last times and watched as Creed slammed the butt of the pistol into her head over and over again until a bloody mess remained.

Once that was done, he went over to his brother and comforted him as usual.

The scene reset.

Ok, that was very useful. One more time would confirm her theory and then she could move on. She paused the scene and simply clenched her fist, directing it at Creed’s mother. Her head exploded and the corpse fell to the ground. Creed came in right on cue, and looked down in confusion at the headless body, then looked around briefly-

The scene reset.

Patricia paused it and assessed her options now. So his mother dying was tied to this, and now she had an idea of what to do. Her working theory was that the memory had to play out exactly as it had happened in real life. Now the question was what rules the Hive Commander had attached to make that happen.

There must have been some trigger to end it, and it couldn’t be too far from the point where his mother died. But it seemed there needed to be more than simply his mother surviving for it to end, else it would have ended after she’d prevented Creed from killing her over and over. Unfortunately, the only person who knew how this was actually supposed to play out was Creed, and he wasn’t in the correct frame of mind.

Everything he was feeling now was likely what he’d felt back then, but now he could do something about it. The Hive Commander had taken advantage of his abuse perfectly, creating a scenario where he’d willingly trap himself in a loop again and again without ever knowing it. And each time he’d repeat it with the same fury and intensity as the first time. He wouldn’t escape without help, and luckily, she was here.

Time to save him.

Right. First she needed to see if she could make herself visible. Once the scene reset, she focused on making herself tangible and to her surprise _felt_ like she was a more tactile part of the world. It actually felt like she was standing on solid ground instead of…well, whatever she’d been on before.

“Look what you did,” the mother growled advancing on the boy. “What did I _tell_ you about your projects?”

Time to see how well it worked. “Stop.” She stated coldly.

Creed’s mother spun around, brandishing her knife. “Who are _you_ and how did you get here?”

Good, she could see her. This might work. “Step away from him,” Patricia ordered, stepping forward. She saw Creed in the background. Time to see if the second part of her plan would work. She focused on freezing the memory for both him and his brother, leaving herself and his mother to still move.

“Get out of here now,” his mother hissed. “Else I’ll tell the cops _you’re_ the one who hurt him.” Patricia glanced behind her to see Creed frozen just entering the kitchen. She smiled. Perfect. She knew what to do now.

“Give me that,” Patricia said, raising her hand and willing the knife to fly to her hand, the hilt landing snugly in her palm. The mother’s expression suddenly turned to worry.

“How-“ She began when Patricia raised a fist and clenched, making her head explode in a shower of red again. She unfroze time, let herself become invisible again and let the scene reset.

Ok, now she knew what to do. Keeping time frozen, she left the kitchen to go look for where Creed was. She entered a small living room, with a small scratched wooden table with some old couches around it. The house had a second story, and Creed was coming down the stairs, looking like a man on a mission.

She took a breath and carefully unfroze time for him and he continued storming down, slowing down in surprise when he saw her. “Who…” he began, then trailed off, cocking his head as he looked at her. “I know you.” He said after a few moments. “I don’t know where, but I know you.”

Ok, she could work with that. “Patricia,” she told him. “Remember me? Patricia Trask. We’re both part of XCOM.”

He shook his head, scowling. “We’ll figure this out later, move aside.”

“No,” she shook her head, stepping in front of him, sadness washing over her as he looked at her in a way she’d never seen before. Angrily. “You can’t…”

“She’s going to kill him,” Creed growled, stepping forward. “This time I’m going to do something about it.”

“No, you’re not!” She shouted, taking a step towards him defiantly. “ _This isn’t real_. This has already _happened_. If you go in there and kill her, you’ll just be trapping yourself here.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” He demanded. “I assure you, _Patricia Trask_ , this is _very_ real, and if you don’t step aside, I’m going to hurt you.”

“Think!” She insisted. “Look around you! Look at what you’re _wearing_. Look at how long we’ve been talking and nothing has happened! You’re too focused on vengeance to notice how much doesn’t add up.”

“Vengeance?” He hissed, eyes blazing. “You have _no_ idea what she’s put us through. No one else will give us _justice_ , so I will deal with that myself.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Patricia argued. “I saw what she’d done to you and your brother. It’s horrific, but think! How old are you?”

“Twelve…” he paused and frowned. “No, that can’t be right…” He looked down, presumably for the first time at his XCOM armor. “What even is this?”

“Your armor,” Patricia said, tapping her own. “XCOM issue. We’ve been serving together for months. But the point is that you’ve done this before dozens of times.”

He scowled, beginning to pace, rubbing his forehead. “Let’s say I believe you,” he muttered. “What do I do?”

“You enter the kitchen,” Patricia explained. “Your mother spots you and says, ‘Go to your room, Anius.’ You respond with “No. I won’t let you hurt us again.’ Then you kill her. The method is different, but you always kill her, some ways more violent than others.”

“I’ve heard that before,” he muttered. “She said that once. Then I…” He trailed off and looked at her, and she realized he’d gotten it. “If this isn’t real, then how am I here? How are _you_ here?”

She wondered how practical it would be to explain everything to him. “You were placed here by a powerful enemy. I want to help you break free. You’re in a coma now, and once you wake up, you’ll remember everything, I promise. But you have to trust me.”

He appraised her, suspicion gone. “I do,” he answered slowly. “I don’t know why, but I trust you with my life.”

It was odd hearing him state it so bluntly. She’d always gotten that impression, but never that he felt that strongly. But couldn’t really ignore that it was good to hear him say it out loud. “Then here’s what you need to do,” she said, swallowing. “Finish this exactly as you remember it. No matter how tempting it is, don’t kill her. Don’t change anything. Let it happen and it’ll end and you’ll be free.”

He looked apprehensively over to the kitchen. “Why hasn’t anything happened yet?”

“I’m pausing the memory for the moment,” she answered. “To give me time to explain this to you.”

“I should probably be surprised at that,” he noted. “But I’m not. Curious. But I know what I have to do.”

She nodded. “I’ll be watching, don’t you worry.”

He hesitated. “What happens if I can’t do it?”

She shrugged. “Then the memory resets and I try this again.”

“How many times would you do it?” He asked, turning to face her fully.

She looked him in the eye. “As many as it took. I’m not leaving you here.”

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “May I ask you something…Patricia?”

“Sure,”

He looked at her a bit before answering. “Just who am I to you?”

“A friend,” she answered quietly after a few seconds. “A very close one.”

“Ah,” he looked towards the kitchen, a slight smile on his face. “That makes sense.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What did you think, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He paused some before answering. “My wife,” he answered simply. “Don’t ask me to explain why. It’s just a feeling. But I know I don’t trust easily, if at all, but you I do. Completely. Don’t know anyone who’d even be remotely like that outside of family,” he shrugged. “Take that for what you will.”

Patricia wasn’t sure what to say. Even in this dream state, the implications at least warranted _some_ looking into, and she’d likely have to press him herself since it seemed he was keeping some of his personal feelings towards her a secret. But if he was….well, she was annoyed he hadn’t said anything to begin with and kicking herself since she was normally good at picking up on these things. Men were highly unsubtle about them as well, but she supposed if anyone could keep his feelings hidden outward, it’d be him.

But she needed to free him from here first.

“Thanks for telling me,” she told him. “You ready.”

He nodded. “I am. Nod when it’s time.”

Patricia walked back over to the kitchen, nodded to Creed, and unfroze time.

“Look what you did,” Creed’s mother growled, advancing on his brother. “What did I _tell_ you about your projects?”

“I’m sorry!” He stammered, his voice tiny compared to the towering woman. “I didn’t try to do it!”

“This is the third time this has happened,” his mother stated, brandishing her knife. “You know the rule of thirds.”

“No, Mom, please!” His brother pleaded, openly crying now. “It won’t happen again!”

“No excuses!” She said, grabbing his arm roughly and rolling up the sleeve, revealing the four thin scars. As his mother slowly lowered a blade, Creed entered the kitchen, his previous anger gone, replaced by calm and resignation. Still, his mother noticed and turned to him.

“Go to your room, Anius!” She shouted.

“Don’t hurt him, mother,” Creed insisted, stepping forward. “It’s not his fault. I’m the one who gave the paint to him.”

“I should have known,” his mother seethed, turning her anger onto him. “You are still a troublesome child, always have been. You don’t care about the sacrifices I make for you, no! Instead you try and make my life a living hell!” She saw him wince, but stare at her stoically as she approached him. “You need to be taught a lesson,” she hissed, pointing the knife at him. “You need to be punished.”

Patricia looked over to see that Creed’s brother had fled the room, which was what she assumed had been the intention from the beginning. She wasn’t surprised this was what he’d done, it was just how he was. A protector. He pulled the sleeves off his armor to bare his arm while his mother held the blade over the toned skin.

“One won’t be enough,” she said, eyeing the arm. “I think three is sufficient for the trouble and pain you’ve caused me.”

“Go ahead, mother,” he said. “Do it.”

Patricia could see and feel him resisting the urge to break this, pull out his own knife and plunge it into her throat. It would be so easy…she was nothing against him. He winced as the knife cut the first time. She allowed herself to become visible behind his mother, to reassure him that she was there and watching.

She gave a small nod and she could tell he could see her.

Two cuts.

Almost done. He was trying to hold back, but each moment with this monster of a woman was pushing it. Just a little longer…

Three cuts.

Everything went dark.

Patricia found herself in her own body, blinking against the harsh lights of the Medical Ward. She focused on Creed, who was also moving his head around, wincing as the light pierced his eyes. He looked over drearily. “Patricia?”

“Hey, don’t move too much,” she warned, keeping her hopes down. “What was the last thing you remember?”

“The Hive Commander…” he managed, wincing as he tried to recall. “Then…something. You were there, I think…”

Patricia smiled and sighed in relief. He was back. “Shh,” she told him, resting a hand on his forehead and gently stroking his hair back. “Just rest and think. It’ll come to you, it’s going to be alright now.”

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

Things were stabilizing now, and just in time too. The Commander leaned back in his chair and took a brief moment to rest. It had been a rather eventful couple of days. There would be new MEC pilots soon, the Koreas had agreed to a truce and it seemed Patricia had managed to break Creed out of whatever he’d been in.

Vahlen would also be out in a day or so. It would be interesting if she was psionically sensitive, but that could only help them in his opinion. He’d have to test himself as well. More tools and methods at his disposal was never bad, and the possibility that he could utilize quite possibly the most powerful forces in the world was one he couldn’t ignore.

In the meantime-

He looked behind him as he heard that EXALT holocommunicator beeping. He frowned and stood up. Odd. He’d had that hooked up soon after they’d raided it from the Mercado Estate, though hadn’t expected to use it for a while since no one other than EXALT really possessed the technology to utilize it.

So that either meant it worked with traditional broadcasts, or someone from EXALT was trying to contact him. He walked over to the console and opened the screen. He knew some basic functions, but hadn’t really devoted much time to figuring it out. The important parts were that he could send, receive and analyze calls.

He blinked as he looked at the broadcast number. How cute. He wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence or not, but that frequency had been one of the ones he’d used back during the War on Terror. Knowing EXALT, they might know who he was and were trying to unsettle him before talking.

They were going to be sorely disappointed if that was the case. But it was interesting EXALT seemed to be calling. He might as well see what they wanted. It was going to be exceptionally awkward if they actually _wanted_ a truce seeing as how he’d ordered Zhang to interrogate and kill quite a few of their number.

He accepted the call and the holocommunicator flashed to reveal a person he’d never expected to see alive again.

Ethan Delger stood in front of him, wearing a suit of all things. He was clearly older, but there was no way it could have been anyone else. He stood in a firm stance, hands clasped behind his back clearly not surprised to see him. _“Hello, Commander,”_ he greeted. _“It’s been awhile.”_

He was legitimately surprised. This shouldn’t have been possible. He been sure to look into everyone on his old team and _all_ of them had been executed. There were autopsy report, bodies, even videos.

“Ethan….” He began slowly. “I…thought you were dead.”

 _“I can say the same thing about you,”_ he answered, smirking slightly. _“Though I was more surprised that not only were you still alive, you were also in charge of XCOM.”_

“This doesn’t make sense,” the Commander scowled, trying to figure it out. “I investigated if anyone was still alive after I was given command. No one, including you, was alive.”

 _“Don’t beat yourself up over it,”_ Ethan shook his head. _“If you’d somehow found out any of us were alive, there would have been bigger issues for us.”_

“How?” The Commander demanded. “Did the UN not kill you either?”

 _“Oh no,”_ Ethan answered darkly. _“Trust me, the Iranians were very keen on executing me. No, I was rescued. A lot of us were, in fact. If you hadn’t had your own personal guard, they’d have attempted it with you.”_

“Who rescued you?” He asked, trying to figure out who would have the resources or motive to do so.

Ethan hesitated. _“EXALT did.”_

The Commander blinked. “ _What_?”

 _“I know,”_ he quickly forestalled. _“I know how it sounds, especially with…this situation. But what we did impressed them enough to expend a lot to rescue us. We’ve been part of it ever since.”_

“You’re working with them,” the Commander repeated numbly. “You even ask who they were? Do you _know_? Controlling the world was _never_ something we wanted. We _hunted_ people like EXALT.”

 _“And look where that got us,”_ Ethan stated, taking a step towards him. _“We destroyed a threat to the world, and in return they decided to kill us. EXALT is not like those tyrants we executed. They have a vision and goal that I believe in. The world is broken, you realized this first and did something about it.”_

“I wanted to _fix_ the problem,” the Commander protested. “I never wanted power, nor did I want to world to suddenly conform to be like me.”

 _“But it should,”_ Ethan pushed. _“And that is why I first decided to stay. They understand necessity. They understand what must be done. The world will never change unless forced, and EXALT is going to be that force.”_

“And what a brilliant force that is,” the Commander pointed out sarcastically. “Allying with the _aliens_. You’re a _traitor_ , Ethan. You cannot _justify_ that!”

 _“Allying with the aliens was a mistake,”_ Ethan nodded. _“But we believed they could be used. We also didn’t know you were in charge of XCOM. To me it seemed like nothing but another UN puppet, and just another obstacle in our way.”_

“So what now?” The Commander asked after a few seconds. “Why contact me? You think that will convince me not to take down EXALT?”

 _“No,”_ Ethan shook his head. _“I know your answer to that. But I thought we needed to talk. To explain. EXALT is not the threat you make us to be.”_

“Tell that to my dead soldiers.”

 _“By my count more of our own are dead,”_ Ethan stated neutrally. _“But things have changed now. I can guess what you’re plan is now: unite the world against the aliens, correct?”_

“That will be needed,” the Commander said slowly. “And I have a plan.”

 _“You always do,”_ he agreed with a nod. _“But by the time you unite the world your way, it might be too late. You’ll need everyone you can.”_

“Like I said,” the Commander repeated. “I have a plan.”

 _“As do we,”_ Ethan said. _“But when the time is right…EXALT will move against the aliens. It was planned from the beginning, and will come sooner than later.”_

“And what do you expect me to do?” The Commander asked. “Work with you?”

 _“I would prefer you not turn down help if it presents itself,”_ Ethan amended slowly. _“Our position is precarious. The aliens are becoming more involved. Should things go wrong, there might not be an EXALT left. But we are not traitors, Commander, we never were.”_

He was silent for a moment. “Or you could leave,” the Commander suggested finally. “Whatever debt you had with EXALT has been paid. I could use you in XCOM, you could fight for the right side. I could use all of you.”

 _“No,”_ Ethan stated flatly, the intensity of it surprising him. _“I’m not the same man I was, Commander. I have a family, I have a wife and son. I will not abandon them because you asked me to, and neither will the rest of them.”_

The Commander blinked. “How did you manage _that_?” He asked, not sure why he’d felt the need to have _that_ question answered first. Although it was warranted since Ethan had been notoriously awful with women. Either he’d gotten a lot better or he’d found a woman who had the same personality as him.

Ethan seemed to remember that as well, judging from his small smile. _“A lot of it was by accident, if I’m being honest. But things fell into place very quickly and I wouldn’t really want it any other way.”_

The Commander sighed. “And who is the woman with that dubious achievement?”

 _“You’ve met her, actually,”_ Ethan answered, slightly amused. _“I believe you threatened to kill her too if I recall correctly.”_

Again, the Commander was surprised. “You’re married to the _Director of EXALT?”_ He asked in disbelief.

 _“Yes, Saudia,”_ he answered happily. _“She only wants what’s best for humanity, Commander. She believes EXALT is the means by which that can be achieved. It isn’t just about power for her, she’s doing what she believes is right.”_

The Commander rubbed his forehead, trying to process everything that was being said. This had changed things, and he wasn’t sure what the best thing to do was. He didn’t think Ethan was lying or trying to trick him. He knew that would only backfire in the future, but he wasn’t exactly an unbiased person in this either. Married to the most powerful woman in EXALT…no wonder he seemed to completely believe everything he was saying. Which in a way was validating, since at that level, he likely knew the inner workings extensively.

And Ethan was right. He was going to need everyone when the invasion finally came…and if EXALT was around…well, they might just end up being useful. He supposed it depended on what EXALT planned to do now. “So are you saying you’re not going to continue this war between us?” The Commander finally asked.

 _“Not at present,”_ Ethan confirmed. _“It’s pointless for both of us. We’re both on the same side now, like it or not. If anyone can ensure we push back the aliens, it will be you and Saudia.”_

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “You really trust her that much?”

 _“With my life,”_ he answered firmly.

The Commander thought for a minute, and an idea dawned on him that might have just solved one particular problem in the Directive. “Do you trust me?” He asked Ethan.

 _“Yes, I do,”_ he said.

“Then I need you to do something for me,” he said, stepping forward. “Is there a file on Saudia? Extensively detailed?”

 _“Yes…”_ Ethan answered slowly. _“Everyone has one. Why?”_

“I need you to send it to me.”

_“Why?”_

“I can’t tell you,” the Commander shook his head. “Not yet. But I can promise I won’t use it against her or EXALT. But I need to know what she’s done and is capable of.”

 _“And what could you possibly get out of that if not to use it against her?”_ Ethan demanded incredulously.

“Please,” the Commander insisted. “I keep my promises. You know that. But the future of the world could hang on this. I don’t say that lightly.”

Ethan was silent for a moment, then sighed. _“You’d better keep your word,”_ he warned, picking up a tablet and typing on it. _“Otherwise I’m going to hunt you down, Commander or no. You should be receiving it now.”_

The Commander looked down at the console and saw that a large file had just been sent to him. He quickly downloaded it onto his tablet and nodded at Ethan. “Thank you.”

 _“I’m not sure we’ll get a chance to talk again,”_ Ethan said. _“But I’m glad we spoke. Regardless of what’s happened, I’m glad you’re still alive.”_

“As am I,” the Commander agreed, and formed his hand into a fist and gave the salute they’d used all those years ago. “Good luck, Ethan.”

He returned the salute. _“You as well, Commander. Remember what I said.”_

Then he ended the call, leaving the Commander alone. He stood there for a few moments, more questions he wished he could have asked popping up. But that time had passed and he needed to move on to the future. He walked back to his desk and sat down.

Once he was comfortable, he lifted his tablet, and opened up the file of Saudia Vyandar, Director of EXALT.


	36. Terror Attack: United States of America

 

_The Citadel, Practice Range_

Patricia had been slightly surprised to hear that Creed had been discharged so soon. Last she’d heard, they wanted to keep him for a couple more days to ensure that he was completely functional and there weren’t any surprise side effects. Although from the sounds of it, he wasn’t going to be deployed on any missions for some time yet. Maybe. She had the feeling that he’d insist if it became an issue.

Well, in that case she had a pretty good idea of where he’d be, even if she hadn’t been able to sense his exact position. The first place he’d probably head was either the practice range or training area. But since she could sense where he was, she knew he was at the practice range from proximity alone.

Going into his mind that intrusively had created some unintentional side effects. A… _connection_ felt like the wrong word, but it was to the point where she could sense his mind immediately as if he was standing right in front of her, no proximity needed whatsoever. It was more intense when they were close too; she prevented herself from sensing his exact thoughts…but just from his emotions, gestures, and the hundreds of things that ran through his mind all at once, she could almost always predict what he was going to do or say.

She’d deliberately avoided talking about what she’d seen, which had been helped by her being busy helping the Commander in her new role, which of late had been overviewing additional soldiers to be recruited. After that had been reading on all the essential documents, and she wasn’t surprised that the hidden Internal Council documents were just as brutally straightforward as the ones released to the soldiers.

She was equal parts fascinated and disturbed to have learned just how _directed_ this war was, and none of the soldiers knew about it. After reading the Hades Contingency, it hadn’t taken long to link together what had happened in Germany. There was a propaganda war being waged against all sides that no one outside of a few people knew about, and that was why it was working.

The Commander was smart enough not to _lie_ to his soldiers, which he’d told her he wouldn’t do. But instead he just never gave any indication that his more questionable orders existed. She suspected that he was preparing for the Hephaestus and Demeter Contingencies and that made her…concerned. He was expecting a full invasion, and if the situation didn’t change, she was wondering if he’d really go through with them.

She snorted to herself as she walked. What a question. Of course he would. He hadn’t told any of them, but she could see the signs easily enough. Germany, Israel, Russia, Taiwan, Mongolia, and likely soon to be ASEAN and Turkey. He was moving towards something big, something that was going to affect the entire world, and she didn’t see how he could do anything without starting another World War. The situation was too precarious.

Israel had a plan to subjugate the Middle East, China was mobilizing their military, North and South Korea had a tense peace at best, Brazil was now facing a full military coup, Russia was just waiting for the chance to annex their neighbors and United States was beginning to start their own secret projects. All it took was one of those to fall apart for all hell to break loose.

She shook her head. All these contingencies, protocols, worst-case scenarios and more were almost overwhelming at times. She was just glad that the biggest thing she had to do now was review and revise the part of the Atlas Protocol dealing with the military personnel. She cleared her mind of the distracting thoughts as she approached the door and entered.

Creed was currently shooting at a variety of moving targets, his gauss rifle never seeming to stop as it moved from target to target. His face and emotions reflected nothing but cold, calculating focus. He seemed to shut himself down when he picked up the gun, the only important things being his squad and the enemies trying to kill him.

She leaned against the wall, deciding not to interrupt him until he finished. After several minutes, the sounds of bullets striking metal, the roar of the gauss rifle, and the metallic scent in the air faded and silence fell over the range. Creed slowly lowered his rifle and observed his handiwork. Satisfied, he turned around and didn’t seem surprised to see her watching him.

He looked much better now that he was out of bed. His face had color again and he seemed to have more energy now that he was moving around. He’d gotten new clothes too. The black XCOM fatigues were a new shade of black and not faded like hers, which made her think the medics disposed of them out of some irrational fear that he was carrying an alien contagion.

He was clearly unsure how to feel about seeing her right now, his emotions ranging from ecstatic to resigned. He likely knew what she wanted, no, _needed_ to talk about, but wasn’t looking forward to it even if he was happy to see her. She briefly considered psionically calming him, removing whatever concern he had about talking to her.

Because that’s what he was worried about now. That something would change between them, and she did think it would, but she didn’t think it would be a bad thing either. Still, she suspected that even if he was ever going to tell her about his childhood, it would be on his own terms and not due to her finding it accidentally. Not that she could blame him.

One thing that _was_ ridiculous was this irrational feeling of worry, likely due to how she’d react to not being told. Yes, of course he’d wonder if she’d be mad at him for not telling him every traumatic moment of his life. Because of _course_ that’s who she was, a self-absorbed jerk with no respect for privacy.

Still, she got it to a degree. Fortunately he was the type not to focus on it. “Good shooting,” she complemented, thinking that might interject some normalcy.

He nodded and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Appreciated,” he answered, beginning to walk towards her. “From what I can tell, I’m perfectly ready to go. What you did seems to have worked completely.”

“Good,” Patricia answered with a quick nod. “I did my best.”

Creed pursed his lips, and she felt him fortify himself before he continued. “You said I was caught in a memory…which one? I can remember pieces, but not the whole thing.”

Patricia motioned to one of the metallic benches that lined the walls. “Want to sit down?”

“Yes,” he agreed as they walked over. “Good idea.”

Both of them sat down, angled towards each other. Patricia took a breath and started talking. “It was in a house, mostly in the kitchen to be specific. There were two in there already, who I assume were your mother and brother.”

“Ah,” he winced and nodded. “She had a knife, yes? She was going to hurt him?”

“Yes,” Patricia didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

“So you saw that one,” he continued quietly, looking away into the distance. “How was I…trapped in there, I guess?”

“You intervened,” Patricia shrugged. “You killed her a few seconds after seeing her. You didn’t let the memory finish the way it was supposed to. So it just repeated until you got it right.” She paused. “You want to kill her, didn’t you?”

“Not as much anymore,” he sighed. “Depends on the context, if I saw her again threatening to hurt a child, then yes, I’d do so with no regrets. But I haven’t seen her in decades, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“So…you stayed with her?” Patricia asked. “The whole time?”

“For a lot longer than I should have,” he admitted, bursts of old pain appearing inside him. “It’s hard to explain without experiencing it. But I guess I didn’t know better, it was just something I accepted as normal. What you saw was my last memory of her. After that I was terrified that one of those times she was actually going to kill one of us and I didn’t want that to happen. So I got my brother and we ran away.”

Patricia blinked. “She didn’t try to get you back?”

“Oh, she certainly _tried_ ,” Creed chuckled without any humor. “But once the police became involved it was a much different story. Those months were a blur; all I specifically remember saying was that I was never going back. After the whole investigation, both of us were put in the adoption services for a time since there wasn’t any family to take us.”

Patricia looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Was she at least convicted?”

“For something,” Creed shrugged. “I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. As far as I’m concerned, my mother is dead.”

He said that, but she could still feel the simmering resentment within him when he thought of his mother. She hesitated, then finally just decided to ask. “What about your father?”

“Dead,” he stated flatly. “Car crash when I was eight. I was in the car when it happened and somehow survived. Almost wished it had been the other way around sometimes, things certainly would have been different.”

“How?”

“My mother wasn’t always like that,” Creed explained quietly, leaning back. “She was…normal, I guess. Loving. The crash changed her, and I did get the impression that she resented that I had lived. It became a lot clearer as I got older. But…well, it’s not as though I could do anything about it.”

“Oh.” Patricia couldn’t really imagine that. Sure, she’d had issues with her parents like every kid growing up, but she’d never doubted that they cared about her and only wanted her to be happy. She wasn’t sure how she’d react to her own mother practically wishing she’d died, but…it wouldn’t have been good.

She wondered how he could be so…normal after that.

Then again, how many abuse victims had she known before?

When that prior thought came to her, she erased that question from her mind. He’d probably respond as politely as ever, but it seemed…patronizing…when she thought about it. Why couldn’t he recover and function like a normal person? People didn’t get into the SEALs on pity.

“So you just…stayed in the system?” She continued.

His face was drawn, lips twitching as he answered. “Yes, though there wasn’t much choice. Adoption isn’t a fast process, and because of our ages and that we were siblings, that pretty much assured that we wouldn’t get picked by anyone. People only want young children to adopt, it’s just a fact there.”

Patricia wasn’t surprised by that, but didn’t have anything to add that would help. “So what led you to the military?”

“I think I told you before,” he answered, now looking back at her. “I wanted to help people. To protect them from people like my mother. The professions where I could remove criminals from the world legally was limited, and I eventually decided the SEALs would fit best. So I made that my goal.”

Patricia frowned. His reasoning made sense, and with context now, even more so. But also with context came another question. “If you don’t mind me asking…why military? Why not the police, or something more local? You’d be protecting people from criminals like your mother more… _regularly_ , I would think.”

He smirked at that, surprising her. “Patricia, I’d be a terrible cop. True, I thought about it, but I also knew that if I _did_ join that I’d likely be discharged a few months later. You know those stories where a cop shoots an allegedly defenseless person? That’d be me. Because I don’t really tolerate evil, I do something about it. If I caught an abuser in the act I wouldn’t be thinking about arresting him, and _certainly_ not thinking about reading his _rights_.”

He raised a hand, index and middle finger pointed up, miming a gun. “Those kind of people don’t deserve to live. Same idea if some idiot kid tries to shoot me, I’m not worried about taking him alive because he’s trying to kill me.” Creed let out a long sigh. “But that’s not how things work. There are rules. Procedures. Criminals have rights. Justice is determined by how much money each side has. I can’t work in a system like that; at least with the SEALs we can get rid of scum like that with no one knowing.”

His apprehension was becoming more intense. He honestly didn’t seem to know how she’d take all this. Holding opinions like that didn’t exactly play well with a lot of people, even military, but even still he’d told her, figuring she deserved an explanation. She scooted over until she was right next to him and pulled him into a hug.

He was surprised at first, but quickly accepted it, wrapping his massive arms around her. It was still kinda funny how much larger he was than her. “Don’t be so nervous,” she chided quietly in his ear. “I understand completely.”

Both of them broke the embrace and sat in silence for a few moments, looking contentedly at each other. Patricia chewed her lower lip unconsciously. If there was ever a time to bring it up… “There’s…something I was wondering. If you answer, you have to be honest.”

He cocked his head at her. “I think trying to trick you would be monumentally stupid. You _can_ read my mind.”

She scowled. “And also like I said, it’s not as simple as that,” she swallowed. “Anyway-“

The doors hissed open and several of the soldiers walked in, Endre, Carmelita and Alexei to be specific. Patricia resisted the urge to psionically order them out. _Now?_ Did they really have to come _now_ of all times? Creed was still looking at her expectantly. “’Anyway’ what?”

Well, she couldn’t have this talk with them around. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised, standing up, knowing that her skin was flushing and thinking she should probably get out before one of them noticed. “But…thank you for telling me this.”

He gave an easy smile. “Oh, it’s not a problem. I trust you, remember?”

 _Like family_. She remembered, looking at him, not sure what else to say. _Maybe more_.

“I’ll see you later,” she promised, deciding she might as well get some work done until the next opportunity presented itself. “Get better soon.”

***

_The Citadel, Herman’s Quarters_

Herman frowned at Tamara’s equally firm face. “They really had to do this _now_?”

 _“Correct,”_ Tamara answered with a sharp nod. _“I don’t like it either, but since you’ve not exactly produced the results the Council has wanted, I don’t have a sufficient reason to block it. The moderates are becoming concerned he’s working to make them obsolete.”_

“Trust me,” Herman emphasized. “No one knew about the Korean truce. None of the soldiers and certainly not me. Same with Taiwan.”

 _“I know,”_ she sighed wearily. _“But since you’re the only one of us who’s actually worked with the Commander, that makes you ideal to reassure the rest of them there’s nothing to worry about.”_

“Which may not be true,” Herman pointed out. “I won’t lie, but anything I say is likely not going to line up with any of your narratives. And if so, what exactly will happen? XCOM is in charge of this invasion now. To change that would be idiotic.”

 _“You’re telling this to the wrong person,”_ Tamara said, her features pinched as she eyed him in some bemusement. _“Tell that to them. And to answer your point, all of them know XCOM will be the front line of the invasion. But they wonder if the Commander should be leading it, regardless if he’s followed the rules or not.”_

Herman pursed his lips. “Let me be very clear, Tamara. The Commander is not going to step down. Ever. He has the support of the entirety of XCOM. Excluding the soldiers themselves, that includes two women who could kill me with their minds, five cyborgs, a former NATO General, a former Triad operative, and that isn’t counting Israel, North and South Korea and Germany. As well as the other countries he’s allied with.”

 _“Then tell them that,”_ Tamara pressed. _“They need to hear it to kill these idiotic delusions they have. Not that you really have much of a choice.”_

“Yes, yes, I know,” Herman sighed. “I’ll be sure to prepare to depart soon. Hopefully the Council will be a little more welcoming this time.”

 _“Don’t count on it,”_ Tamara warned, her lips twitching. _“Some of them really aren’t happy with you.”_

He sighed, wondering how his life had gotten so complicated. “Tell them to get in line. See you in a couple days, Councilor.”

_“You too, Representative.”_

Herman closed the screen and looked around his sparse room. Well, best update the Commander of this new development. For some odd reason, he doubted the Commander was going to be particularly sad to see him go.

For now, at least. But he suspected he’d return relatively soon. He had unfinished work here, but for now, Lily would have to carry on without him.

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

“I’m not sure what to expect,” the scientist preparing to bring Vahlen out of the psionic pod warned as he began tapping on a touchscreen on the side of it. “She’s likely to be disoriented, especially if it succeeded.”

“Noted,” the Commander confirmed dryly with a quick nod. “Continue.”

He stood, waiting while the man worked, Bradford beside him observing the coffin-shaped pod. “Do you think she noticed how…it _looked_ when designing it?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The Commander snorted. “Probably not. She was probably just looking at it in terms of pure functionality.”

“Of course she was,” Bradford sighed. “Well, let’s hope our soldiers don’t find it similarly disturbing.”

“I’m opening it now,” the scientist called. “Stand by.”

Both of them watched as the pod opened up, the top piece covering the head came up, and two sides opened out revealing Vahlen inside. She’d eschewed her regular lab attire for more practical and comfortable clothing, just a simple white T-shirt and gray shorts. Her head was tilted up, sensors attached all across her body and face.

The Commander immediately noticed two things: One, that her hair was down again, which marked the second time he’d seen it like that. Also, why had _that_ been the first thing he’d noticed when the other was the tangible distortion around her body. He’s seen that on Patricia, so it wasn’t hard to draw conclusions.

Bradford evidently noticed the same. “I think it worked.”

Vahlen’s eyes snapped open and her mouth parted as consciousness returned to her. Her iris were a faint violet, though that faded in a couple seconds as well as the distortion around her. Both the Commander and the scientist stepped forward as she weakly pawed at the sensors on her.

“Easy, Doctor,” the scientist said as he began taking them off. “It’ll just be a second.”

She didn’t say anything, but didn’t move as they worked. She tilted her head to the side to allow him to take the sensors off her face, before turning the other way to repeat the procedure on the other side. He was careful to be gentle, peeling each one off slowly and deliberately and letting them fall to the side.

He stepped back and Vahlen visibly steadied herself and tried stepping out of the pod. Yep, she was clearly disoriented since she practically stumbled out and would have fallen had he not anticipated that and positioned himself to catch her. She was rather light, though that was likely due to his enhanced strength than anything else.

She stayed that way for a few seconds, arms around him and face buried against his chest as he attempted to steady her. He felt her stiffen and then stand up straight again, looking more alive now. She still looked exhausted, but her eyes were bright and energetic now that she was back.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

She looked around at all of them. “Good….I’m…good, Commander,” she winced and pressed a hand to her head. “Apologies, this is a little…overwhelming.”

“I suppose that means it worked?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “It did. It’s…amazing. It’s one thing to hear it described, but another to actually _experience_ it…”

She trailed off, her face indicating she was far away. “Will this help us?” Bradford asked. “In determining more psions, I mean.”

She blinked, shook her head to bring her back to reality. “Yes. Yes, for sure. I can put together a list of applicants within a few hours. This validated my theory, and we can use it to predict the likelihood of psionic sensitivity.”

“Excellent work,” the Commander complemented, smiling as it seemed things were going to turn for the better. “Though you should probably take a break. You’ve earned it.”

She sniffed indignantly. “There are things to be done, Commander,” she pointed out. “I’ll manage fine, although…” she looked down at what she was wearing, pursing her lips. “I’ll have to change into some more… _appropriate_ attire.”

Well, personally he felt she looked fine. But she was right, that wasn’t good enough for a professional environment. _Glad you agree, but remember we need to talk._ Huh…that was not his thought, which likely meant…

He looked a Vahlen with a raised eyebrow, the extent of his response. She simply smiled in return. “I’ll see you later, Commander,” she said, turning away to go change.

Well, if there was one person he didn’t mind doing that to him, it was Vahlen. Though he didn’t exactly like how…easy it had seemed. Nor did he especially think she’d take Patricia’s path and refuse to read him. She’d do it out of curiosity if nothing else. Yes, he’d have to ask her later just how much she could really do.

The Commander picked up his tablet and began scrolling through the list of soldier’s he’d thought about psionically testing. Unlike the gene mods, he wanted to have psions he could trust and there were a few candidates available. Now all Vahlen needed was to run her…theory on them to see how high the likelihood really was.

“Good job, catching her like that,” Bradford commented wryly, coming up beside him. “It must be nice having women throw themselves at you.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and just settled on giving Bradford a _“Really?”_ look instead, which only seemed to make him more amused. “If you wanted to do it, you should have said something.”

Bradford snorted. “Would you have let me?”

“No.”

Bradford chuckled. “It is interesting to watch you two, sometimes. Very oblivious, both of you.”

“Shut up, Bradford,” he sighed wearily, not wanting to deal with this now. “We’ve got actual important things to do. Such as Mongolia, remember?”

“Of course,” he confirmed quickly, returning to business. “I’ll get back to it.”

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“You read over the list?” The Commander asked as he looked down at the holotable, displaying a map of Asia.

Patricia gave a firm nod. “Yes, and think I know where we should focus on.”

“Go ahead,” the Commander nodded, motioning her to continue, looking up to give her his full attention.

“Psions are XCOM’s most powerful asset at the moment,” Patricia continued. “Do you disagree?”

Van Doorn shook his head. “No, you’ve proven that. As has the Ethereal.”

“Same,” the Commander agreed. “Although I’d argue that the MEC program has been invaluable.”

“I’ll get to that,” Patricia promised, tapping her tablet. “But in the meantime, I think we should ensure that the psions that we have don’t die. All that to say that they should be genetically enhanced as soon as possible.”

“Will genetic modification be compatible with psionics?” Van Doorn asked, glancing at the Commander.

“As long as the brain itself isn’t modified,” he answered with a reassuring nod. “Skin, muscle, organs. Modifying those shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Yes,” Patricia added, setting her tablet down. “And these genetic mods should be tailored to a degree for each soldier. I do have some suggestions for each, which goes with my system of psionic organization I’ve developed.”

Van Doorn looked at the Commander. “Did I miss that?”

“No,” Patricia shook her head. “I’m still writing the official document, since that’s something all of you like. But similar to the specializations you’ve developed, it makes sense to apply the same to our psions, since the range of abilities is diverse enough to warrant it.”

The Commander was impressed. Excellent, she’d taken initiative and already had something to show for it. Yes, it was definitely a good idea to bring her into the fold. “Good work. Explain.”

Patricia clasped her hands behind her back and began addressing them in a way that showed she’d put some thought into this. “Based on what I’ve observed and learned, there seem to be roughly four areas that a psion can specialize in. None are mutually exclusive, per-se, but each individual seems to have a natural inclination towards a specific one.”

Van Doorn nodded. “And the specializations are?”

“Telepaths, for starters,” Patricia explained, cocking her head towards him. “Psions who are more inclined towards mind influence and the like. I’d fall under this category and from what you’ve said of Vahlen, she might now as well.”

“But to be clear, telepathy isn’t restricted to that specialty,” the Commander said, wanting to make that clear.

She hesitated. “From what I’ve seen…no. I think each psion can utilize telepathy to a _degree_. Again, that varies from person to person. But some are more inclined than others, like me.”

“Understood,” the Commander nodded, waving his hand in a circular motion. “Continue.”

“Then there are psions more focused are pure destructive capabilities,” she continued neutrally. “Manipulating tangible energy to cause a significant amount of damage. I would think Annette would fall under this one. Unfortunately, I’m not sure she’s a special case or not since we haven’t seen anything like her.”

“The Ethereal seemed to utilize destructive energy as well,” Van Doorn recalled. “I think it’s a reasonable assumption.”

“I’m not sure we can fit the Ethereals into these neat categories,” the Commander said slowly. “At the very least they are thousands of years old. Maybe more. But they’ve had enough time to master any kind of psionic powers they want.”

“Correct,” Patricia agreed grimly, her voice more subdued. “From what I saw, the Ethereal fits into all four of my categories to some degree.”

“Then tell us the last two,” Van Doorn said.

“Right,” she said, returning to her speech. “I assume Annette told you of the so-called ‘Furies’?”

The Commander nodded. “She did.”

“From her descriptions, it seems like telekinesis is a viable specialization,” Patricia continued. “From the psions we have now, I Alexei seems slightly inclined to it, though I don’t know for certain yet. But it is possible, as we saw from the Ethereal.”

The Commander recalled the Ethereal using it to pull soldiers to come to him and slam them against walls. Yes, it was a very real power that had almost unlimited potential. “And the final one?”

“Defense,” she finished. “Iosif actually seems inclined towards it. It’s essentially using psionic energy to defend instead of attack, like forming barriers, stasis fields, stuff like that.”

The Commander nodded. All that made sense and the best thing he could see about her analysis was that each one seemed useful in its own right. Although he’d have been hard-pressed to think of a weakness for psionics. As far as he could tell, the only thing that could really challenge a psion, excluding surprise, was another psion.

“I suppose you’ve thought about this,” Van Doorn said, scratching his chin with a hand. “But I’m curious; which do you think is the most useful or strongest?”

She hesitated, looking down as she thought of her answer. “I can’t give a definitive answer to that,” she finally admitted. “Honestly it’ll come down to surprise, and how powerful each psion is. I think telepaths are more useful due to that they can be utilized outside of combat operations, but I don’t think any one discipline is _stronger_.”

The Commander agreed. He could visualize quite a few scenarios where two psions of differing disciplines faced off and both had clear paths of victory. She was also right about telepaths being useful in other ways. Ways he was considering utilizing when the time came. The world was still largely unaware of psionics, and that gave him an advantage against potentially troublesome political elements.

Although, there was little anyone could do to stop them even if they _did_ know.

“Thank you, Patricia,” the Commander complemented, inclining his head in her direction. “Finish up that document so we can get that into circulation when we awaken more psions. In which case, enhancing the ones we have seems like a good move.”

“We should place both the sensitive ones in the pod,” Van Doorn suggested. “We already know they’re able, they just need to be pushed forward.”

The Commander looked at Patricia. “Is that a good idea?”

“It _should_ be fine,” she answered slowly, leaning on the holotable. “From my understanding of how the pod works, it determines sensitivity and if there is, it…rewires the brain to draw it out artificially instead of naturally.”

Van Doorn suddenly looked thoughtful. “Theoretically, if a psion was left in the pod for…let’s say a week, would they be more powerful than someone in there three days?”

“Likely,” Patricia answered, frowning as she eyed the General. “But too much overexposure might drive them insane after a certain point. I doubt it would be safe. EXALT somehow managed it and from the sounds of things, killed most of their subjects. Aside from that, experimentation is necessary to fully make use of abilities.”

“Point taken,” Van Doorn acknowledged.

“So currently we only have four psions, including yourself,” the Commander continued, picking up his tablet and looking at the personnel files. “That will not put a dent in our resources, even if we completely enhance you. So what next?”

“Once the psions are taken care of, we have to do the same to the Internal Council,” Patricia stated. “All of us are too valuable to risk getting killed, like it or not.”

“Most of us don’t see combat,” Van Doorn pointed out, frowning at her. “With the exception of the Commander, that would honestly be a waste of resources. I’m fairly certain Vahlen only tested her pod on herself out of curiosity.”

“Vahlen can use her test to determine the likelihood of psionic sensitivity,” Patricia defended. “Aside from that, I’d argue it’s at least necessary for you and Zhang. I get the feeling XCOM is going to become more public in the future and you’re the face of it at the moment. It’s not unrealistic to prepare for the possibility of an assassination attempt or worse.”

“She has a point,” the Commander nodded, glancing at Van Doorn. “Perhaps Vahlen and Shen could be lower priorities, but you, Zhang, even Bradford, I can easily justify being enhanced.”

Van Doorn sighed. “We can determine that later. What next, Patricia?”

“Our MEC pilots,” she continued. “I suggest they just be as enhanced as Myra. No more or less. So even if the suit doesn’t protect them, they have a good chance to survive.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “I actually told Shen to include the modification with the surgery. It’s taken care of.”

She smiled. “Good. That leaves the rest of the soldiers. I have a list I think would benefit most from enhancement.”

“I see it,” he confirmed, looking at his tablet. “And I also have one for you to look over. We need to replenish our forces, so I’ve compiled a list of around forty soldiers who I think would be appropriate. Look over them and see if you agree.”

“How did you get forty?” She demanded incredulously.

He shrugged, smiling. “A quarter are North and South Korean personnel. Taiwan was also generous with their selection. Add in the Council nations and our own allied countries, and it wasn’t hard to come up with that number.”

She rubbed her forehead as she looked at the daunting number. “This may take me a day or so,” she warned, looking up at him. “What even is our barracks capacity?”

“Right now it’s…” he glanced a Van Doorn. “Sixty? Yes, for now anyway. But it can be expanded if needed. Besides, I want to begin preparations for the Hephaestus Contingency, and that will include a sizable number of reserves.”

Her arm lowered as she appraised him grimly. “You’re really expecting an attack soon then,”

The Commander sighed. “It’s inevitable at some point. If the aliens manage to get ahold of any of the councilors, our base isn’t secret any longer. The Citadel will be attacked, it’s only a matter of time and when it happens, I’d prefer we have a backup plan.”

“Is the ultimate goal Phase 3A?” She asked.

That was good, it showed she actually read the document. “Ideally. But that will take months at least.”

“There is another thing to consider,” she added slowly. “They might not need to go through the Council to find us.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “Explain?”

“You know I can sense people,” she said, leaning against the wall, sighing. “But other psions…they stand out. A lot. My range is limited, but it’s possible that an Ethereal could simply sense for psions and pinpoint us that way. Four psions in one area might attract their attention.”

That was a good point…and a big problem. But the thing was, he wasn’t sure how he could really counter that. Storing each individual psion in random places around the world to reduce detection was impractical, and couldn’t be afforded. Like it or not, until he came up with some way of shielding psionic energy, that was now going to be a potential risk.

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do about that,” Van Doorn said, coming to the same conclusion. “Not until Vahlen determines some way to negate psionics.”

“Yes,” the Commander agreed. “She’ll be working on that next. Though I’m not sure if they can really be _stopped_.”

“Well, whatever she comes up with is better than nothing,” Patricia said, pushing herself off the wall. “I can try to shield others from mind control or worse, but I don’t know if I’ll succeed. It’s not like placing a shield over them.”

“Nothing ever is these days,” the Commander agreed with some amusement. “But this could be worse, I suppose. We know what to do now, so I suggest we get started. Van Doorn, tell ASEAN I’ll be making a visit soon. That should make them happy.”

“That it should,” Van Doorn chuckled. “The Korean gambit was risky, but I think that’s what it took to get them to come to you.”

The Commander smiled as he turned down to the holotable. North Korea and Taiwan were taken care of, which left Mongolia and ASEAN. With any luck Bradford would set things up with Mongolia and if he could convince ASEAN of the viability of an alliance, that would box China in quite nicely. Should they still persist in causing problems, he was confident he could hurt them in the trade area, mostly by using their collection of alien tech as incentives for placing sanctions on the country. Although he had to be careful not to damage China too much, they still had a part to play.

Though not until they received some new management. But that was a problem for another day. After the Directive was initiated.

“Let’s get to work,” he said. “Dismissed.”

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

“Question,” Jackson asked as they both looked at the hologlobe detailing various hotspots in the world. “Are you concerned that the diversity in our soldiers will cause problems? I looked at the list of new ones coming in and…it’s something that stood out.”

“Yes and no,” the Commander answered, looking down at her. “I expect there to be some animosity in the beginning, especially between the Koreans, but one thing I’ve also noticed is that a nation of origin isn’t as big a deal here as elsewhere. It’s harder to be angry at one nation when humanity itself is threatened. Puts it into perspective.”

She bit her lip as she considered that. “True. It’s kinda silly now that I think about it. We spent, no, _spend_ a lot of time fighting each other for reasons that really seem pointless now.”

“Humans are diverse, as are the cultures,” the Commander shrugged. “Conflict will always happen.”

“I suppose the question is what it will take to stop it,” she commented thoughtfully, tapping the touchpad on the hologlobe stand. “Even now there are countries poised against each other. Justified or no, that isn’t helping anything now. Isolation will kill us, as will misplaced national pride.”

Hmm. Perhaps he could see what she thought of some things. “If there was ever a time for the UN to do something, it would be now. As it stand, the name rings a bit hollow.”

“Do what?” Jackson looked with, her voice weary with resignation. “Form an actual world government? No nation is going to willingly give up their sovereignty, even if it is needed to survive.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s needed?”

“I..” she paused, clearly concerned she’d said the wrong thing.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “I’m curious.”

“I…don’t think we have much of a choice,” she continued quickly. “We can’t rely on the superpowers to save the world on their own. America, China, Russia, acting alone the aliens will just target them down and eliminate them one by one. Coordination is needed, and the UN doesn’t allow that. Sure, they’ll pass resolutions for some joint action against the aliens, but they’re not going to order soldiers from America to go to China.”

“Because the UN has no weapons other than words,” the Commander agreed. “NATO is useful, but it’s in no way a powerful army, and mostly used to curtail Russian aggression.”

“The UN needs to be reformed or replaced,” she finally admitted with a sigh. “But I know that’s not going to happen anytime soon. By the time it does, it might be too late.”

That remained to be seen.

“That was interesting to hear,” he told her, inclining his head. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thanks for not calling me crazy,” she chuckled. “The UN is a touchy subject for a lot of people.”

“Right,” he agreed, looking back up at the hologlobe. “So Brazil, any updates?”

“The situation has stabilized, though the country is still on lockdown,” Jackson answered. “However, Marshal Russo has contacted us, wanting to speak to you.”

The Commander smiled. “How convenient, since I also wanted to speak to her.”

Events needed to be put into motion now. Meetings needed to be set up before things became worse, as they no doubt would.

It was time to begin putting the first phases of the Directive into motion. But first the Internal Council needed to be brought up to speed on it. All of them.

“Hold off scheduling a meeting for the moment,” he ordered, which she seemed surprised at. “And have Bradford schedule a meeting with the Internal Council within a couple of days. You are to come as well.”

“Me?” She repeated incredulously.

“Things are going to change quickly after it,” he explained, taking some amusement from how surprised she seemed. “You’ve proven yourself invaluable and Bradford agrees. You’ve earned a place with us and will be needed going forward.”

“I…” she swallowed, and simply gave him a heartfelt salute. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Commander! We’ve got a problem!” Bradford called, literally _running_ to him, his eyes and voice filled with worry.

“What is it?” The Commander demanded, turning to face him.

“Jackson! Screen one,” he ordered, and she quickly complied while he turned fully to the Commander. “New York is under attack.”

“How many?” The Commander asked, picking up his tablet to prepare his soldiers.

“Unknown,” he shook his head. “The White House just ordered marines into the city. There will probably be more coming. But building are collapsing and the people are being slaughtered.” He handed him his tablet showing what looked to be a much larger version of a muton. The armor was red, heavier, and these mutons had helmets with masks that has spike-like attachments pointing up and to the sides.

“This alien was spotted attacking anything it could,” Bradford continued grimly. “It appeared to be alone, but I doubt it’s the only one. It get worse than that.”

The Commander had a sinking feeling he knew what that was. “The Ethereal.”

“Spotted near Central Park,” he confirmed, his lips a thin white line. “I’ve warned the White House not to engage it. But as it stands it’s running around unchallenged.”

“Get everyone on this,” the Commander ordered, finishing his squad deployment roster. “Let’s hope Patricia is ready for this.”

***

_The Citadel, Hangar_

Deep breaths.

They could do this.

So Patricia told herself as she geared up, sliding on her gauntlets, flexing her fingers, trying to ignore them shaking. There was a very good chance that this would be the last time she saw these barracks. These people. This world.

_Don’t think about that. You can win._

Could she? Both Alexei and Iosif had been put in the pods and had emerged with quite a bit more power at their disposal. But they were still new, still learning. They were going to fight an _Ethereal_. A being who was quite possibly thousands of years old.

How the hell could she stand up to that?

But she didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t, people would die. She glanced around the barracks at the soldiers gearing up, eyes lingering on Creed a little longer than the others.

People she cared about.

Their emotions were a mix of fury, resolve, determination. No fear. They didn’t know they should be. This was just another alien. A bit more powerful, but it would die just like the others. And besides, they didn’t have to worry, Patricia was with them.

She swallowed.

Her. They believed in her. That she’d be the one to lead them to victory. _She_ was why they didn’t believe this could be the end. And she couldn’t exactly _dispel_ that. They had to have some hope, as unrealistic as it was. She flipped her helmet in her hands, looking into the expressionless visor. The mask that had been the last thing many had seeing before dying.

Well, let’s see how many she could add to that number before the night was fully over.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and she didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Creed. “We’re going to win,” he promised, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t forget that.”

“I know,” she whispered softly, turning to him. “But-“

“Shh,” he told her, raising a finger to his smiling lips. “None of that. Come now, how could we lose? I’m a SEAL and you can control minds, it can’t get much better than that.”

She had to chuckle at that. At least his attempts at humor were back. “Fine then, but you have to promise to follow my orders. If I tell you to run…run.”

He nodded. “Look, I know this Ethereal is powerful. But you’re going to need all the help-“

 _“No.”_ She stated firmly. “This is my battle, mine and the other psions.”

“We’ll finish the other aliens,” Creed promised, putting his helmet on. “Then we’ll come for you.”

She accepted that for now and turned to the rest of the soldiers who were geared up and ready to go. “Load up!” She shouted, marching towards the door. “You know your assignments, double time to the skyrangers!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted and together all of them rushed towards the hangar. The two MECs were also getting loaded up. Patricia felt a little better seeing that massive Ballista-class, armed to the teeth with missile launchers and cannons. Even if Myra’s somewhat smaller Marauder-class was more agile, pure firepower was comforting to her.

Alexei, Iosif, Fakhr Samuel, Creed, Yeva and Nazar all followed her into Big Sky’s skyranger and strapped in and they lifted off in record time. The Commander wasted no time bringing them up to speed on the current situation. _“I’ll dispense with what you already know. New York is under attack by an unknown number of aliens. From the images sent, they appear to mostly be a variant of the mutons, but much larger and presumably more dangerous. There are probably more, but they’re spread throughout the city. The NYPD and Marine Corps are beginning to make headway but they need support.”_

Patricia privately hoped the NYPD had done the smart thing and gotten the hell out of there. No police force could deal with the aliens. Even the marines were going to be lucky to make any headway whatsoever. But she had a different role to play. “Creed and Carmelita will reinforce the Marine guard and begin clearing the city,” she stated. “Annette will accompany you to hopefully clear the aliens out quicker.”

She’d debated bringing Annette with her team to face the Ethereal, but had ultimately decided she’d be more useful on the front lines. They needed at least one psion, and she wanted composed soldiers at her side when they fought the Ethereal. Annette was powerful, but she was still a loose cannon and lacked adequate mental defenses. Even Alexei could get into her head, and that wasn’t promising. The last thing she wanted was to face a mind-controlled Annette.

That being said…Alexei and Iosif didn’t have the strongest mental defenses either. They could withstand each other, and even her to a degree, but that might not be adequate when facing a psion much more powerful than them. As it stood, she wasn’t sure it was a fair fight, even with the three of them.

Quite honestly, they were almost a distraction to prevent the Ethereal from ravaging the city unchecked. Hopefully they’d delay it enough so that the entirety of the soldiers and Annette could come reinforce them and drive it back. Kill it if they were lucky, but she wasn’t convinced that the entire Marine Corps would be enough to win.

 _“Gray Sky will drop Myra and Sanya near the hot zones,”_ the Commander continued. _“Sanya will provide artillery support while Myra can deal with any closer encounters.”_

“We also have the Ethereal,” Patricia added, suppressing her burst of worry. “Alexei, Iosif and I will do our best to contain it until reinforcements come.”

“You can count on us,” Carmelita assured her with a nod. “It’s time for payback.”

There was a chorus of agreement that she couldn’t help feel emboldened by. They really believed she could do it, that they all could. Perhaps they could, perhaps they couldn’t, but she’d do whatever it took to save as many as possible.

 _“Psion Trask, we’re coming up on the designated LZ close to Central Park,”_ Big Sky warned as she felt the skyranger dip and turn to the left. _“Prepare to disembark.”_

“Copy,” she nodded, standing. Iosif and Alexei joined her side as she felt their eyes upon her.

Respect.

Inspiration.

Hope.

Resolve.

That was what she felt from them. No fear.

So she used it. Let their emotions wash over her like water, taking solace in their faith that she’d emerge victorious. And as the skyranger dipped down, a calm descended upon her, a state of peace that remained as it hit the ground. As the ramp lowered, she stepped forward without fear, ready to face whatever this Ethereal had to throw against her.

 _“Good luck, Patricia,”_ the Commander said.

The air rippling around her, the two psions at her side, she advanced into Central Park, holding onto the calm she’d gained. She took a breath, taking a moment to compose herself, and closed her eyes, sensing for the disturbances.

It hit her like a truck. The screams, pain, terror, all saturated the city in equal measure. The voices were a mishmash of babbles and yells, the emotions of terror and pain impossible to distinguish from each other.

And yet there was something very clear, a well of pain and power so vast it was impossible to miss.

The Ethereal.

Her eyes popped open and she pointed forward. “This way,” she ordered, raising her autorifle, her voice slightly distorted from her helmet and psionic trance. “We follow the bodies.”

***

_South Brooklyn, New York City_

_“We’re coming in hot!”_ Burning Sky warned as the skyranger dipped sharply. Annette could hear the gunfire and explosions even inside it. Surprisingly, she felt calmer than she should be. Maybe it was because she’d faced trials no person should have endured, and came out sane. Intrinsically, she knew that charging into a suicide mission was…well, suicidal.

But she’d done the impossible before. She could do it again.

It helped that she was surrounded by people who were willing to fight and die for their species. Her hand rested on the pistol she’d been given, a traditional weapon they’d insisted she have in case she couldn’t use her psionics. Since a pistol was the only weapon she was slightly familiar with, she’d taken it. Anything larger would just slow her down.

She didn’t really think she’d be shooting much either.

“What’s the situation?” The South Korean demanded. Carmelita. That was her name. Annette wasn’t as skilled as Patricia in sensing thoughts and emotions, but the pure contained hate inside her was impossible to miss. Annette was almost sorry for the aliens facing her.

 _“Twenty, maybe thirty soldiers are fighting two of those large mutons,”_ she answered, pulling the skyranger into a sharp turn. _“It’s not going well.”_

“Circle around and open the ramp!” She ordered, marching to the end by her. “Gray Sky! Drop off Myra and Sanya behind me! Burning Sky, land by the marines!”

 _“Copy that,”_ Burning Sky answered, the ramp already lowering giving Annette the first taste of the city. Screams and gunfire reached her ears instantly, along with the acrid smell of smoke. The gray skyscrapers were all around her, dwarfing everything underneath them. She’d always had New York as one of her places to visit.

But not like this.

Carmelita charged out and dropped to the ground, while Burning Sky brought them to the ground, marines already moving to provide them some covering fire as they charged out. “Go, go, go!” Latrell shouted and all of them charged out into the street, bullets and gobs of plasma flying around them.

Burned out cars, bodies and rubble littered the streets. Fires raged all around the nearby buildings, inside the cars, and people trapped on the upper floors were yelling in terror as the blazes spread. The marines were taking positions behind the cover the ruined streets provided, but after Annette saw the aliens themselves, realized that they were in an almost hopeless situation.

Standing in the open with no regard for cover, two massive aliens were firing indiscriminately around them, wielding massive plasma cannons that had to have been as tall as her. They were just shorter than Myra, and appeared to be built of pure muscle as well. Their armor was a deep red, covering every inch of their bodies.

A trio of civilians tried to run away and were instantly gunned down by one of the mutons, the force of the plasma rounds nearly vaporizing the bodies. Their armor sparked as the marines’ ballistic fire hit it, but the rounds simply glanced off and lacked the power to punch through the alloy plating. Carmelita had landed close to the duo, and was spotted instantly, one of the mutons unleashing a devastating barrage on her, forcing her behind a nearby building.

“Covering fire!” Latrell shouted, unleashing a hail of bullets from his position behind a truck. He was quickly joined by Cai and Jamali, allowing Yeva, Veronika and Blake to get in closer to get better shots on the aliens.

Myra hit the ground a short distance before the leftmost muton, shaking the ground with her descent. _“Initializing flamethrower.”_

Annette witnessed her raise her robotic fists and engulf the muton in a cone of blue and orange flame. It roared and stumbled back, forcing it’s friend to turn away from Carmelita and focus on the MEC. This was her chance to get in there. She recalled everything she’d endured, the anger, pain and terror that had sustained her and given her the resolve to fight back.

She allowed the overwhelming emotions of the terrified people around her to enter her, and she focused that into power, a burning vengeance for what was happening here. The power manifested itself around her, wreathing her gauntleted hands in corrosive energy, scorching her armor and dissolving her skin.

She gritted her teeth and raised a hand toward the right muton, the one forcing Myra back with its barrage of plasma fire. Carmelita was firing blasts from the alloy cannon, but didn’t seem to be doing much damage. Annette dashed forward, slid into cover behind a fallen concrete column, and after taking a second to compose herself, stood up.

Golden blood now stained the red armor, but it seemed not to slow the mutons in the least. The scorched one seemed fully recovered and was firing at Myra who was taking some glancing shots. Carmelita fired a blast into the legs of one and it roared and fell to one knee.

Annette drew her right hand back, placing the other on her chest as she gathered the swirling energy around her around the right one. It grew in intensity, sparking and writing around her, burning her arm like acid. When she could hold it no longer, she thrust the hand forward, shooting a violet stream of energy towards the wounded muton.

It slammed into its head, ripping away the ornate helmet and boring through the skin behind it. It didn’t even have time to roar in pain as the lethal energy ripped the head apart instantly. Annette fell to one knee, slightly dizzy from using that much energy. But it was done, and the headless corpse fell to the ground.

“Focus on the last one!” Carmelita shouted, charging the muton currently in a standoff with Myra.

“Reinforcements coming in!” Blake shouted, giving Annette a brief heart attack, but she heard the roar of a skyranger and realized it was _XCOM_ reinforcements. Likely those still remaining after Patricia and her team was dropped off. She let off a whoop and returned to focusing on the muton.

The hail of bullets was starting to take its toll, as Annette saw streams of ichor leaking off of it, but this only seemed to enrage the alien, and it suddenly stopped firing, and turned towards the mass of soldiers firing at it. Annette raised her hand and closed a fist, directing the energy to focus on the alien.

It was suddenly engulfed in tearing bands of energy, ravaging what remained of its. She gritted her teeth as she continued directing the power, knowing it could only last a few seconds. The muton let out a loud roar and pulled something from its belt and tossed it towards the soldiers.”

“Grenade!” Veronika yelled, dashing from her cover. It was aiming towards Cai and Yeva and Annette realizing that they might not make it. Even as both of them jumped away from the spinning projectile, they didn’t escape the blast radius as the grenade exploded in a ball of green energy.

Yeva was thrown back, parts of her armor gone and clearly injured, but it looked like she was alive. Cai wasn’t as lucky. The blast shredded his armor and virtually cut him in half, killing him within a few seconds. Annette finally lost control of the direction sank to the ground, trying to regain her energy.

But it was enough for Myra to charge in and slam the muton to the ground, it too wounded to put up a substantial fight. Pinning it with a metal foot, she lowered her cannon and blasted it in the face several times, turning its head into pink mush.

Relative silence fell over the battlefield, even as the screams sounded in the distance.

Blake began rushing towards Yeva to treat her wounds, and the rest of them took up overwatch positions as the marines began regrouping. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. “You alright?” Latrell asked, concern emanating from him.

“Fine,” she breathed, walking over to where Carmelita and Creed were, talking to one of the marines. “I’ll be fine.”

He accepted that and both of them walked over to the small group. “What’s the situation?” Latrell asked as they came up.

“Bad,” Creed answered grimly, greeting them with a nod. “There are reports of firefights across the city.”

“Good job with that muton,” Carmelita commented, then motioned to the marine. “This is Gunnery Sergeant Davis.”

“I’m organizing the military response to this,” the bearded man stated. “What we can, anyway. I’d hate to think what would happen without you.”

“Thank us later,” Carmelita reprimanded. “We need to move in. Where do you have your men?”

“I have detachments entering at the major entrances,” he answered, pulling out a map. “There are two teams entering Staten Island, two entering Queens and two more heading towards Times Square. I’ve lost contact with all teams there, though.”

Creed and Carmelita exchanged a look. “That’s where the Ethereal was spotted. Your soldiers are probably dead,” Carmelita stated bluntly. “But we need to move in now. You don’t have the firepower to take these aliens out.”

“I’ve called in tanks to reinforce us,” Davis stated. “But you’re right-“

The ground shook behind them and all of them turned as one to see one of the massive skyscrapers in the distance slowly collapse in front of their eyes. “We move now!” Carmelita ordered, waving the soldiers towards the area where the skyscraper had collapsed. “Come on!”

Annette quickly broke into a sprint as they charged forward to protect the city.

***

_New York City, Near Times Square_

It felt and looked like she was going through a nightmare.

Hundreds of corpses littered the streets, their faces contorted in utter pain and terror in death. Most of them were curled up, trying to ease pain that came from everywhere. Others had died in crashes, hundreds of cars forming a steel block in the streets. Even more were crashed into buildings, killing even more.

But what was most disturbing to her was that she didn’t sense anyone. Everyone near her was dead.

 _Follow the bodies_.

So they did.

Patricia looked down at the corpse of a police officer, his skin warped and melted, which likely meant that the Ethereal had killed him personally. There were more like that. Every odd person was killed in a more tangible way. Some had also seemed to commit suicide, if the self-inflicted gunshot wounds and slit throats were anything to go by.

Both Alexei and Iosif were silent as they walked through the mostly bloodless carnage.

“How close are we?” Iosif asked quietly.

She paused and quickly sensed her area. The well of power and pain was still there, impenetrable but close. Waiting. He knew they were there. Psions could sense each other, and he had to have known they would come.

But she was more concerned that they were expected.

“Close,” she answered quietly, continuing forward.

The sheer scale of the buildings around her was amazing, it made her feel small. Insignificant. She could only imagine what it was like normally. Before it turned into a death trap. It was eerie in a way, excluding the carnage on the street, and a few fires here and there…it was almost normal. The lights still ran, screens still run, and she could see the lights of Times Square in front of her.

She held up a fist as she saw a lone figure in the center of the street. Surrounded by flaming cars, corpses and rubble, the being she assumed was the Ethereal stood alone, his back to them. It was almost exactly like the image she’d seen. A towering, robed alien with a corroded and damaged helm. Two hands were raised in the direction of one of the buildings, purple distortions around the limbs.

Patricia didn’t know what he was doing, but she didn’t want to give him a chance to finish it. “Throw something at him,” she said quietly to Alexei who nodded and began looking around for an appropriate projectile. After he’d emerged from the pod, it had quickly become apparent that he had some skill with telekinesis and had spent an extreme amount of time lifting various objects. He couldn’t really manipulate them _that_ well, but he could throw them at terminal speeds.

They were nearly thirty feet from the Ethereal now. Patricia aimed her autorifle at the alien, beginning to telepathically communicate _‘now’_ when a wave of pain rushed over her. Hot needles stabbed into her back and she let out a gasp before realizing the psionic influence around it.

 _Oh no you don’t_.

The Hive Commander had tried to block unwanted influence, but fortunately she was more successful and had also taught it to both of them and after a few gasps from Iosif and Alexei, they straightened back up and refocused on the Ethereal. Patricia didn’t even think that was a coordinated attack, just an effect of being around the alien. But if _that_ was what these people had felt…no wonder they’d died like that.

But the element of surprise had been lost, so all of them moved at once. Alexei motioned towards a jagged steel beam which levitated a few feet off the ground, the air around it and his hand distorted and warped. Interesting that the purple residue of psionics didn’t seem to accompany him like the rest of them.

Alexei shoved his hand forward, propelling the spear of metal towards the Ethereal, and at the same time Patricia and Iosif opened fire with their weapons. Now the Ethereal reacted instantly, a third arm emerged from the robe, palm raised in their direction. The beam stopped a few inches from the hand, as did all their gauss rounds.

A thundering _crack_ sounded and Patricia watched in amazement and horror as the building the Ethereal had been facing began to collapse, taking all the nearby buildings with it. His job done, the arms withdrew within the robe and turned to face them directly. They kept firing but the Ethereal simply stared them down, not letting their weapons affect him in the least.

 _This isn’t working._ She communicated to Iosif and Alexei. _Let me try something._

“You are beyond the need for such trifles,” the Ethereal said, making Patricia grit her teeth as that awful voice sank into her mind, oozing with psionic power, worming its way into the deepest confines of her mind, ensuring she’d never forget it. Even with her filtering out the worst aspects of the Ethereal’s influence, it did little to quiet the awful wail of its voice.

He extended a hand from the robe and her weapon flew out of her hands and skidded to the ground just before the Ethereal. Alexei and Iosif received the same treatment and immediately moved to new forms of defense. Iosif’s hands were wreathed in purple energy, preparing to defend against the coming attack.

Alexei’s hands were at his side, palms turned upward as several small pieces of stone and steel levitated around him. Patricia readied her own assault on the Ethereal’s mind. Said Ethereal looked at all of them, bemusement, or some equivalent emanating off of him.

“You have power,” he said stepping forward, another hand emerging for the robe, a swirling ball of energy forming in the palm. “But you lack experience. You lack direction.”

He thrust the hand forward, shooting the ball of energy directly as Iosif who raised his hand, a small shimmering purple shield appearing in front of him which absorbed the purple ball of energy. Alexei pushed forward and threw all his levitated objects at the Ethereal who simply looked at them and they stopped frozen in mid-air.

Another arm emerged from the robe and pushed at Alexei who was thrown back and slammed against the far wall. Patricia focused directly on the Ethereal’s mind, probing for _some_ sort of weakness, a hole she could push. But it was like breaking into a safe, there was no easy way inside. Iosif made a collapsing motion with his hands, and the Ethereal was suddenly encased in a shimmering purple prison.

It was distracted for one brief second and that was all she needed. She broke through the first layer, almost overwhelmed by the rush of pure _alien_ feelings she had no description for entering her mind, thoughts in languages she couldn’t begin to comprehend. And she hadn’t even broken into his mind, not really. This was simply just the surface.

But she could work with that. All creatures felt pain, and now she could unleash some of that on him. She pushed one simple concept on him, a decree that the mind would determine how effective it was: _You are dying slowly and painfully._

She pressed that upon him, and the Ethereal screamed. A scream that caused all of them to clutch their helmets in a vain attempt to make it stop. The air around the Ethereal rippled, purple strands appearing and disappearing like lightning and she thought that she’d weakened it.

Until she was suddenly closed off and thrown out of the mind. That shouldn’t have happened! That should have at least debilitated him until-

Now it was her turn to start screaming as every inch of her body was suddenly scorched, cut, broken and more. She collapsed to the ground, moaning as the Ethereal broke through her mental defenses and redirected her attack back on her. It took every ounce of concentration not to let the pain consume her, so prevalent was the instruction in her mind. She still heard his voice even as she suffered.

“Foolish human,” he said, the voice heard through her ears and in her mind. “You lack imagination. Pain is only an effective weapon against the susceptible. The _weak_. You have no concept of what causes _lasting_ pain for beings like us.”

 _“Quiet!”_ She screamed, slamming a fist into the unforgiving concrete, a purple shockwave emanating from where it hit, sending everything with the radius a short distance back. The pain receded slightly and she used that to try and regain control of her mind. She couldn’t completely block the pain, but she could limit the debilitating parts.

But there was still some, it still covered her body. But it was manageable. It was in her head. It wasn’t real but it could be used. With a yell she stood up slowly, shaking but doing it. Both Alexei and Iosif were on one knee, similarly debilitated and fighting it. There was no time for them to recover.

She first entered their minds, pushing through their shattered defenses. _Get up._ She ordered, pushing her will onto them until they stood with her, ready to continue fighting the Ethereal who simply watched.

“Well done,” he congratulated. “But insufficient.” Two arms emerged from the robe, purple energy curling around them and they were aimed at her. Purple wreaths leapt towards her at lightning speeds, which she couldn’t avoid in time. But she was saved when a small shield appeared in front of her, blocking the energy from consuming her.

While Iosif protected her, Alexei was still throwing objects at the Ethereal in an attempt to distract him. In the brief time she was allotted to recover, Patricia redoubled her attack on the Ethereal’s mind, pushing now a much simpler command. _Cease._

It didn’t work, but the energy stream faltered slightly and she pushed at the mind again and again. She repeated the command more times than she could count, hoping that one would get through.

The stream stopped. Iosif fell to one knee beside her and the Ethereal looked at her, a slight admiration emanating from him. “Well done,” he said, stepping towards her.

 _Distract him_.

Alexei. She sent an affirmative and decided a different tactic. “What are you waiting for?” She demanded, taking a ready stance. “What do you want from us?”

“ _Proof,”_ the Ethereal hissed, the air around him rippling once more. “Humans have a sentimentality to the innocent that is _predictable_. I wanted to _see_ what could defeat a Hive Commander. I wanted to _see_ what could convince one of our own to betray us. I want to see your reputation _justified_ , psion.”

Iosif was standing back up and Patricia looked up into the torn helm of the Ethereal. “We are not _experiments_ ,” she hissed, her vision turning purple. “We are not _pawns_ for you to simply observe and discard.”

The Ethereal looked down at them. “That remains to be seen.”

 _Now_.

Alexei. Iosif once more entrapped the Ethereal in a cocoon of energy and Patricia focused everything she had on imposing one command.

_Wait._

_Wait._

_Wait._

The Ethereal let out a roar as a jagged piece of metal sprouted from its chest . Patricia and Iosif were blown back by a sudden expulsion of energy and Patricia watched, terrified and amazed as Alexei was suddenly suspended in the air behind the Ethereal, a hand raised towards him, and two more pulling the bloody piece of metal out of the body.

_Stay._

_Stay._

_Stay._

Patricia hissed and tried to fight the command that the Ethereal was pushing down on her, preventing her from doing anything but watching as he turned around, the same metal beam now aimed at Alexei. She groaned and shuddered, but her limbs were like rocks, unable to move without her mind cooperating.

The beam shot forward, impaling Alexei in his neck, and his body was slammed to the ground when the Ethereal thrust his hand down.

_Stay._

_Go._

_Stay._

_Go._

With a shout she broke the mantra and shakily rose to her feet once more. She needed to breathe. With shaking hands, she reached up and unlatched her helmet and let in fall to the ground, taking in the sounds, smells and sights of her unobstructed vision. The Ethereal was still in front of her, still waiting.

Toying with her.

With _them._

Iosif had also recovered and both of them exchanged a look, resolve filling both of them. If they were going to die, they would buy as much time for the city as possible. All they needed to do was buy a little more time for Annette and the soldiers to win.

Patricia turned her purple-tinted gaze to the Ethereal as she gathered what remained of her power. Time to give the Ethereal a fight it wouldn’t ever forget.

***

_Bronx, New York City_

They’d essentially left the marines to begin organizing the evacuation as they ran through the streets. Annette had no clue where they were going, all of the city seemed a maze to her, but Carmelita and Creed seemed to know well enough. They didn’t spend too much time helping the cowering and shell-shocked civilians they saw, but if they ran past at least one of them would shout to get moving.

“It’s clear behind us!” Annette yelled at a couple looking up at them, not sure if they were friendly or not. “Get moving!” She added a small psionic suggestion, making them start dashing behind her.

The aliens must have come through here, if the carnage and destruction was anything to go by. Annette was slightly concerned that one of the buildings would fall due to how bombed out some of them looked. At least some of the bottom floors were scorched, cracked and ruined to a degree that could only come from heavy weaponry.

The booming of a firing tank caught all their attention, and Carmelita immediately motioned them towards the sound. As they got closer the weapon and plasma fire became audible and close. There were still screams, but not as many as before. Which probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Three of them ahead!” Lesedi shouted, falling to one knee and raising her gauss sniper rifle.

Annette looked forward to see she was right. Her heart sank as she saw not three, but _six_ of the red-armored mutons creating a makeshift stronghold in an intersection. They’d stacked several cars on top of each other to provide some cover for their massive bodies.

“Scatter!” Creed ordered as three of the mutons turned to them and began opening fire.

Annette slid into cover behind a wrecked truck and peeked out. Creed, Nazar, Blake and Jamali were beginning to lay down some suppressive fire while Carmelita and Veronika took the opportunity to get closer.

 _“Assuming barrage position,”_ Sanya said from behind her. Annette glanced back at the other MEC, once more amazed by how _massive_ it was. There was a large cannon built into its back, and the arms and shoulders were packed with what she assumed to be missile launchers. It was actually bigger than Myra’s, who was also firing at the mutons.

After he said that, clamps came down from the sides of his feet, anchoring him to the ground. He raised his right arm, the launcher whirling and clicking into place. _“Firing barrage.”_

Three missiles shot out in quick succession and the smaller ones on his shoulders all fired simultaneously, ultimately sending nearly a dozen streaking explosives at the congregated mutons. Annette and several others let out a cheer as the area where the mutons were holed up went up in a booming symphony of fire and death.

She felt several die as they were struck by missiles and shrapnel, their minds unique enough for her to tell when they ceased to function. But there were still some alive, albeit wounded. “Four are left!” She yelled, standing up and gathering her power once more.

“Lock it down!” Creed roared as they simultaneously renewed their suppression of the surviving mutons, who were now all turned to fully face them. Their armor was scorched, dented, broken and bloodstained, but they showed no weakness as they returned fire vigorously.

Annette raised her hands to one of the mutons in the front, locking the location in her mind as the power ran through her. With a shout she unleashed the energy built inside her, direction it around the muton. It roared in pain as the energy began to tear the body apart, swatting the ethereal tendrils to no avail.

Her world narrowed to the screaming alien, the sounds of combat fading in her mind as she amped the intensity, breaking into its basic mental functions, amplifying every moment of pain beyond what it normally felt.

But it was taking too long. Superficial damage. It needed to die. She clenched her fist and directed the energy to manifest inside the muton itself. Within several seconds the alien fell to the ground and she released hold of the power and sank to the torn asphalt. Even as the battle continued raging around her, she took a moment to compose herself as everything swam in her field of vision.

She didn’t know how much more she could do. A scream perked her up again and she peeked over to see that Nazar had been hit in the face by a plasma blast, throwing his body onto the ground. He was dead. She looked at the other mutons, and noted that another one had died from their attack.

A tank fired and though she couldn’t see it, she saw its effects. One of the mutons stumbled to the side, golden blood gushing out of a new wound from the tank blast. It roared and turned to the offending vehicle and started firing.

“Moving up!” Lesedi called and dashed forward to get a shot lined up.

“Drop!” Samuel shouted as the muton still focused on them anticipated her move and fired in her direction. She heard the call too late and a large green bolt slammed into her chest and she spun to the ground.

Annette quickly tried sensing her. Yes, she was alive, but in pain.

“Get her help!” Annette called.

“On it!” Blake answered.

“Take that thing out, Myra!” Carmelita ordered as she continued firing barrage after barrage from her alloy cannon. These things just wouldn’t _die_.

 _“Complying,”_ she confirmed, and charged towards the last two, knocking one to the ground and following up with blast from her gauss cannon.

The combined firepower of Creed, Carmelita, Samuel and Veronika was enough to finally bring the last muton to its knees, and Carmelita finished up with two point-blank shots to its head.

“Clear!” She shouted, after looking around the street. All of them charged forward, and Annette blinked as she saw what remained of the marine detachment that had been sent here. They seemed to be almost completely wiped out. Their ranks were filled with dead soldiers and she saw at least four tanks that had been essentially disabled.

A trio rushed up to them, which Carmelita turned to face. “How many of you are left?” She demanded.

”Twelve and one tank,” the ranking one answered grimly, his face splashed with grime and blood. “We would have died if you hadn’t come.”

“We’ll handle the aliens,” Creed assured them, walking up. “Focus on getting the civilians to safety. More reinforcements are coming.”

“Are there any more hotspots?” Carmelita asked.

“I think these were the only ones in the Bronx,” the marine answered slowly. “But I don’t know for sure. There were probably some elsewhere. Maybe Times Square or Central Park.”

An explosion echoed from somewhere behind them. “Guess that’s where we’re headed next,” Creed muttered. “They have to be running low.”

 _“Hold that order for the moment,”_ the Commander suddenly interrupted. _“Annette how are you holding up?”_

She blinked. “Uh…alright. Sir!”

_“Don’t lie, I need to know.”_

She sighed. “I’m not sure how much more I can do.”

_“Thought as much. Carmelita, take a team and finish mopping up. Everyone else go help Patricia and Iosif. They need support now.”_

“Understood,” Carmelita confirmed.

“I’ll take Annette, Veronika, Myra and Sanya,” Creed said, turning towards Times Square. “I’ll also have our marine reinforcements coverage there as well. All goes well we should get there at roughly the same time.”

“Sounds good,” Carmelita confirmed. “Everyone else with me! Let’s finish these aliens!”

As they dashed off to the next pod of enemies, the rest of them dashed in the opposite direction. “Get there as fast as possible,” Creed instructed both MECs. “We don’t have time to spare!”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ Myra nodded, and both MECs dashed off ahead of them, far quicker than what they could keep up with.

One more fight. She could do it.

She had to.

***

The Hive Commander had been trifling compared to this.

The Ethereal could probably have ended the fight relatively soon, but instead seemed content to keep shooting energy at her while simultaneously trying to dominate her mind. His mind was continuously assaulting her splintering defenses, requiring her to stand there and focus all her energy on simply keeping him out.

If not for Iosif taking most of the physical assaults, she would have died or lost her mind. As it stood the pain that ravaged her body had finally reached a point where she was almost numb, she _felt_ her skin on fire, she _felt_ her limbs crack and break, but managed to lock it away as she focused on preventing the alien from taking complete control.

Then the pressure suddenly receded and the sights and sounds of the world came back in a rush as she fell to the ground. She hadn’t even noticed everything had gone dark, so preoccupied was she with the Ethereal. Everything seemed brighter, more piercing.

Her entire body shaking, she somehow managed to force herself to stand and face the towering Ethereal once more, who looked down on her dispassionately. “You are _resilient,_ psion,” he hissed, some grudging admiration emanating from him. “You know you cannot beat me, yet you persist regardless.”

“Shut up,” she spat, gathering what energy she could for another assault on his mind. “I thought you were powerful, yet you can barely stop _us_.”

It laughed, a sick, twisted laugh, filled with pain and terror in equal measure. “You do not believe that, psion. Insults are not weapons. You cannot hurt me and your words even less so.”

“Your wounds show otherwise,” Patricia shot back, directing her focus on the Ethereal, trying to box its mind to stop it from an attack on her or Iosif.

“Bodies can heal, psion,” the Ethereal stated coldly, the words echoing in her mind. “This pain is nothing compared to what I’ve endured before.”

Patricia tried and tried to break into his mind, but it was simple.

She just wasn’t strong enough.

She was too weak, too tired to realistically get through.

“That is correct,” the Ethereal whispered, malevolence seeping through his tone. “You are _not_. What are you hoping to achieve in my mind, psion? Would you even comprehend the things you saw? Would you even retain your _sanity_?”

He reached a hand toward Iosif and his body was suddenly lifted into the air and tossed backwards into a far wall. Patricia sensed he was alive, but he wasn’t going to help her anymore. She was suddenly pushed out of the Ethereal’s mind, and then trapped in her own. Its presence was on the edges, blocking any kind of psionic telepathy.

It was like losing one of her senses.

Then just as quickly, it withdrew.

“I see,” he mused, watching her fall to one knee from exhaustion. “Yes, you want to kill me. But you are also… _curious_. You want to _know_ what we are, you want to _understand_ how we think. What _drives_ us.”

To her surprise, he lowered himself to her level and extended a hand to grab her by the throat. With little effort, he stood, taking her with him, suspending her several feet above the ground. She was too tired, too exhausted to fight back, only hanging onto the arm, expect death any second.

“You impressed me,” he said. “You would have been useful to us, but that time has passed. But I will grant you one thing before you die. _Watch.”_

She gasped as he forced his way inside her mind, bringing with him images feelings and memories she had no names for. Everything faded away as she was hit with several scenes, each playing simultaneously, but also independently.

_White room, strapped, restrained, bound, captured. Impossible to escape. Dozens more around me, all similar, all captured. Betrayed, though not of their own will. Those of the synthesized. They ask questions, same questions over and over, same answers. No submission. The others lack the will, they lack the endurance to resist even if it will cost us everything._

_So I take their pain, rendering their potent machines useless. Saving the Collective in my own way, and it drives me mad, it almost breaks me. But I endure. They will come, find me, and then the traitors will be killed, and the synthesized pushed back. But until then, I will allow them to ravage me, take everything they can. But while relishing their rage, unable to learn what they want._

_It is worth it._

Patricia gasped as she saw the scene shift, same place, but she had the feeling more time had passed. She still wasn’t completely processing everything, but those restraints that had held others seemed less full.

_They have realized pain does not work. Not anymore, they know it is me. They’ve left me alone, and I know why. They have converted the others, turning them into traitors. So quickly and easily. It terrifies me that I’ll be next, and I know that is their goal. I cannot wait for rescue, they have held me too long. I will escape here, or die trying._

Now the entire scene changed. In front of her was a blue and green world. Similar to Earth, but not arranged the same. Everything around her was blurry, unfocused except for that.

_Our world, so peaceful from up here. Our last bastion, taken by the traitors and reduced us to mockeries of ourselves. Slaves with no will of their own other than the synthesized. The war is almost over, we will lose. It is inevitable. There are plans, contingencies, but first the end for us must come._

_Irony. We are powerful, but without control we are nothing. We are weak, empty. It is easy with my power amplified to take the minds of the traitors, taking their pain one last time, denying the army these synthesized desire. Here is comes…the end of the world._

The world turned to fire and Patricia felt the death of a species. Diluted as the memory was, the sheer intensity and scale almost made her lose her own grasp on her mind. Once that faded, everything rushed back, putting the helm of the Ethereal directly in front of her.

“Ultimately, psion, I believe we are more alike than either of us believed at first,” he said, sorrow tinging his voice, making Patricia realize that he’d experienced the same thing. “We will both do whatever it takes to preserve our kind. I have seen and felt mine die once, I will not allow it to happen again, no matter how many must die in the process.”

His grip on her throat tightened, and her vision began to go black.

A single shot rang out and the Ethereal stumbled. With the last of her strength, Patricia impressed one final command. _Drop._

She fell to the ground and she looked over to where the shot had come from. Myra charged forward, firing her gauss cannon at the Ethereal, who had stumbled back. Numb surprise came over her as something became apparent to her. Myra was almost impossible to sense without trying. She was _there_ but not like a living person. She existed, but lacked the typical characteristics of a mind.

How had she not realized that earlier? She _had_ known Myra was different, but never really put more thought into it. But it was going to save her life now. On the concrete, she pushed herself back as the Ethereal withdrew all four of his arms, purple energy running along them.

It was weakened, she could sense it. It wasn’t as strong as earlier. Even if pain didn’t debilitate it, it slowed it down. And it was still a body and subject to their failings. Blood had formed a small puddle where the Ethereal stood, and it couldn’t keep losing that much without consequences.

He clenched all four of his hands, her watching in dismay as the MEC began to be crushed, the metals, joints and weapons collapsing in on themselves. Several tanks burst, which she assumed contained flammable liquid and Ethereal motioned to the complete opposite direction, sending Myra flying that way.

Just in time for another shot to ring out going right into the Ethereal’s back. It roared and spun around, Patricia also looked behind to see Sanya’s MEC coming up, taking position and firing several small missiles at the Ethereal. It raised a hand to catch them, but instead simply deflected them into nearby buildings, shaking the ground whenever they hit.

She also became acutely aware that there were more people coming. People she knew. Annette. Creed. She heard a yell and saw Annette charge forward, encased in purple flame, manipulating tendrils of energy at the Ethereal who backed up as he surveyed the new threats.

Gauss fire rang out as Creed ordered the XCOM soldiers to fire at the Ethereal. “Focus fire!” She heard a voice behind her call, and looked behind once again to see what seemed to be a small army of marines behind the MEC, all firing their traditional weapons at the Ethereal.

All four hands were held up, as it tried to stop the sheer volume of fire from the two forces. The lower left one curled and glowed with purple energy as it gestured to the marine group. A whirling maelstrom of energy appeared in the middle of a group of five, tearing them apart within seconds. He motioned to several of the soldiers and several more fell, clutching their helmets and screaming.

How?

How could this thing die?

A low hum sounded overhead and she looked into the sky to see a small UFO streak across, stop above the Ethereal and slowly set down behind him.

Even as the rest of the soldiers kept firing, the Ethereal turned his gaze upon her, pinpointing the wounded woman on the ground. _You earned your victory, psion. Prepare for retribution._

He pulled all his arms back and pushed out, sending a wave of energy that send everyone stumbling back, and in the brief time they recovered, he turned boarded the UFO which sped off a few seconds later.

Patricia let her head rest against the asphalt, breathing heavily, disbelief and wonder coursing through her as the world swam around her. Unintelligible voices entered her ears, but she didn’t even try to make sense of them, instead closing her eyes and submitting to unconsciousness.

They’d done it.

They’d beaten an Ethereal.

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Hand of God

_Personnel_

 

Buck 1 ( _Squad Overseer)_ : Psion Patricia Trask

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 2: Specialist Carmelita Alba

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

 

Buck 3: Specialist Anius Creed

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

 

Buck 4: Specialist Samuel Roche

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

 

Buck 5: Specialist Fakhr al Din

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 6: Specialist Cai Wong

 **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 7: Psion Iosif Bronis

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 8: Specialist Blake Harkin

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 9: Specialist Lesedi Iminathi

 **Status:** Wounded (Estimated 5 Days)

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 10: Specialist Nazar Klim

 **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 11: Psion Alexei Feodor

 **Status:** Deceased

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 12: Specialist Jamali Muhammad

 **Status:** Active

**Kills: 0**

 

Buck 13: Specialist Latrell Moreau

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

 

Buck 14: Specialist Yeva Hurik

 **Status:** Wounded (Estimated 18 Days)

 **Kills:** 0

 

Buck 15: Specialist Veronika Slava

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

 

Buck 16: Psion Annette Durand

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

 

Buck 17: MEC Soldier Myra Rodriguez

 **Status:** Heavily Damaged (Estimated Repair Time: 20 Days)

 **Kills:** 3

 

Buck 18: MEC Soldier Sanya Olga

 **Status:** Online

 **Kills:** 2

 

Mission Director: The Commander

Pilot 1: Jason Olgard – Call sign: “Big Sky”

Pilot 2: Riley Ignis – Call sign: “Burning Sky”

Pilot 3: Barney Kimon – Call sign: “Gray Sky”

 

Artifacts Recovered:

-16x Muton Elite Corpses (Moderate Condition)

-20x Alien Alloys (Unsorted)

-32 Alien Weapon Fragments

-1x Vial of Ethereal Blood


	37. The Directive

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

Looking at just the numbers, most people would likely consider the terror attack to be a major disaster. The list of casualties numbered in the millions, and the infrastructure damage would require several times that amount for just beginning repairs. A large number of marines had also been killed before they had arrived. The NYPD had pretty much been wiped out by several of those muton elites targeting their headquarters.

And yet, he couldn’t look at this as anything but a victory.

That mission had come close to failing, but they’d managed to force an Ethereal to retreat. No small feat, which had admittedly been due to a lot of luck and the Ethereal’s seeming reluctance to treat them as a threat at first.

If the Ethereal had simply tried killing Patricia and her team at first, they wouldn’t have had a chance. But the Ethereal had been rather…talkative. Which raised several questions, and highlighted some disturbing implications.

At the very least, it confirmed once more that the Ethereals did not plan on wiping out humanity. They were to be used, though from what the Ethereal had said, they likely wouldn’t be averse to killing many of them if they posed a threat. But they had a plan, and that seemed more and more like it revolved around human psions.

By driving this Ethereal back, they were treading a dangerous line. This might be the final straw that would trigger the Ethereals to come in force. The Ethereal had considered Patricia too powerful to live, so he didn’t think it would be a stretch to think that the Ethereal would want to finish the job. He couldn’t wait anymore.

It was time to put things into motion.

“They are coming,” Bradford told him, walking to his side. “So, what will it be this time?”

“Something I’ve been working on,” the Commander said, turning to face him. “In the end, this attack may ultimately benefit us. The world has now seen us push back the alien forces several times, they will not deny the alien threat and that gives us political clout I intend to use.”

“I, ah,” Bradford looked slightly confused. “I’m not sure this will be shown as a victory. The casualty rates alone-“

“We pushed back an Ethereal,” the Commander interrupted firmly, raising a hand to cut him off. “That alone makes this a victory. You know what they can do. The Council knows as well. The civilians and media may not, but if they decide to pose that question, we simply ask them what would have happened if we hadn’t been there.”

Bradford sighed. “I don’t envy Van Doorn.”

The Commander’s lips curled up. “He can handle the media.” The door hissed open and they looked up to see Van Doorn and Jackson walk in. “Speaking of which, here he is.”

“Did I miss something?” Van Doorn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just discussing how you’re going to handle the press,” Bradford shrugged. “Just saying I’m glad that isn’t my specialty.”

“I already have a headache from reading some of the reporting on this,” Jackson muttered, rubbing her forehead. “Everyone is focused on the sheer numbers. I don’t think a lot of them realize it could have been much worse.”

“Civilians don’t think like we do,” the Commander dismissed. “In a way, it isn’t their fault. But as long as they aren’t interfering, they can continue their… _coverage_.”

“True,” Van Doorn nodded grimly, glancing at the Commander. “However, I think it might be time for the world to see the Commander of XCOM himself. Especially after this.”

“No,” the Commander stated flatly. “My first public appearance will not be reactionary. It will come when the time is right.”

Van Doorn pursed his lips. “And when will that be?”

The Commander met his gaze. “You’ll have a better idea when everyone gets here.”

“Has Patricia recovered fully?” Jackson asked, wringing her hand. “This seems a little…soon.”

“She’s tough,” the Commander stated. “Besides, I know she’ll want to hear this. I’ve talked with her. She insisted we do this as soon as possible.”

“How shocking,” Bradford commented dryly. “But she’s earned a break after that ordeal.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “But at the very least we’ve given the Ethereals pause. I’m concerned they’ll order a final invasion now, knowing we can stand against them. We need to act as soon as possible.”

The doors hissed open again and Vahlen, Shen and Zhang strode through quickly, Patricia lagging a few feet behind. She looked pale and drawn, but fully attentive, if slightly worse for wear. All of them gathered around the holotable and waited expectantly for him to address them. He straightened up and clasping his hands behind his back, began.

“Thank you all for coming so quickly,” he began, inclining his head toward them. “First let me introduce Arial Jackson, the newest addition to our Council. She’s been invaluable to Bradford and we’re going to need her skills going forward.”

“Thank you, Commander,” she answered gratefully, adopting his pose. “It’s an honor to be here.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “Moving on. New York and by extension, America, owes you a lot, Patricia. If you hadn’t delayed that Ethereal, the city would have fallen. Excellent work.”

“Thank Myra and Sanya too,” Patricia said, blushing slightly. “The Ethereal beat me. I would have died if not for them.”

“Hence why I said _delayed,_ ” the Commander noted with some amusement. “My point still stands. But there will be consequences for this victory. We can challenge the Ethereals now and they know it. An invasion is inevitable now. At this point, if that happens, we will lose, no matter how strong XCOM is. The United Nations will not be able to stop it, and neither will the superpowers of the world.”

He unclasped his hands and rested them on the holotable. “There is only one way humanity can survive the coming invasion, and that is as one united species.”

He paused, waiting for someone to state the obvious. “That seems highly optimistic,” Van Doorn commented slowly. “You have said previously that isn’t likely to happen.”

“Because it won’t, not on it’s own,” the Commander responded flatly, eyeing Van Doorn coldly. “So it must be _made_ to happen. If the world will not unite on its own, we will unite it ourselves. The United Nations has failed, and is a powerless shell of an organization. It is obsolete and must be replaced.”

Shen blinked. “How? More importantly, with _what_?”

The Commander smiled. “I’m glad you asked.” He turned around and walked to a desk where a stack of papers sat. He grasped the stack, walked back, and placed it in the middle of the holotable. The title page only had one word on it, in bold black letters.

ADVENT.

“I’ve been working on this over the past few months,” the Commander explained as they each picked up a copy. “The greatest failing of the United Nations was that it was powerless. Should this come to fruition, that will not be the case here. It needs to be refined for sure, but it will serve as a framework for an actual United Nations. Which I plan to start recruiting for today.”

“I must say,” Van Doorn said in disbelief as he read. “I did not realize your ambitions were so… _extensive._ ”

“This isn’t done about of ambition, but necessity,” the Commander stated. “If the world is to be united, it must be under one banner, one army and one order. Nationalism and isolation have no place here, and will only serve to drive us to extinction.”

“But what you’re suggesting…” Shen shook his head and disbelief as he looked through the pages. “You honestly believe that the nations will willingly give up their sovereignty?”

“Some of them, no, not at first,” the Commander admitted. “But we don’t need everyone not at first. We only need a few major players to establish ADVENT as a legitimate power. Once that is accomplished, others will join.”

“And if they don’t?” Bradford asked.

“Then there are decisions to be made,” the Commander stated with finality. “Of which will be discussed when the time comes. But if the choice is between a nation falling to the aliens or the intervention of ADVENT, then assimilation will happen.”

“And what of us?” Vahlen asked curiously. “XCOM?”

“XCOM will remain independent, no longer answering to either the Council or United Nations,” the Commander answered. “We will be as we should; an _ally_. We, as the spearhead against the aliens, in times of crisis, will be funded in full by ADVENT. Little will change for us, but now we will have a world ally we can trust.”

“That is an interesting name,” Jackson noted. “I think I’ve seen it before.”

“Quite possibly,” Zhang nodded. “It was the name of that Israeli operation we discovered.”

“Yes, and I quite liked it,” the Commander nodded. “I thought it was fitting. A new beginning for humanity.”

“Rather poetic,” Patricia commented.

“But Shen does have a point,” Van Doorn pointed out. “Smaller nations might willingly join this. But what of the larger ones? America and China come to mind.”

“China will not come around at first,” the Commander shook his head. “But the rest? Simple. Because they ultimately know there is no other choice. They know enough that anything less than a global alliance is pointless. They know that they will face chaos, corruption, fear when the invasion comes. And ADVENT will represent _stability_ and _order_ , something every nation strives for in times of crisis. If they can be convinced that their citizens will benefit, it will not take much more to convince them.”

“There is one problem I see,” Bradford said slowly, looking up at him. “The United Nations isn’t just going to vanish.”

“No, it won’t,” the Commander agreed. “Which is why when the time comes, it must be removed.”

Van Doorn sucked in his breath. “You’re suggesting…”

“We don’t have a choice,” the Commander stated. “The United Nations cannot be reformed. It is too big, too bloated and corrupt. We lack the time for anything other than a restart, where we fix their mistakes.” The Commander held up a finger. “But that will not come yet. The Ethereals need to think everything is normal. We need to prepare from behind the scenes, and when the aliens invade, initiate this Directive.”

“Let’s say you manage this,” Shen said, frowning. “It needs a leader. Who could possibly run this? You?”

“No.” The Commander disputed firmly. “I have no desire to lead the world. But I have candidates, some who might be capable of managing a coalition this diverse. There will not be as much dispute within ADVENT. All nations will be held to one standard and set of rules. There will be no more ‘cultural exceptions’ there will standards each country must meet. Failure to do so will have consequences.”

All of them stood in silence as they continued reading the document, which unlike his previous contingencies and protocols, was fairly lengthy. “I would say this is a disturbing direction to go,” Van Doorn said slowly. “But you’re right. We can’t afford to wait and we don’t have a choice.”

“Correct,” the Commander affirmed. “And it’s time to get started. Jackson? Set up the meetings. It’s time to introduce the leaders of the world to the new United Nations.”

***

_Germany, Berlin_

Germany was noticeably different from his last visit. Admittedly, that had been in a remote area, not the new center of government. But he was fairly sure that it hadn’t been under military lockdown, with soldiers patrolling the streets in formation. While he did approve of the security, at the moment, this seemed like overkill.

It had been too long since he’d chatted with the current Chancellor, but he’d understandably been busy. Though in that time he was concerned that the power might have gotten to him, if he really was cracking down on the dissent, and looking out the window, it wasn’t too hard to imagine him utilizing the soldiers at his disposal.

Although it likely wasn’t done out of malice. Probably. Habicht hadn’t struck him as a particularly tyrannical person, but he could very well be wrong. Regardless, he didn’t think it would take _that_ much for convince him to follow the Directive, especially since he was the one putting it together. Germany had an opportunity to be a positive force, and the Commander didn’t think Habicht would miss that.

The car pulled to a stop and the Commander got out and was escorted inside by four German soldiers, none of whom spoke to him. Several minutes and checkpoints later, he was escorted in front of a nondescript room, and motioned to go inside.

He entered and there stood the current Chancellor. Ahren Habicht turned to face him as the door opened. He looked worse than the last time they’d spoken, though that was likely due to the stress of the job. He knew that Habicht had likely had many sleepless nights trying to bring his country under control.

“Commander,” he greeted cordially, inclining his head. “Good to see you again.”

“Same to you, Chancellor,” the Commander answered, taking the extended hand and giving a firm shake. “We have quite a bit to talk about.”

Habicht’s lips twitched. “I’d imagine so. Since you’re still here, I assume that the war against the aliens is proceeding well. I see that you were able to salvage the attack on New York. Regardless of what some say, it could have been worse.”

“On that we agree,” the Commander nodded. “XCOM has accomplished much since we last spoke. We have reasons for why the aliens are here, and more importantly, who is leading them.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Truly? That’s excellent news!”

“They are interested in us, specifically,” the Commander continued, pulling out a flash drive. “They want an army of humans in preparation for some cataclysmic event we are still unsure of.”

“That would explain why they’ve been reluctant to wipe us out,” Habicht nodded thoughtfully. “Though even still, why wait?”

“To test us, as far as we can tell,” the Commander explained. “I presume you’ve heard of the psionic phenomenon that some of the aliens have exhibited?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Though very little. From the reports from New York, it sounds like there were several displays. By humans.”

“Correct,” the Commander confirmed. “They have an interest in human psionics specifically, and I believe want to push us to see how far they can advance. Though I think we might have gone beyond what they were expecting. There is a boundary of power our psions have crossed, and they now pose a threat.”

“So they might decide to abandon their testing,” Habicht finished grimly. “We are not ready. I’ve attempted to strengthen Germany’s military, but we are not nearly advanced enough to put up a long-term campaign.”

“As is the rest of the world,” the Commander noted. “There is a solution, but first do you have other questions?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “These leaders. Who are they?”

“They are called Ethereals,” the Commander answered. “Powerful psions who are said to be able to single-handedly conquer planets. They are few, but very dangerous. Ordinary armies can’t fight them like a traditional enemy. Even XCOM would have lost without our psions and MECs.”

“An Ethereal attacked New York, yes,” Habicht recalled grimly. “I knew I didn’t recognize the alien. Or the others, for that matter.”

“Yes, the psionic alien was an Ethereal,” the Commander confirmed, handing him his tablet with images taken from the helmet cams. “The others appear to be the elite of the mutons. Enhanced in pretty much every way.”

“A royal guard?” Habicht guessed as he looked through the images. “That is worrying, especially since it only took that few to destroy so much of the city.”

“Possibly,” the Commander shrugged. “I wouldn’t rule it out. But simply put, the militaries of the world do not have the technology or weaponry to adequately defend their countries.”

“Then I suppose that’s where you come in,” Habicht commented wryly, setting the tablet down, looking the Commander in the eye. “You wouldn’t come simply to catch up.”

“Correct,” the Commander took a step forward and pulled out the Directive and placed the copy on the table. Habicht frowned as he picked it up, an eyebrow raised as he read the cover.

“What is this?” He asked, looking at the Commander.

“A solution,” the Commander answered. “There is only one way we can ultimately stand against the aliens. That is as one species, one army and one power. Individual countries will be removed one by one when the aliens come. Both of us know the United Nations has failed in its purpose, and it is an empty shell dominated by politics.” He nodded towards the document. “This is the replacement.”

“Really?” Habicht sounded curious, but guarded. “I’m curious, what exactly would be gained from such a coalition?”

“National loyalties and boundaries would not exist for each country involved,” the Commander held up the flash drive. “This is all of our research and engineering on the various alien components and weapons. You are not the only country to have developed advances in alien tech, but if all these advances could be combined, it would greatly increase our chances, no?”

He paused for a moment. “Germany would be protected not just by XCOM now, but the entirety of the ADVENT army, which would be comprised of all member nations. It will be as the United Nations was meant to be. With weight, authority and unity. There will be no more favoritism, no more corruption. Only one organization working towards the betterment and protection of humanity.”

“You know, I never pictured you as an idealist,” Habicht said, amused. “You know as well as I that what you want will never happen.”

The Commander smiled. “Not perfectly, no, and certainly not at first. You see, a main difference is that breaking the law will no longer be tolerated. Those who fail to abide by the international laws established by ADVENT will be punished accordingly. XCOM will initially provide support as well. Our psions will ensure that dissent and corruption is removed accordingly.”

“I see,” Habicht noted, frowning. “Then the nations no longer retain their sovereignty, if I understand correctly.”

“No,” the Commander stated flatly. “They will not. Not in the sense they can do whatever they wish without impunity. This is…similar in scope to the United States, in the sense that each state has a government, but are ultimately answerable to the federal officials.”

“Considering how different some of your states are, I’m not sure how effective that will be,” Habicht pointed out.

“I know,” the Commander agreed. “It will be more… _restrictive_ than the United States. But this is necessary. Humanity, nor ADVENT will tolerate idiocy and partisanship anymore, nor can we afford to. Because the most compelling argument I can put forward is this: If we do not unite as one species, we will die. Do you disagree?”

Habicht pursed his lips and that was all that really needed to be said. “No,” he finally said. “We agree on that. Though who is going to lead this? You?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “I will retain control of XCOM. That is still to be determined, but they will be qualified for the position. But that isn’t what needs to be decided now. Will Germany be a part of this?”

“Some of my cabinet will be adamantly opposed,” Habicht noted, looking down at the document. “But it is as you said. We can’t afford to wait. Germany will join, it will happen.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded, satisfied. “But that will also require you to make some adjustments of your own.”

Habicht raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Namely, your crackdown on the media,” the Commander explained, hardening his voice. “You’re getting very close to a dangerous line, and one I won’t allow you to cross.”

“Really,” Habicht replied calmly. “I would have thought you’d have understood better than most my response. The media twists everything I say into whatever narrative fits their agenda. I’m certain they’ve made me out to be the next Hitler. All this accomplishes is stirring up the populace and throwing us right back into the situation we were in before the attack.”

“There is a difference between calling you the next Hitler and actually reporting what you do in a neutral or negative light,” the Commander disputed flatly. “You _did_ impose martial law, yes? Curfews? More power to the police? The populace has a right to know that, even if they dislike you for it. And if you’re really bothered by their opinion, maybe you should consider if you’re right to begin with.”

Habicht pursed his lips. “Implying I have time to waste on pointless debates like this.”

“You’re the Chancellor of Germany,” the Commander reminded him. “And yes, that does include dealing with your opponents and detractors. Ignoring, or worse, silencing them, will only hurt you. My suggestion will be to hold another conference. Defend your position, and if it’s a sound one, that will silence most of your detractors.”

The Commander looked at the document in Habicht’s hand. “And as for those who insist on publishing provably false information…under ADVENT they will be dealt with. Independent media is important, but unrestricted is a mistake.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Habicht finally said. “You’re lucky, in a sense. XCOM doesn’t need to justify its decisions.”

The Commander chuckled. “Oh, the Council certainly demands justifications. The ones I give them sometimes aren’t satisfying, but they are defendable. At this point, I think they’ve accepted that. Once this Directive goes into effect, I hope to never have to deal with the Council again.”

Habicht raised an eyebrow. “And just _how_ are you going to dissolve the Council?”

“That’s my concern,” the Commander answered. “All that matters is preparing your country. We have months at most, and time is of the essence.”

“That it is,” Habicht agreed. “It will be good to work with you more directly in the future.”

They sealed it with a firm handshake. “As do I, Chancellor. Good luck with Germany.”

***

_Brasília, Brazil_

It wasn’t surprising, but the Commander still found it interesting that when military leaders assumed normally civilian positions, the first thing they did was use the military to retain control. It was intelligent and a good use of resources, if giving the impression of tyranny. Yet in this case, as with Germany, there were extenuating circumstances which warranted the crackdown.

The difference here was that he was unfamiliar with Marshal Luana Russo. From her actions and file she seemed decisive, firm and would likely approve of a military-run government. Not exactly a good sign for democracy, but the Commander knew he had to choose his battles. Should Brazil become part of ADVENT, that would bolster their overall forces dramatically, especially if Russo focused on building the army itself.

If the Marshal insisted on it remaining a police-state for the time being, he might as well take advantage of it. He already had an advantage going in, as he knew that Russo would already have a degree of respect for him due to his accomplishments just in XCOM. He was still undecided if he should reveal his identity, in the event she was unaware.

Perhaps. But she might be the type to exploit that if given the opportunity. Her view on the aliens was ultimately going to determine what role she was to play in the future. A pure nationalist would not work, as the entire existence of ADVENT required cooperation from multiple nations. If she was overly antagonistic towards the idea…well, he could try and highlight the benefits as best he could, and if not…unfortunately, she would be replaced.

All that was really needed was to convince Brazil to join in the first place. Once the papers were signed, they would be bound by a universal international law and would be subject to the laws in place. Many of which included failsafes against dictators and power-grabbing politicians. Even though each country that joined would review the Directive he’d written, he had very little intention of changing the core parts.

The military van he was inside pulled to a stop and a door opened for him and he stepped out onto the sun-bleached concrete. “Follow us,” one of the soldiers ordered, motioning him into what he assumed was a government building of some kind. It seemed deserted as he was escorted through, no citizens or receptionists filled the rather ornate rooms.

Only soldiers.

They stepped into an elevator and one of the soldiers hit the button directing them to the highest floor. None of them seemed particularly interested in talking to him, so he remained silent. No need to possibly antagonize them, and it was just as likely they were under orders. A few seconds later the steel doors slid open and he was escorted out into a hallway.

Yes, they were definitely getting closer to the Marshal. Honestly, the amount of guards here was excessive. She seemed awfully paranoid if this was the standard guard; of course it could be for him, but still, the amount of security seemed borderline ridiculous.

They finally reached a door locked by a keypad. The leading soldier quickly typed in the code, and then opened the door. The Commander stepped through, and shut the door behind him. Turning around he was met with a rather spectacular view of the city. Floor to ceiling windows gave a clear view of the streets, buildings and people below them.

Marshal Luana Russo stood near the center, in front of a large empty oak table that sat in the middle of the room. She was about half a head shorter, but cut an imposing figure regardless. Her graying hair was professionally cut and pulled back into a single ponytail.

Upon hearing the door open, she turned to the noise and moved to walk over and greet him. “Commander,” she said, her voice strong and accented. “A pleasure to finally meet the esteemed leader of XCOM.”

“The same to you, Marshal,” the Commander answered, shaking her hand once and inclining his head. “Or would you prefer General?”

“We are at war, Commander,” she responded grimly. “Marshal is my title, and I will retain it until this war ends.”

“With the aliens,” the Commander felt the need to confirm.

She snorted. “Do you see another threat?”

The Commander gave a wry smile. “Depends on the day, Marshal. I have several enemies.”

“No doubt the cowards within the United Nations,” she guessed disdainfully, her face wrinkling. “I am admittedly surprised they even entertained utilizing you, despite their disdain for your tactics.”

Well, that answered that question. “I see you know who I am.”

“Admittedly one reason I wanted to speak with you,” she confirmed, giving him a humorless smile. “The bureaucracy of our government was sometimes useful to me. The former president wasn’t exactly thrilled with you spearheading XCOM. He considered you a… _liability_. He was weak man swayed by public opinion and the empty suits he surrounded himself with. Fortunately I have no such reservations.”

“In what way, Marshal?” He asked carefully.

“You are a man who has plans beyond XCOM,” she stated firmly. “If you see a problem, you will fix it. And it will be _your_ way. Your tactics are as effective as they are brutal, and I can respect and appreciate that, especially when the fate of our species is at stake. I suspect you have a plan to defeat the aliens, and I want to know what that is.”

Well, this was going much better than he’d anticipated. “Then first I would like to extend the offer of a direct alliance to Brazil.”

“Consider it done,” she confirmed with a nod. “With that out of the way, tell me why else you are here. A simple alliance could be done through our representatives, but you came here for more than that.”

“While you are correct that I did come for more than this, that isn’t entirely correct,” the Commander said, smiling slightly. “Alliances should be established face-to-face, no middlemen. I still would have regardless. But in this case, you are also correct.”

He pulled out a copy of the Directive and held the rolled copy in his hand. “Tell me, Marshal, you have control of Brazil. What exactly are you going to do?”

She pursed her lips. “I have dealt with the corruption in the government. I plan next to remove the entrenched criminals and cartels that are established. My predecessor was lax when it came to enforcing laws, I will not make the same mistake.” She turned to look out the window. “Once Brazil is under complete control, I will build up our army to prepare to face the aliens.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”

She snorted. “Preferably with your help in some cases, Commander. But I know XCOM is not an army, and both of us know that we will receive no support from supposed allies. They will prepare their own countries, they will not spare any for us.”

He smiled. “Perhaps this will mitigate that concern,” he said, handing the copy to her. “Take a look.”

She bit her lip as she read through the first pages, looking slightly surprised as she read. “Ambitious, Commander. Ambitious and dangerous.”

“Humanity needs to unite if we are to survive,” the Commander stated. “You understand the aliens are the only threat that matters. The world is larger than Brazil, and we need as many as possible.”

“ADVENT,” she mused. “A curious name. I presume it stands for something?”

“I’m sure someone will ascribe some complicated meaning,” the Commander shrugged. “But no. It is just a name. What’s more important is what it symbolizes. A new beginning, without the constraints and problems of the past.”

“You do not lack imagination,” she noted wryly, lowering her hand. “A united world. What the United Nations tried to do, but failed. I approve. You understand that there will be opposition to this, yes? The nations are not going to join simply because you ask.”

The Commander was silent for a few moments. “You seem to understand necessity, Marshal, so I will be blunt. I know that this will be rejected by many, but sometimes, humanity must be saved from itself. ADVENT will be used to unite the human race, through diplomacy or otherwise.”

She appraised the hardened war criminal. “I see. You do not make light insinuations, and I suspect few would approve of such actions. But as it stands, I see the necessity. Though I suspect you will not lead this organization, correct?”

“No,” the Commander said. “I will not wield that much power. I will remain Commander of XCOM, and be an ally to ADVENT. But I will not assume command once it is established. I may be the founder of this, but I will step back once the leadership and council is established.”

“Unfortunate,” Luana mused thoughtfully. “Though I suppose it is for the best. I feel that XCOM will be the deciding factor in this war, and that is where you belong.”

“I agree,” the Commander said. “That, and I have no interest in leading the world.”

“Yet you would set it up in your image,” she noted.

He gave a small smile. “It was necessary.”

“The word of the day, it seems,” she commented, lifting the document again. “Consider me interested, in which case we should discuss details.”

“Gladly,” the Commander answered. “Ask your questions.”

***

_Pyongyang, North Korea_

Iseul had some grudging respect in his eyes as he looked up from reading the Directive. He’d spent the last half hour looking it over, which was far more than the others he’d shown had done. The Commander didn’t mind in the least. He already had a sizable number of countries who were likely to begin preliminary phases, but North Korea would be a _very_ useful boost, especially if the United States or Russia didn’t initially join.

Although he could already guess what issues Iseul was going to raise.

“I’m impressed,” he finally said, setting the document down on the black wooden table. “You have actually attempted to not only fix the flaws within the United Nations, but democracy itself.”

“I suppose you’re disappointed that I kept that part in, yes?” The Commander asked, slightly amused.

“You introduce an unnecessary risk to your proposed government,” Iseul pointed out flatly. “Both of us know that the human population at large is not as intelligent or rational as we like to think.”

“And neither are all leaders benevolent, intelligent or rational either,” the Commander responded either. “You are perhaps the only ‘dictator’ I’ve witnessed that actually isn’t in it just for himself. But you also know that you are an anomaly.”

“I’ve dedicated my life to improving my country,” Iseul stated. “In the hypothetical scenario where I join this new world government, I would be putting that at risk.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “You read the document, which means that you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Unless you’ve lied about the contentment level of your people, I doubt you really have to worry about competition.”

“Likely not at first,” Iseul admitted. “But afterwards people are going to get ideas-“

“And like is also outlined, any candidate wishing to run for public office will be qualified,” the Commander interrupted. “Outside media presence will also be restricted so as not to unduly influence the population.”

Iseul rubbed his forehead and scowled. “Both of us know if I even entertain the idea of holding an election, not only will whoever my opponent is receive international backing, but should I win, I will simply be accused of rigging the results.”

The Commander sighed. “As the election will be done through ADVENT, which will technically be an independent party, that will cut down that argument. Additionally, candidates will not be allowed to receive funding from international entities unless decided upon earlier. As you also know, because you _read_ it, any candidate caught breaking these rules will be struck from the ballot. Simple.”

He pursed his lips. “Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, Commander,” he sighed. “Yet you do have a point, and have made a genuine effort to remove the worst aspects of democracy. But why allow it to begin with, I am curious as to that?”

“Because people deserve some say in their government,” the Commander answered firmly. “Pure democracy is impractical and an unrestricted republic is dangerous. A controlled democracy will ensure that the citizens at least have the illusion of control, while at the same time limiting the pool of candidates to those who are actually deserving of them.”

“I can imagine the riots in America,” Iseul commented dryly. “I cannot see your political parties accepting something that virtually eliminates their power.”

“Congress will be dealt with,” the Commander assured him. “But we’re not here to discuss America. So yes, you’ll have to make some concessions to be part of ADVENT. But I’m sure you’ve considered the benefits.”

“Namely, that this debate is pointless if the aliens wipe us out,” Iseul pointed out ruefully. “Yes, I’ve guessed that was your angle. It is one you are right on, but I suppose I should be grateful that you actually put some effort into your proposal.”

“Do remember that any of the changes you dislike are contingent upon us succeeding,” the Commander reminded him. “Changing governments’ mid-war is a bad idea, so the state of emergency clause will remain active until the last alien is killed.”

“A good thing, I suppose,” Iseul conceded. “I’m also glad you had the wisdom to remove the limiting aspects of the United Nations.”

The Commander snorted at that. “Yes, this Directive doesn’t mesh well with the ones in place. Rendering the Geneva Convention null and void was a necessity.”

“And one long overdue,” Iseul nodded. “Coincidentally, your replacement guidelines are much more reasonable.”

“I’m so very glad you approve,” the Commander answered sarcastically. “Back to the topic at hand. Ultimately, think of what you gain from this. For the first time in decades, North Korea will have a voice in the direction of the world.”

“For some reason, I don’t see that going over very well,” Iseul pointed out, crossing his arms. “There is a sizable percentage of people who hate me for no other reason than my position.”

The Commander’s lips curled up. “Public opinion does not sway me, you know that. ADVENT will need diversity in people and opinions. People who take issue with that are wrong, and when it comes time to defend Earth, I want you and North Korea working with us.”

Iseul was silent for a few moments, turning around to contemplate his options. When he turned around once more, his face was filled with grim resolve. “You have treated me and my country with respect, Commander. That is more than most, and is a major reason why North Korea will follow your Directive. I do so with the understanding that you have not exaggerated or lied about anything we have discussed. Should that be rendered false, so will everything we have agreed upon together.”

“I keep my word, Supreme Leader,” the Commander answered, looking him straight in the eye. “I do not lie to my allies. Not when it comes to their countries.”

“Then for your own sake and for that of my country, I hope you are right,” Iseul answered calmly. “Then if it is decided, I want contacts with all added ADVENT member nations.”

“You will have them,” the Commander promised. “Along with all of XCOM’s research on alien artifacts and technology.” The Commander rested a hand on the table, a finger absentmindedly tapping the wood. “With your addition, I would suggest we begin production for the unified ADVENT army. Since your soldiers are the most advanced in terms of armor, I would like to make that the standard for the soldiers of ADVENT.”

“I would not disagree,” Iseul answered, inclining his head. “While I do appreciate that the work my scientists and engineers have done has not gone unnoticed, we lack the number of alloys to sufficiently mass-produce it.”

“XCOM has an ample supply,” the Commander answered with a nod. “While we won’t donate _all_ of it, with some retooling of the formula, it should be sufficient for several hundred thousand soldiers. A good start.”

“My scientists will begin working on reworking the formula to serve our needs,” Iseul confirmed. “I believe that our nations should begin coordinating as soon as possible as well. Although one particular question that has arisen is when ADVENT will be publically unveiled?”

“When the United Nations falls,” the Commander answered simply. “You will know when it happens.”

Iseul raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on that. “Then I hope that day comes sooner than later.”

The Commander held his gaze. “It will come when the time is right.”

***

_Tel Aviv, Israel_

This was going to be an interesting conversation for several reasons, namely because it was time to discuss Israel’s own Advent operation. He suspected that the Prime Minister wasn’t going to be happy that he’d been spied upon, although he’d likely understand. Nowinski was practical, and would likely do little more than frown since he knew the only reason he was moving forward with this was because of XCOM.

Although Nowinski would likely change his tone when he heard just what he had to say.

Just as last time the Israelis had not informed him to where he was headed, but the Commander was fairly sure they had left Tel Aviv. His last ride hadn’t lasted this long, which meant they were likely headed to an off-site base. There were only a few possibilities, but the Commander had the suspicion that this was completely new.

The soldiers riding with him were also silent, with desert gear and masks covering their faces preventing him from reading them. They were armed for heavy combat, which he noted with interest. The military forces that had been there to greet him were also more numerous than last time.

After what felt like hours, they finally pulled to a stop, and the soldiers beside him opened up the door and after leaving, motioned him to step outside. He did, and found himself in a fully operational military base.

Hundreds of soldiers moved around him, all clad in their new armor XCOM Intelligence had noted, together with their unique helmets. Patrols were marching in formations, others were in training, and even more were guarding the various barracks and command centers. None of it looked _permanent_ , but it was sufficient for a beachhead.

“This way, Commander,” one of the soldiers prompted, her tone allowing no time for questions. The Commander nodded and he was led through the dirt and sand towards one building which was slightly elevated above the others. Probably the central command center.

They stepped up the wooden steps, some of them creaking from their weight, and when the soldier entered the code, the Commander nodded his thanks and stepped into the building. It was bare and practical. No decorations lined the room or walls, only maps of various locations were hung up, many with scribblings of Hebrew on them and arrows. There were several tables set up around the room, with discarded books, tablets and papers on them. In the lower left corner was a moderate-sized TV which was currently turned off, likely for outside news updates.

The main table held much of the same as the rest of the room. Maps, writing utensils, electronics were scattered on it, with Prime Minister Nowinski looking over another map, his hands resting on the table as he looked down. Unlike the previous times, he was dressed in tan and white military gear, and had clearly been here for some time.

He looked up as the Commander approached. “You’ve been busy,” the Commander commented. “I didn’t expect to be brought to your latest military base.”

“I thought you would be curious to see how we’ve been adapting the alien tech for our own uses,” he answered evenly, straightening up. “It has not gone to waste, as you can see.”

“Clearly,” the Commander answered neutrally. “Although I have to wonder why you’re keeping it so hidden. An operation like this would be best accomplished in Tel Aviv, correct?”

“Both of us know that would attract attention,” Nowinski defended evenly. “Unwanted attention from the United Nations, as well as every other country in the Middle East. Israel does not have the time, resources of patience to deal with their political questions or outrage.”

The Commander gave him a humorless smile as he began walking towards Nowinski. “While that may be true, I think there is another reason. I’ve seen these camps before, Prime Minister, I recall quite a few of them being developed during the War on Terror.” He stopped in front of the table, on the side opposing the Prime Minister.

“But they were not used strictly for training,” he continued slowly. “They were fortresses; beachheads for attacks against Caliphate-controlled cities. I suspect this isn’t the only one, you likely have more constructed around the Middle East. For what, I wonder?”

Nowinski raised an eyebrow. “If you have something to accuse me of, say it.”

“I know what you’re planning,” the Commander revealed, pulling out the first document. “Do you recognize this?” He tossed the document XCOM Intelligence had recovered from their mission. Nowinski’s face visible hardened as he picked it up and read to confirm it was what he believed it was.

“How did you acquire this?” He asked slowly, quietly, clear suspicion and anger in his eyes as he looked at the Commander.

“I prefer to keep tabs on my allies,” the Commander answered evenly. “I know what you’ve wanted, and I also prefer not to make my life difficult. Can you imagine how your crusade against the Middle East would affect XCOM, hmm? We are publically _allied_ to Israel, and this is _not_ what the world needs right now. Perhaps if you had decided to tell me, I might have felt otherwise. But since you wouldn’t inform me of your plans, I needed to find out myself.”

“Then I suppose what happens next is up to you,” Nowinski said slowly, resignation in his voice as he lowered the paper to the table. “Are you here to blackmail me? Dissolve our alliance?”

“No,” the Commander refuted, shaking his head. “I have no wish to dissolve our alliance. I do agree with your ultimate goals; the Middle East must be brought under control, and Israel is the best to do so. But you are not going about it the right way.”

Nowinski actually looked somewhat surprised. “And what _is_ the right way?” He asked slowly, curiously.

“You lack the manpower, for starters,” the Commander began. “Israel is not a small army, but even with the advancement in your technology, you cannot hope to hold countries like Iran, Iraq, Palestine or Saudi Arabia simultaneously.”

“We have more than soldiers,” Nowinski reminded him.

“The Mossad and Kidon are not enough either,” he refuted. “And I think you know this, otherwise this would have been done months ago.”

“As much as you seem to value our alliance, I doubt you’re volunteering your soldiers,” Nowinski said slowly.

“No, XCOM will remain apolitical unless absolutely necessary,” the Commander answered with a smile. “However, that does not mean that others would.”

“I also doubt that the United States would support us either,” Nowinski added, furrowing his eyebrows. “They almost withdrew their embassy after Palestine, and while President Treduant might support us, I suspect Congress will not. They cannot be relied upon.”

“Perhaps I’ll speak about their support for Israel when I speak to the President,” the Commander mused. “But I do think there is another option, provided that you would be willing to concede some territory.”

“Go on.”

“With some negotiation, I believe Russia might be willing to engaging in a joint military operation,” the Commander said. “President Savvin would not oppose a Middle East being brought under control, and would likely prefer it done before the aliens begin a final invasion.”

“Russia…” Nowinski mused thoughtfully, looking down on the map. “Yes, they would likely keep some of it for themselves, but…perhaps.”

“That would be my suggestion,” the Commander stated. “But you have a bigger problem. Namely that you need a good reason to begin this conquest in the first place. Neither XCOM nor the world will tolerate an unprovoked war.”

“There are enough who resent us for that not to be an issue,” Nowinski responded coldly. “They simply need motivation…and an opportunity.”

“Be very careful if you proceed down that route,” the Commander warned. “If it goes wrong, no one will intercede for you.”

“Your XCOM Intelligence has several of my Kidon operatives,” Nowinski responded easily, a cold glint in his eyes. “You know how effective they are.”

“For sure,” the Commander agreed. “But there is a more important matter to discuss. While useful for order, your conquest is ultimately meaningless when the aliens come.”

“I have not forgotten the aliens,” Nowinski answered. “Although they have been quiet, I believe this latest attack signifies a new phase in their plan.”

“As do I,” the Commander agreed grimly. “Which means that no one has any time to waste. An invasion is coming, not these skirmishes they had been performing. One which will overwhelm us unless we are united as one species.”

Nowinski raised an eyebrow. “Unusually idealistic of you, Commander. Especially since both of us know that unification will never happen. If the War on Terror wasn’t enough to bring people together, I’m unsure even a species-wide extermination will either, or it will be too late.”

“You’re right,” the Commander nodded. “It won’t happen, not on its own. Which means that it must be _made_ to happen. Which is what I propose.” He pulled out yet another copy of the Directive and handed it to him. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed the name. I found it fitting.”

“ADVENT,” Nowinski mused, scratching his chin. He continued reading through, his expression difficult to read even with the Commander’s enhanced vision. After perhaps a quarter-hour later, he finally looked up. “I see your tendency to fix problems is more… _expansive_ than I gave you credit for.”

“The United Nations has failed and needs to be replaced,” the Commander stated. “This will at least give us a fighting chance.”

“Provided it works in the first place,” Nowinski pointed out. “I approve, but you know that this and the United Nations cannot coexist.”

“I know,” the Commander answered simply.

Nowinski got the implication clearly. “I see.”

“And should I expect Israel to become a part of this?” The Commander asked.

“Knowing how you work, I would say yes,” Nowinski said grimly. “You don’t solve problems halfway. Any country that won’t join will eventually be dealt, and unlike the United Nations, ADVENT will have the means to do so.”

“Only if their refusal threatens the human species,” the Commander corrected, feeling like that was an important distinction. “And I will also remind you that I will not be leading ADVENT. XCOM is my priority. It will be up to the Chancellor of ADVENT to decide what to do with independent states.”

“You have created it,” Nowinski simply said. “You will always wield influence over it.”

“I will,” the Commander conceded. “But it will not be misused.”

“I suppose we shall see,” Nowinski muttered. “The world is in for interesting times.”

“We are already in interesting times,” the Commander said, smiling slightly. “Unfortunately, it’s going to get more _interesting_ before this is over.”

“That it will,” Nowinski agreed wistfully. “This has been an… _illuminating_ conversation, Commander. I wish you luck in accomplishing your goals.”

The Commander inclined his head. “Same to you, Prime Minister.”   

***

_Moscow, Russia_

There were some perks to being the Commander of XCOM. When he wanted to speak to someone, everyone made every effort to accommodate him as soon as possible. This was excellent from an efficiency perspective, and was something that he respected.

On the other hand, it was pretty damn tiring.

The Commander suppressed a yawn as he was driven through Moscow. Right, now to make yet another speech on the benefits and necessity of one united humanity. Though the game was now changed slightly. He had all the smaller nations he wanted, and now it was time to focus on the big ones.

Pretty much all the Council Nations barring America and Russia he was leaving until the UN was dealt with. All it would do is attract suspicion and bring all his enemies coming down upon him. No, the last thing he needed was anything like this going public. So that meant no EU, India or Japan at first. He had a feeling once a new organization emerged from the ashes of the United Nations, that they would latch themselves to ADVENT rather quickly.

However, for that to really work he needed either Russia or the United States to join. Oddly enough, he was thinking that the United States was going to hold the most resistance, simply with how the government was set up. President Savvin was likely not going to be happy with the reduced sovereignty of each country, as nationality was a large point of pride for Russians, but he was practical and that was what made the Commander believe he’d ultimately come around.

To his surprise, the van stopped in front of what looked like a small restaurant. The soldiers with him motioned him out and after looking around, he also noted that the soldiers appeared to be guarding the unimpressive building. He sniffed. A steakhouse? Well, it made for an interesting change of pace. He walking forward and stepped into the building.

Appearances turned out to be mostly corrected. Definitely a local steakhouse, with an open dining area and a bar. An interesting combination, although this _was_ Russia. President Savvin was leaning against the bar itself, chatting in laughing with someone who he assumed was the owner. How nice, the Commander had never really thought about most world leaders having friends so…beneath them, status wise.

It hadn’t exactly been an issue for him, though he really didn’t have friends outside his soldiers, but it was rare for people like Savvin to retain ordinary friendships with regular people. Both of them looked up as he approached, the other man looking decidedly unimpressed as he appraised him. “он собирается платить?” He asked, seemingly grumpy.

“не волнуйтесь, вы будете компенсированы,” Savvin answered with a chuckle. “Будьте осторожны, хотя, он американец.”

The man smiled at that, shook his head and walked into the kitchen. “I hope I wasn’t intruding,” the Commander said, walking up.

“Taras hates it when I decide to hold meetings here,” Savvin answered easily, motioning him over to one of the many empty tables. “Loss of income, so he says, though I be sure to compensate him for his time. But this is one of the hidden experiences of Russia, which foreigners should experience at least once while here.”

“Well, I look forward to it,” the Commander answered, picking up a menu, and sighing internally as he saw it written in Russian. Wonderful. “You seem to know each other well.”

“Oh yes,” Savvin waved absentmindedly. “I’ve known him for years. It refreshing, especially when dealing with smooth-talking politicians all day. We don’t always get along, but he speaks his mind and I can respect that. He actually turned down an offer to work directly for me. Odd, but he prefers to stay well away from politics.”

The Commander snorted. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“I think there is some part of you that enjoys it,” Savvin pointed out with a humorless smile. “Men like us at this position don’t do it just for the hell of it. There is something incomparable about shouldering the responsibility of a nation, knowing that millions are relying and depending on you. It’s something I’m sure you feel the same for about XCOM.”

“Add that to all of humanity,” the Commander sighed. “But necessity is the driving force for me. Everything else is either an extra benefit or a headache.”

“I will try not to be the latter,” Savvin promised ruefully. “I must thank you for coming through so well on our agreement. I’m sure you’ve seen our soldier prototypes, as well as our magnetic-based weaponry?”

“Yes, and I’m impressed with what you’ve accomplished,” the Commander answered genuinely, folding up the menu. “Thanks to your funding, XCOM was not overly hurt by the loss of China.”

“A foolish move on their part,” Savvin snorted disdainfully. “Reactionary and childish. Any political clout they had on the Council vanished the moment they withdrew. I must say, your response is worth commending. First Taiwan and forging a peace between the Koreas. You’ve done more to weaken China than nations before, an elaborate revenge on your part.”

The Commander sighed. “It wasn’t done out of petty reasons like that. It was done to solve a problem, and China was becoming one. Isolating them was the best tactic, but I do not want them reduced to nothing. They have a role to play.”

“Enjoy your victories while you can, Commander,” Savvin suggested. “No one will mourn the fall of China, and that allows others to take the lead. People like us.”

“It will be interesting to see if you hold that view when I explain why I’ve come,” the Commander commented neutrally, looking up as Taras walked up.

“What’s your order?” He asked gruffly.

“What you’re famous for, apparently,” the Commander answered, not bothering to try and puzzle out the options.

“Same for me,” Savvin added.

“I could never have fucking guessed,” Taras grumbled, walking away with a sigh. “I be back.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and returned his attention to Savvin who was looking at him with interest. “You have my curiosity then, Commander. What exactly do you want?”

“The United Nations is going to fall,” the Commander stated. “You’ve said as much, but what happens after that?”

“I would hope that archaic organization stays dead,” Savvin answered firmly. “But in more practical terms, I suspect that very little would change other than international law being more useless than it already is.”

“Wrong answer,” the Commander told him flatly. “We all die as the aliens invade and pick us off, country by country.”

Savvin frowned. “The smaller ones, yes, but-“

“Everyone will either die or be conquered,” the Commander repeated slowly, his hand unconsciously clenched as it rested on the table. “XCOM cannot stop a full invasion, no matter how much funding we received or how advanced we become. Trust me, I’ve thought about this for _months_. The aliens _will_ begin a final invasion, and there is only one way we can ensure we have a fighting chance.”

Savvin laced his fingers together. “And what exactly is that? Alliances with other countries?”

“The right idea, but not good enough,” the Commander corrected. “Humanity must unite. Every country fighting under one banner, and for one goal and ideal.”

Savvin raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we try and _keep_ the United Nations?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “The United Nations is fundamentally broken. But it must be replaced, rebuilt from the ground up into something the nations can truly rally behind.”

Savvin started to respond, but was cut off as Taras walked over, plates in hand. “Enjoy,” he muttered as he stepped back. The piece of meat in front of him looked and smelled delicious. It was also done much faster than he would have thought, though Taras had probably figured that’s what he would order and had prepared it ahead of time. Smart man.

“Thank you,” the Commander said. He grunted and walked off. Both of them started eating, and fortunately, the steak was just as good as it looked. Or maybe he was so used to Citadel food that this was amazing by comparison. Not that Citadel food was _bad_ , since he’d made sure some effort was put in, but it certainly wasn’t anything of this caliber.

“A new United Nations,” Savvin mused after a few minutes. “You truly believe that is necessary? More to the point, how would that even be possible? You of all people should know that some humans are fundamentally incompatible with others. Accommodating everyone is simply impossible.”

The Commander pulled out his copy of the Directive and slid it across the table. “Correct. Which is why I didn’t bother to try and accommodate everyone.”

Savvin picked up the document, eyeing it with pure interest. “I am somehow not surprised you have something like this. You wouldn’t bring this up unless you had a plan.”

“One that gives us a chance,” the Commander agreed, letting him read in silence.

“While this will no doubt have to be reworded to be a sufficient Directive, this is a good framework,” Savvin complemented, looking up. “Though I doubt you can contain the intricacies of what you wish to do within something this…short. Relatively speaking.”

“I disagree,” the Commander disputed. “I see no need to needlessly pad out documents to be an unreadable length. It gets the point across and that’s what matters.”

“Hmm,” was all Savvin responded with. “That being said, I find it interesting that no countries are given more influence than others. An oddity.”

“Not really,” the Commander answered, knowing where he was going. “If this is going to be representative of all nations, all nations _will_ be represented fairly. One country, one vote, simply. No special veto power and no preferential treatment. This is not going to be the United Nations of Russia, America and China.”

“So you would hold America and an insignificant country like Taiwan in the same regard?” Savvin asked. “That is neither right, nor fair as far as I can see.”

“Perhaps if we actually cared about that,” the Commander responded firmly. “But we need to move past this self-destructive nationalism. We need to stop thinking of each other purely in terms of if they’re Russian, American or Chinese. We’re _humans_ and if we don’t recognize that and begin to actually _work_ together than we’re all going to die. Is it fair? Not especially, but to borrow something from America, there are _checks and balances_. I don’t want a select few nations to have influence, the entire point is defeated then, but for the citizens of the world to be represented _fairly_ and not have their voice silenced simply because they control a small part of the world.”

“From what I read, this would essentially apply a modified version of the United States to the world,” Savvin added. “As much as you’ve tried to limit possible damage, never underestimate the lengths people will go to for power.”

“Which is why lawbreakers will be punished severely,” the Commander pointed out. “Corruption will always exist, but when it’s found, it will be stamped out. They will no longer be able to hide behind money and lawyers. Not under ADVENT.”

Savvin snorted. “You have high hopes, although it will be amusing to see the civil liberties groups riot over this.”

“How unfortunate for them,” the Commander answered dryly. “They can protest, but they are not a concern. I suspect they’ll shut up when ADVENT or XCOM saves them from aliens.”

“Expanding police and military authority is also an interesting move,” Savvin commented, looking back to the document. “Smart, but I suspect there will be backlash.”

“I’m well aware of the fallout that will come,” the Commander assured him. “But that is irrelevant. We do nothing and we die. We do this and we have a chance. Can I count on Russia, Mr. President?”

“An ultimatum of I’ve ever heard one,” he commented, looking up once more. “You do really believe this is the only solution. While I have my doubts, something admittedly will need to be done…and if so, what you’re proposing will be adequate. There will be those in the Duma who will protest, but Russia will become part of ADVENT, for the survival of our species, nothing more.”

The Commander gave a single nod. “That is all I ask.”

Savvin nodded down at the document. “With a lot of strings attached.”

The Commander smiled. “True.”

“Well then,” Savvin stood. “I see I have much to do. As do you, I imagine. Also…” he paused. “I have recently spoken to Prime Minister Nowinski. I assume you knew this was a possibility?”

“Correct,” the Commander confirmed.

“A good thing to know,” Savvin said, extending a hand. “I wish you well, Commander. When we next meet, I hope your Directive is established and we can begin working together openly against the aliens.”

The Commander took it and shook, maintaining eye contact with the President of Russia. “As do I, Mr. President. Good luck.”

***

_Washington DC, United States of America_

It felt slightly odd to be back in the regular United States. Sure, the Citadel was technically within the country, but it was so isolated that he’d not thought of it as _actually_ in the United States for some time. He couldn’t even remember that last time he’d just wandered around one of the states without being recognized or on a mission.

This was also the first time he’d actually been in the White House as well. Due to his work with the CIA, he’d always figured that the President had wanted to know as little about him as possible. Not that he minded that, but upon thinking of it, it was slightly interesting that despite his years of service, he’d never really been recognized.

Honestly deserved, truth be told. The last thing he wanted was recognition. He wasn’t a hero and shouldn’t be regarded as one. He preferred his face be kept a secret, and that had been one of the smarter decisions the White House had done during the time he’d been hunted. He was certain the CIA still had an extensive file on him, but they were smart enough to know they might need him one day.

Not that it really mattered. Everyone thought the Commander was dead, and so were no longer looking for him. None of the people bustling past him even gave him a second look as he sat calmly on the chair waiting for the President to speak to him. No one knew who he was, and he preferred it that way. Especially here.

“Hello, Commander,” a very familiar voice said. “Come with me.”

He looked up at the voice and smiled. Ah, it appeared that Ian Powell was still directing the CIA. He was not surprised at that at all. The man was brilliant and practical, and knew far too much to simply be let go. He was visibly aged from the last time he’d seen him. His short hair was pure white now, which contrasted quite a bit with his black skin which was now wrinkled.

Ian had never smiled much, and that trait appeared to have continued as he appraised him with the same air of disapproval. He’d always had the suspicion that Ian didn’t really like him, or what he represented. But he respected him, and the Commander could easily return that feeling.

He simply nodded and Ian led him through the hallways into a room which he assumed was adjacent to the Oval Office itself. Ian closed the door, locked it, and turned to face him. “I will admit, I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I can safely say the same about you,” the Commander answered easily. “Can I assume that you were the one to suggest a stay of execution?”

“One of them, yes,” Ian answered slowly, pursing his lips. “You know what makes you valuable, and I simply suggested that you were more use to us alive than dead.” He eyed the XCOM insignia on the Commander’s uniform. “However, I did not expect them to put you in charge of such a powerful organization.”

“And who else would do more to ensure humanity’s survival?” The Commander asked. “Putting me in charge was one of the few good decisions the UN has made.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “You clearly haven’t changed a bit, and I’m not sure if that’s comforting or worrying.”

“New York is still standing, that should count for something,” the Commander pointed out. “But I’m curious, just how is the state of the CIA now?”

“I believe you are no longer cleared to know information like that,” Ian refuted. “Suffice to say the CIA is performing it’s duties at the Madam President’s directive.”

“Figured as much,” the Commander agreed, looking around the room. “And speaking of the President…”

“She will speak with you in a minute,” Ian answered. “She is a busy woman after all.”

“I’d imagine,” the Commander agreed, walking to the window and looking out into the city. A few minutes later a door opened behind him and he turned to see President Nicole Treduant standing before him. She cut a figure that immediately spoke _presidential_. She wore a standard black suit and pants, her black hair cut sharply at the shoulders and she stood with an almost military precision, despite not having served in any capacity. At just forty-six, she was younger than the typical president although she looked younger than that, her height probably helped as well. Standing at six feet, she was tall enough to look him in the eye, and held his attention as she spoke. “Come inside, Commander. We have a lot to discuss.”

She turned on her heel and walked back inside the Oval Office. The Commander immediately followed her into it and shut the door behind him. Nicole stood in front of the window behind the famous desk, which had held so many before her. There was a weight and history to this room that he couldn’t ignore, even having never stepped into this room before.

He wondered if she felt it every day, or this simply became normal for her.

He held back, not wanting to be too forward until she clearly indicated she wanted to talk. “First things first,” she finally said, turning around to face him, her gray eyes unwavering. “I would like to thank XCOM for assisting in the defense of New York.”

He inclined his head. “Just doing our job, Madam President.”

“So I’ve heard,” she continued, her intense gaze never wavering. “You were admittedly one of the more interesting secrets I learned the day I became President. I will admit I pondered the idea of going through with your execution for real, but Ian and several others talked me out of it.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

She pursed her lips. “Yes, you should. I don’t approve of your actions, Commander, but if there’s anything I’ve learned over my term, it’s that the world is not as simple as I would like it. You represent the darkest parts of humanity, and I have learned those are not only needed, but even necessary in some cases.”

“For what it’s worth, you have been a good president from what I’ve seen,” the Commander said. “You stand by your convictions, even when they make enemies. That is something I can respect, even if I don’t necessarily agree. It’s a shame you neglected to run for reelection.”

“I am no longer politically viable,” she stated simply. “I refused to play the game and as a result lost support from my colleagues. Funny how enforcing the law changes priority depending on who the victim is.”

“If you’re referring to the former VP, that was looked upon rather favorably if I recall,” the Commander pointed out. “You did the right thing.”

The corners of her lips curled up. “I agree, though the Republicans believe I made it into an unfair vendetta and the Democrats were concerned when I prosecuted him in a military court. But it worked and I have no regrets.”

“Then why not defy the party again?” The Commander asked. “I’m sure you’ll agree that switching leaders mid-war is a bad idea.”

She gave a sad shake of her head. “Come now, Commander. You know how our elections work. Money is needed and the most influential donors will not back me anymore. I’m too _unpredictable_. This country is divided now, and I am not the right woman to unite it.”

“Why not?”

“Simple,” she answered. “Congress is against me. I cannot enact effective legislation without them, and they will deny anything I have simply because they spite me. Someone new is needed who both sides will listen to.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Unless there have been major changes within the parties, that is unlikely. Neither side will listen to each other, the partisanship was bad before, and I don’t imagine it’s gotten better.”

“No, it’s worse,” she sighed. “Both parties are filled with extremists, which have fortunately evened out for the most part. But you know how it is dealing with fanatics who see no other truth than their own.”

“All too well,” the Commander mused. “Although that alone is not stopping you from making change. You have executive powers, yes?”

“Executive orders are not to be used for establishing laws,” Nicole stated. “Not to mention Congress would repeal every action I write if it didn’t match up with what they wanted.”

There was silence for a few minutes. “You know the aliens will be coming soon,” the Commander finally said, stepping forward. “An invasion. Not these skirmishes we’ve been dealing with.”

“I believe as much,” she nodded. “Hence why I’m doing my best to strengthen our military for when the time comes. Though if New York was any indication, I’m worried for the future.”

“You should be,” the Commander stated bluntly. “If the aliens were to attack today, the United States will fall. You cannot stand on your own. Not against them.”

“And what choice do I have, exactly?” She demanded. “Do nothing? Petition the United Nations to actually do something?”

“No,” the Commander said. “We unite. All of humanity. The United States, Russia, Germany, Brazil. All as one army, under one banner with one directive: The preservation of the human race.”

She snorted. “Do you honestly believe that could even happen? Even if it does, Congress would never allow it.”

“It _can_ happen because it is,” the Commander said, handing a copy of the Directive to her. “The United Nations has failed, but the _ideal_ is possible. _That_ is what is needed now, Madam President. A true united nations that can stand against the coming onslaught.”

She accepted it, and read for a few pages. “I don’t disagree with your motive,” she admitted. “And it unfortunately will be needed in some form. But again I can’t do this on my own. How do you think the populace will react if I have the United States join this ‘ADVENT’ without congressional approval? When I suspend the elections until the aliens are dealt with? When we lose our sovereignty, even if it’s needed?”

“I imagine badly,” the Commander answered with a shrug. “At least some of them. But you, and by extension, America is at a crossroads and you will decide what will happen. Not congress, not the people, not me, _you._ ”

He paused, clasping his hands behind his back. “Regardless of what you decide, history will remember. You will be the one who allowed America to fall to the aliens, or you will be regarded as the savior of a country who made the decision to go to war and repel the aliens. Do nothing and humanity will die. What do you want your legacy to be, Madam President? Because unless we win, you will be the last President of the United States.”

Her hands were white and the Commander saw the paper wrinkle in her hand as she pondered what he’d said. “I don’t even know I can do this on my own,” she muttered. “The military and agencies support me, but they have little political influence. Not where it matters.”

“Don’t lie to yourself,” the Commander stated. “You have ways to make this happen. You just need the courage to carry them out. For the greater good.”

“For our survival,” she muttered. “When put that way…there isn’t much choice, is there?”

“No,” the Commander said. “But what matters is how you accomplish it. Think on this, Madam President. Do not fear reprisal, you will be supported by XCOM and the allied nations of ADVENT. Our survival is all that matters, no matter the cost.”

“You’re as practical as I’ve heard,” Nicole finally said, after a pause. “But unfortunately, it is as you said. If we don’t unite, we will die.”

“Yes.”

“Then I suppose I have work to do,” she sighed. “When the time comes…you can count on the United States.”

“You will not regret it,” the Commander said, giving her his salute, the first time he’d even done it in person to a President. “Good luck, Madam President.”

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

“I would still recommend a few days of rest before subjecting yourself to the pod,” Vahlen warned even as she began checking that everything was synced up correctly. “You feel drained, and given what you’ve done the past few days, I’m surprised it’s not worse.”

The Commander smirked at her choice of words. “Reading my mind again?”

She blinked. “I didn’t mean…well, it’s, ah, _difficult_ not to notice certain things.”

“Guess I’ll find out if this works,” the Commander said with a shrug. “You said I had a decent chance of being sensitive. It’s worth taking a few days to confirm.”

“I’ll be sure to keep everything running smoothly,” Bradford promised with a nod. “All the nations who’ve accepted your Directive will begin communicating and establishing the framework for ADVENT within several days.” He shook his head. “I honestly I never thought I’d see the day when something like this would happen.”

“I’m slightly disappointed that I won’t see the look on the faces of several diplomats I know,” Van Doorn chuckled, lightly tugging on his own cords attached to him. “They’d faint if they knew something like this was in the works.”

“It is good to know that at least some people leading the world are reasonable,” the Commander agreed. “Once that’s going, we can return our attention to figuring out how best to kill the Ethereal.”

“Speaking of which, once you’re done I’ll have some more results to show you,” Vahlen added, stepping back. “I think you’ll find them… _interesting._ ”

“Well, something to look forward to,” the Commander said. “Anything I should expect when you put me under?”

Vahlen pursed her lips. “Don’t expect it to be peaceful. You won’t exactly feel refreshed when you wake up.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Van Doorn sighed. “And immediately afterward I’ll have to get to work.”

“No rest for us,” the Commander said in resignation. “But hopefully nothing will happen for a few days.”

“Patricia can handle any abductions that come up,” Bradford assured him. “I wouldn’t worry.”

“Well,” the Commander took a breath. “Let’s do this.” He leaned back into the enclosed pod, noting that it wasn’t _that_ uncomfortable. He could fall asleep, at least. He felt the pod tip back slightly, and saw the black doors close before him.

Then the humming started, a low sound just on the edge of his hearing. He immediately felt tired, and knew he was slowly slipping into unconsciousness, or something like it. A few words appeared in his mind along with a familiar voice. _See you in a few days, Commander._

How nice of her. Which reminded him of something he had to do after this…

And with that, the hum took over and his slipped into the realm of unconsciousness.


	38. Controlled Crash

 

_The Bastion_

Time to start getting things under control.

As Saudia waited for the heads of the families to finally arrive, she once more ran through how she was going to present this. Tricking the aliens while simultaneously ensuring that humanity wasn’t substantially weakened was a tricky proposition. Possible, but tricky, with the potential for it to go horribly wrong.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of a choice. While they didn’t have to worry about XCOM anymore, she was certain that she would be executed if the Elders suspected she was once again just using them. An acceptable risk, for just a little longer. Darian and Yakov were pushing the research teams as much as possible, and they said that they were only a few weeks from figuring out most of the alien tech they had.

It would have to be enough. She had the distinct feeling that time was running out until the aliens invaded fully. She didn’t know _what_ the catalyst would be, but she suspected that XCOM would be involved in some way. Should they be eliminated before the invasion, their chances of it being a quick and bloodless fight increased substantially.

The countries that could put up a fight would likely be picked off quickly, especially if the aliens isolated them from allies, which was a likely possibility. If the aliens were smart, they would invade the lesser countries first, the ones who didn’t have armies in the hundreds of thousands. So instead of directly attacking China, targeting Thailand, Indonesia, the Philippines and Taiwan would happen first to prevent them from being annexed and used by China.

Actually…as much as she disliked the possibility, there was an excellent chance that Australia would be taken first, as that would make an excellent staging area from which they could launch attacks across the entire world, but especially Asia, Africa and the Americas.

Antarctica too.

The only area relatively safe from such a beachhead would be Europe, which did include Russia. The good news was that the major powers within the continents had a thin barrier of protection, which would buy them some time should the aliens begin a simultaneous attack. There was no way around it. The lesser countries would have to be annexed and brought into superpowers that had an actual chance of success.

The question was, of course, how to make that happen.

The door slid open behind her and she turned around to see Zara and Matthew walk inside. Zara was dressed in her typical armor, which was slightly shiner now since it was a result of integrating the alien metals. Her plasma weapon was also slung around her back and bandanna resting on her neck. Matthew was surprisingly similarly dressed, although it was a bit more tasteful and covered than Zara, with much of the armor covered up or painted black. Nevertheless, the laser pistol at his side showed that he was prepared.

She was as well, admittedly. Her own armor was a little lighter than theirs, and completely covered up under her usual dress uniform. But if there was another surprise alien visit, she was ready to defend herself. Although there would likely be little she could do if that Elder showed up again.

“Good to see you, Director,” Matthew greeted, his tone deliberately neutral. “I assume you have a plan.”

“Yes, I’m really curious about that,” Zara added, her tone holding nothing but anger. “I want to know the justification for not dissolving the farce ‘alliance’ with these aliens after what they did to _our_ soldiers and more importantly, _you_.”

“You know very well that would only start a war we aren’t ready for,” Saudia responded. “Trust me, I want nothing more. But we can’t do anything now until the time is right.”

“And when will that be?” She hissed.

Saudia stared unflinchingly into her stormy eyes. “That’s why you’re here. I’ve had time to think, and what I have might be the only way that EXALT, as well as humanity survives.”

“Let’s hope so,” Matthew said, taking a seat. “Because this cannot be allowed to let slide.”

“It won’t,” Saudia promised. “There will be retribution…but not immediately.”

They seemed to accept that for the moment and all of them sat down as they waited for the rest to arrive. “You brought quite a few soldiers with you,” Matthew noted, resting his arm on the table. “An almost excessive amount, I would say.”

“Considering what happened, I don’t consider it unwarranted,” she answered firmly. “This is what we’re trained for.”

“Against aliens,” Matthew noted calmly. “Not whatever these Elders are.”

“He’s right,” Saudia nodded grimly. “As much as I hate to admit it…none of the soldiers were able to stop him. The Elders are powerful, which means that we can’t rely on soldiers to defeat them.”

“I read your own report,” Zara said, leaning back into her chair. “There are ways this can be countered. We just need to figure them out. Enough delaying, Saudia. We need to restart the psionic testing immediately.”

“Starting even from the serum will take time we don’t have,” Saudia refuted. “Yes, it should be started, but we won’t gain anything fast enough. We need _actual_ psions to test with.”

“We lost Subject Four,” Zara reminded her, as if she needed it. “She’s likely with XCOM now, thanks to…well, whatever happened on that bridge.”

That _had_ been an extremely odd occurrence. Initial reports had led her to believe that XCOM had attacked them, but once alien DNA and blood had been found along with EXALT corpses, the picture had started to become much more muddled. Either the aliens and XCOM had been fighting and EXALT had somehow been caught in the middle, or the aliens and _EXALT_ had been fighting and XCOM had responded to the attacks.

Either way, Subject Four had clearly escaped and killed quite a few soldiers from the bodies recovered. That would have normally been disastrous, if not for XCOM now not posing an immediate threat. Despite what Ethan promised, she wasn’t convinced that the Commander was just going to forget about them. The most likely scenario was that he would ignore them, and in the event that humanity managed to win, refocus on them once it was over.

After everything was over, she couldn’t see a scenario where XCOM didn’t emerge as the leading power in the world. They would have the most influence, power and independence of any surviving countries, especially since they would likely be regarded as heroes for the part they played. Since they knew EXALT existed, that neutered them significantly in terms of actually influencing regions of influence.

The emergence of psionics, genetic modification and the Commander himself changed how operations could or couldn’t be conducted now. She was unsure what the Commander would do with XCOM, but she didn’t think that it was going to benefit EXALT. At best they would be reduced in power, and at worst, hunted to extinction.

“Subject Four is out of our hands,” Saudia said, returning to the conversation. “The Furies should be the priority, of any at all.”

Zara snorted. “Assuming they’re on Earth at all.”

Saudia was about to reply when the entrance opened up and Darian, Yakov, Elizabeth and Hasina walked in. With the exception of Elizabeth, all of them, even Hasina, were similarly armored and armed with their respective colors and styles. All of them took their seats as they waited for her to begin.

She stood. “All of you know what has happened over the past few days. The aliens have decided to take a more _aggressive_ approach to our ‘alliance.’ They will be dealt with, but we must go about it in a way which buys us time _and_ ultimately weakens the aliens.”

“I’m curious how that could possibly work,” Matthew said. “Those seem like mutually exclusive goals. If we wish to buy time for ourselves, we will need to follow what the aliens order. Or we weaken the aliens, but then bring them down on us.”

“And we can’t fight them,” Hasina nodded. “Not fight and win, at least.”

Zara fumed, but didn’t interrupt. “That would depend on if the Elders intervene or not,” Yakov noted. “As it stands, our soldiers have equivalent training to XCOM, if not more so. Once we finish our weapons research, I believe we could hold against traditional alien forces.”

“What is the point of that if they can be killed by some mind-controlling freak?” Elizabeth demanded. “Killing their soldiers accomplishes little when they can simply be replaced. And they can _afford_ to replace them. The likely control _planets_. We don’t have nearly enough to even make a dent in their forces.”

“Which is why we use them wisely,” Zara argued. “I’m not talking about throwing them into a fucking warzone. We use _squads_. Guerilla strikes similar to how XCOM operates. EXALT has brought nations to defeat without an army in the thousands, we can do so again.”

“None of which is remotely comparable to an interstellar army capable of space travel,” Elizabeth shot back. “We are outmanned and overpowered already. We need to accept that and figure out how to deal with it.”

“She has a point,” Matthew nodded. “Our advantage has never been numbers, but how we _use_ those numbers. Our tools have always been intelligence and manipulation, and we should use them.”

“Agreed,” Saudia nodded. “We need to use our strengths. Our vast influence before it’s gone. XCOM has presumably damaged our media network in America, though I believe that was before our truce, so that will pose issues there. But outside? We still have influence, and we need to use it.”

“Do go on, Director,” Hasina said.

“The so-called ‘Ravaged One’ seemed pretty clear on what he wanted EXALT to do,” Saudia explained, lacing her fingers together. “They want the world thrown into chaos, so to speak.  World War III essentially.”

“I hope you’re not seriously thinking of going through with that,” Darian said. “That would be the worst thing that could happen, especially if it were uncontrolled.”

“Except that the world is primed for something to happen,” Elizabeth disputed flatly. “It’s been happening ever since China left the Council. XCOM has been deliberately antagonizing China by allying with Taiwan and North Korea. I know that both Mongolia and nations of ASEAN are already in talks as well. If provoked, China _will_ go to war with XCOM and their allies.”

“Even if no one is talking about it, Brazil is on the brink of that as well,” Darian added. “The Marshal in charge _will_ annex the nearby countries if they feel threatened. Colombia and Venezuela are allied with XCOM, but Bolivia and Paraguay are both at high risk.”

Zara snorted. “There is no way Brazil would pull of something that brazen even if the aliens were knocking on their door. They can’t do that without provocation, and I can guarantee that none of those countries are thinking of starting a war.”

“The Koreas are also in a more delicate position than is stated,” Yakov added. “There are a _large_ amount of South Korean politicians decrying the truce. The President doesn’t have as much approval as she hoped, and if something goes wrong not only is the truce going to collapse, likely an XCOM alliance as well.”

“I find that unlikely,” Elizabeth disagreed, shaking her head. “North Korea is technologically superior to South Korea right now and they know it. They wouldn’t jeopardize an XCOM alliance, since right now, North Korea has more to offer than them. And right now, XCOM is their only source of alien materials.”

“Good point,” Yakov conceded. “But it’s not as stable as they make it out to be.”

“The Koreas aren’t where we should be concerned anymore,” Elizabeth continued, lacing her fingers together as she continued. “Israel is planning something, and Russia is probably involved. I’ve had confirmed reports of Nowinski and Savvin having detailed conversations about something.”

Darian frowned. “What could that possibly be? It’s an odd collaboration to begin with, and I’m not sure what could be gained.”

“The Middle East,” Saudia interjected, causing them to look at her. “Israel has had their eyes on it for a while. It’s weakened and vulnerable, though it’s fairly safe from an Israeli invasion, since even they wouldn’t be able to defend an unprovoked attack on the Middle East. However, if Russia is talking with them, that might mean they’re preparing to go through with it.”

“I’d call it mad if they went on it alone,” Matthew said slowly. “But if they’re backed by _Russia…_ ”

“That suddenly makes it possible,” Elizabeth finished grimly. “The only nation that could really hope to stop that would be China or America, neither of which I see involving themselves. As Israel is allied with XCOM, they would suddenly be at war with them.”

“But Israel faces the same problem if they suddenly start a war with the Middle East,” Hasina warned. “I don’t see XCOM standing by an unprovoked war, especially now. They would have to actually be attacked, and then the rest would have to be implicated somehow.”

“Which is why these scenarios are likely to not happen,” Saudia agreed, nodding at her sister. “No country wants to be responsible for starting a war, especially now. But if an _opportunity_ arose, they would take it.”

“What exactly are you suggesting, Director?” Matthew asked carefully, slowly.

She rested her hands on the table. “The smaller nations are not powerful enough to survive alien attacks. The superpowers are, at least for a short time. To increase humanity’s chances of survival, they must be absorbed into more powerful nations. Ones that can actually protect them.”

Elizabeth sat back as she instantly got the implications. “You want to _start_ these wars.”

“In ways that ultimately benefit humanity, and that keeps XCOM out of these conflicts,” Saudia confirmed with a nod. “Which means the wars would be directed in ways that are not detrimental to their allies.”

Hasina pursed her lips. “And what if the aliens decide to invade during this? I hardly see how this helps our chances.”

“This is what they _want,”_ Saudia reminded her. “They _want_ the world at war. They don’t care _who_.”

“So what are you proposing we do?” Zara asked, crossing her arms. “Have our people in the Middle East stage an attack on Israel?”

“For starters, yes,” Saudia nodded. “Something credible which can’t be dismissed. It will allow Israel to bring the Middle East under control without costing too much international strife where it matters.”

“About time that wasteland was brought under control,” Zara nodded approvingly. “At the very least, Israel will be better than the despots already in power. If Russia gets involved, it might be done rather quickly.”

“And optimistically it ends with a much more powerful Israel, and in turn more powerful XCOM ally,” Saudia finished. “Not an ideal situation, but that will bring one region under control.”

“I would recommend leaving China alone,” Yakov cautioned. “We can’t really have them be attacked by anyone nearby, else they’ll go to war with XCOM. The Commander has effectively boxed them in with surprisingly little effort.”

“Which does limit our options, but there are plenty of others available,” Saudia continued. “Repeating something similar with Brazil would ensure a stronger South American defense. Darian, would this Marshal respond in such a way?”

“Without question,” Darian confirmed with a grimace. “Though we run the risk of her expanding beyond that if she continuously feels threatened. But, yes, she can be manipulated.”

“Good,” Saudia confirmed. “There might be benefit in exploiting the Russian and Korean tensions.”

“Russia would annex several nearby countries if provoked,” Yakov confirmed, frowning. “That being said, it would have to be handled delicately as several are XCOM allies.”

“They might not need even that if Russia joins Israel,” Elizabeth added, frowning. “Some of the nearby countries may join with Russia voluntarily, especially ones like Bulgaria. For safety if nothing else.”

“Good to keep in mind,” Saudia nodded. “Now the last worthwhile investment may be the Koreas.”

“They’ve been at war for years,” Yakov reminded her. “At best things will go back to the way they were.”

“Although if the attack was large enough, that might provoke one side or another into a full war,” Matthew added thoughtfully. “Though we would have to decide which country would be the most beneficial in power.”

“South Korea is easiest to manipulate,” Saudia said. “For better or worse, the Supreme Leader is very intelligent and methodical. There are no rogue operatives or officials in his government. There aren’t leaks. I don’t see a scenario where North Korea attacks without justification. It would raise suspicion, especially from XCOM.”

“The South, on the other hand, is much more malleable,” Elizabeth finished. “There are enough people who don’t want peace for them to attack. Now that a truce has been established, any moral high ground they had will be gone.”

“As an aside, North Korea is more advanced than the South, and more powerful,” Darian added. “If we’re looking in terms of pure practicality, North Korea is the clear choice, especially if we want stability.”

“The important thing is that XCOM would have to stay allied with them,” Saudia said. “The Commander will not stand for either country breaking the truce, so if we want him to support one, the other must be the aggressor.”

“This is of course assuming that everything goes exactly according to plan,” Hasina commented skeptically. “And that the aliens _don’t_ attack when this is going on. I don’t approve of worsening the Korea situation. It weakens everything as a whole and will likely take months to be resolved. Time we don’t have. Provoking Israel is going to be questionable enough, Brazil as well.”

“Then we don’t do these simultaneously,” Darian suggested. “The aliens will likely believe this will take time, and a few major conflicts will likely appease the Elders, at least at the beginning. We do Israel and Brazil, should we not be ready and they demand more, we move to Russia and so on.”

“We do have one additional trump card,” Saudia said, resting her hands on the table. “I will be receiving an update from my contact in the Council today. I suspect he’ll have a good deal of information to share on XCOM, including the location of their main base.”

“And we turn this piece of intel over to the aliens,” Elizabeth assumed. “Allow them to attack.”

“Exactly,” Saudia nodded. “That will buy us enough time to enact contingency plans to move towards a campaign against the aliens.”

“That is risky,” Yakov stated flatly. “XCOM is essential for the war against the aliens. Allowing them the opportunity to wipe out XCOM completely could effectively doom us.”

“If the Commander is anything like Ethan describes, he is expecting an eventual attack,” Saudia told them. “If we give the aliens an opportunity now, it might provoke them into attacking earlier than they otherwise would have. It’s not an ideal situation, but if anyone could hold out against an alien attack, it will be XCOM.”

“Then I suppose that is an option,” Yakov conceded. “Although it would likely be best if XCOM never learned of this.”

Zara snorted. “What a _brilliant_ deduction.”

“Then we have an outline of what to do,” Saudia confirmed. “With that said, we must also prepare for their inevitable invasion. They will likely establish a beachhead on a large mass of land they can easily defend and attack from, which is why I believe that the Venator Family must begin relocating out of Australia.”

Zara’s eyebrows shot up. _“Completely?”_

“No, we will need some operational teams,” Saudia amended. “But the leadership, command and operations control should be relocated so that there is still a leadership structure if Australia is attacked.”

Zara didn’t look happy, but as she had likely come to a similar conclusion, didn’t protest overmuch. “While there are some officers who won’t like it, the scenario is unfortunately likely. Although Australia is fairly large and empty, we will reduce combative operations and relocate the leadership to either America or Asia.”

“Of those two, America is likely the safer one,” Saudia suggested.

“The East Coast,” Matthew added. “The aliens would likely start a dedicated assault on the West Coast and move inland.”

“Although Russia would arguably be just as good,” Yakov added. “Both are viable.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Zara promised. “But we need to decide on what _our_ first strike on the aliens will be. I need a tangible target to begin planning, and the aliens don’t exactly have as extensive presence on Earth.”

Saudia smiled. “Fortunately, since their technology is so sophisticated, there are certain signatures we can track. Thanks to Matthew and Darian, we have pinpointed general areas of unusual readings. Once those are narrowed down, we’ll have a target to you.”

Zara smiled. “Excellent.”

“Then that is our plan for now,” Saudia finished. “Let’s get to work.”

***

_Ireland, Undisclosed Location_

Well, here he was again.

Herman wondered how long it would take for someone to notice he’d even arrived. The few aides that he’d seen rushing around had ignored him, too preoccupied with whatever task they’d been given. Luckily the building wasn’t large and he actually remembered fairly well where he was going.

He finally reached the commons area he’d first started in and just leaned against the wall, looking to see if there was an obvious person in charge.

“Ah, there you are.” He turned to the familiar voice and saw Tamara walking up, surprisingly not wearing attire typically worn by diplomats and councilors. Instead she wore the black uniform of the Russian CT agents, minus the accessories and weapons. Well, that was interesting. Either it was on loan from Russia or she _had_ actually been one.

Which would make sense, admittedly. Though he wasn’t surprised that Russia would decide that their best diplomat was from an elite intelligence unit. Clearly President Savvin trusted his military more than the Duma to represent his interests.

Although that also made sense, since he knew that the Council wasn’t technically that well known outside certain circles. He wouldn’t have been surprised if very few of the Duma even knew the Council existed, and the same probably went for the rest of the countries. Still, time to address the matters at hand. “Councilor,” he greeted, inclining his head. “Good to see you again.”

Her lips twitched at that, her expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t say that yet, I’ll accept that after this meeting.”

Well, that was encouraging. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Noted,” his eyes ran over her attire. “Are you expecting an attack?”

“I haven’t ruled out the possibility,” she answered evenly. “But I find it helps get my points across better. Few of the councilors have military experience, and I’m tired of this diplomatic charade.”

She almost spat those last words out, making him feel more alarmed internally. That…didn’t exactly bode well. With China gone he’d have thought that things might have calmed down some. Then again, Councilor Ennor was still here and no doubt waging his crusade against the Commander just as furiously as before.

“Is the situation that bad?” He asked carefully, her features noticeably tightening.

“Depends on happens next,” she answered curtly. “The Commander hasn’t exactly helped his case by cutting us out of the loop multiple times, and while _I_ understand that, that is a legitimate point against him that Ennor is using to sway the neutral players.”

“Are you talking about Korea or China?” Herman asked, just to clarify. “Because it was likely-“

“Don’t tell me,” she interrupted. Nodding towards a door on the other end of the room. “Tell _them_. Come on, it’s time to get this over with.”

Herman nodded and followed her through the door into the meeting chambers. It was a beautiful room, even at first glance. The ceiling was domed, lending the impression of the chambers being much larger than they actually were. The floor was carpeted and cleaned meticulously, and in the center of the circular room was a small elevated stand where he assumed he was going to be going.

Surrounding the room were elevated desks, conjoined in one smooth ring. The councilors sitting inside them were spaced out a little more than he would have assumed, though that was probably to cover the fact that there were three withdrawn countries. The desks were a polished dark wood, the glossy finish reflecting the soft white light that bathed the room. Nameplates rested in front of each respective councilor, as they looked down on him dispassionately.

Tamara left his side and went to take her seat to the right side. Herman took the stand, directly facing the Speaker of the Council, and to his sides were Isabella Narmon and Tiran Amell, councilors of both the United Kingdom and United States of America, respectively.

None of the councilors wore a standard uniform, it was a mix of cultural, professional and military attire. The Speaker himself only wore a simple suit, which slid noiselessly over the desk as he reached for a gavel and hit it once, the crack resounding through the silent room.

“Let that note the start,” the Speaker declared, setting the gavel down and fixing his gaze on Herman. “Representative, our…apologies…for calling you here on such short notice. But in light of…recent events…we believe it is time to settle some issues and questions surrounding the XCOM project and the Commander himself.”

“I’ll answer as best I can, Speaker,” Herman confirmed.

“First question,” Councilor Isabella asked, leaning forward. “Were you aware that XCOM or the Commander was conducting negotiations with either North or South Korea?”

“No,” Herman stated. “I had no knowledge of any negotiations taking place.”

“Is that not the agreement the Commander made when he accepted our representative?” Councilor Ennor asked from the left. “That he would inform us if such events took place?”

“That was the agreement _you_ interpreted it as,” Councilor Amell commented, a wry grin on his lips. “I believe the _actual_ arrangement simply stated that our representative would ensure that the Commander was complying with United Nations guidelines.”

“Though I also believe that involved keeping us updated,” Councilor Mateo of Argentina said from his left. “Either way not informing us, even covertly, that such negotiations were taking place was a mistake.”

“Or it was smart,” Tamara interjected. “I don’t think you appreciate the _delicacy_ involved with even speaking to North Korea, let alone _negotiating_ with them.”

“According to Van Doorn, North Korea came _to_ XCOM,” Herman corrected. “The Commander did not initiate any negotiations. From what I’ve gathered, South Korea only became involved because the Commander made it a condition for a North Korea-XCOM alliance.”

“The fact that Supreme Leader Gwan felt comfortable enough to approach the Commander is not exactly a point in his favor,” Ennor stated to the room. “He is a dictator, and can only reason with those who think similarly to him. XCOM enabling North Korea to continue holding the country with an iron fist should have not been tolerated.”

“And I suppose _you_ know more about the Supreme Leader?” Councilor Kyo Sora of Japan asked with a raised eyebrow. “North Korea is an authoritarian state, yes, but we I do not believe we know enough about either the country, nor Supreme Leader, to automatically assume such things.”

“I believe the point Councilor Ennor is trying to make is that XCOM should not be affiliated with tyrannical states,” Councilor Rick Meredith of Canada interrupted sharply. “It reflects poorly on us and XCOM to be enabling these violators of basic human rights.”

“Regardless of the dispute over if the Commander should, or should not have, told us, I think we’re ignoring a much bigger point,” Councilor Antonio Silvian said wearily, looking around the room. “Personal issues with the man aside, the Commander _did_ help foster a truce between the North and South, something that no one else has been able to accomplish.”

“Exactly,” Tamara nodded. “Even if he has an apparent distaste for it, the Commander does have some political acumen and knows how to use it effectively.”

“That isn’t the problem,” Councilor Meredith insisted, glaring at Tamara. “Issues with the Supreme Leader aside, the fact was that the Commander decided to do this _without_ _telling us_.”

Herman heard a snort from his left, and looked over to see Councilor Adaora Osinachi of Nigeria shake her head. “Come now, councilor. Did you really think the Commander was going to tell us if he was conducting such negotiations?”

“These were the _conditions_ he agreed to when he was installed as Commander,” Ennor interjected hotly. “But I don’t know what it will take for you to see that he has no intention of keeping us in the loop.”

“Again, Councilor, he never agreed to that, nor were those conditions officially declared to him,” Councilor Amell interrupted, still sounding oddly amused. “You seem to believe that by repeating what you want, it will come into being. We installed the Commander to defend humanity, and subsequently made those _requests_ you’re so keen on reminding us. If I recall, the Commander _did_ explicitly state that he would be running XCOM _his_ way.”

“And we all went along with it like idiots,” Ennor scowled. “Is that really the person we want defending Earth? Just blatantly doing whatever he wants?”

“The problem with your argument is that it’s _working_ ,” Tamara responded, glaring at Ennor. “Humanity is still standing and XCOM has the capability to _win_ battles against the aliens. He’s _doing his job_. I don’t know what it will take for _you_ to see that!”

The gavel came down with a loud _crack_. “ _Order.”_

The councilors fell silent as the Speaker addressed Herman. “Representative, how would _you_ explain the reasoning behind the Commander not informing us of these talks with the Koreas?”

“The most likely answer is the simplest,” Herman answered slowly. “He didn’t want to jeopardize anything. He likely considered involving the Council and unnecessary risk, reasonable one or no.” Herman looked around the room. “I believe it should come as no surprise that the Supreme Leader does not respect the United Nations, and would not wish to negotiate with us in the slightest. Perhaps he told the Commander himself, but it’s extremely likely that if the Supreme Leader even _heard_ that the Commander was in contact with an affiliate of the Council, that it might lead him to believe that this is done through a UN puppet. Whatever the case, I don’t believe this was intentionally done to spite the Council.”

“An acceptable answer,” the Speaker answered. “Although the methods by which this was accomplished were…questionable…the outcome cannot be completely discounted.”

“Then perhaps we can move onto the Commander’s consolidation of power,” Ennor said, looking down at Herman. “Representative, you _have_ been following the Commander’s apparent goal of allying XCOM with every country _other_ than the Council?”

“Gathering allies isn’t exactly a crime,” Herman noted.

“These are not ordinary circumstances,” Councilor Lacy Rayce of France pointed out with a frown. “Neither is the Commander an ordinary man. Were this anyone else, that would be the accepted answer. But you know that the Commander does not respect the United Nations, and is perfectly capable of conceiving of this as an attempt to break off from the Council.”

“That’s not how he works,” Herman sighed, wanting to get this point across. “Several of you seem to believe that the Commander is going to suddenly turn on the Council with no explanation. That _isn’t going to happen_.”

“And you’re certain of that?” Councilor Kanti Jyoti of India asked skeptically.

“As certain as I can be, barring one exception,” Herman answered neutrally. “You _make_ him your enemy. If you continue treating him as the embodiment of all evil, he is eventually going to see you as a threat and _then_ going to move against you. If you don’t deliberately antagonize him, you have nothing to worry about.”

“So basically what you’re saying is let him do whatever he wants and we’ll be fine?” Ennor stated coldly.

“Essentially, yes,” Herman agreed. “Given his history, I’m uncertain why you’d feel the need to provoke him so much. Believe it or not, I don’t believe he wants you as his enemy. He just wants to focus on the aliens.”

“And you base this on what?” Councilor Meredith demanded.

“Speaking and interacting with him, as well as observing his actions,” Herman answered coolly. “He isn’t a madman, nor quite the devil his file implies. Though I disagree with him on many subjects, he is not an unreasonable person.”

“So would you still consider yourself an impartial observer?” Ennor pushed.

“As impartial as I can be, Councilor,” Herman answered, frowning. This was not a promising direction.

“Councilor, calling Representative Deidrick’s impartiality into question is unbecoming,” Councilor Amell stated, humor gone from his voice. “He was specifically chosen _because_ of his neutrality. You cannot call that into question simply because he’s saying things that aren’t what you want to hear.”

Herman was liking this American Councilor more and more.

Ennor smiled. “Fine then. Answer this question, Representative. What has been your primary focus for the past couple of months?”

Herman pursed his lips. He knew very well what Ennor was doing, but wouldn’t lie. “Performing my duties and assisting XCOM against the alien threat.”

“Assisting how?”

“Working with Shen’s daughter to provide additional gear for use in the field.”

“So you’re primary focus wasn’t on ensuring that the Commander was following guidelines,” Ennor clarified.

“I didn’t say that,” Herman answered. “Assisting XCOM was in addition to that. My duties were not mutually exclusive, nor were they defined as such.”

“Councilor Ennor does raise a good point,” Councilor Mateo admitted. “Intentional or not, Representative, your views _have_ been affected by this affiliation, correct?”

“If you mean after interacting within XCOM and with the Commander himself?” Herman asked. “Of course, which would have happened to anyone who went in my place. This is a weak argument, Councilor, and you know it.”

The gavel rang down again. “This line of questioning is out of order, as are you, Councilor Ennor,” the Speaker stated, looking around the room. “Representative Deidrick’s impartiality or competence is not in question, nor is it the focus of this meeting. Please keep the focus on the Commander and XCOM.”

“I think we should just settle this once and for all,” Tamara stated. “Representative, do you believe that the Commander poses a threat to the Council?”

Herman shook his head. “No, I do not. Unless, as I’ve said, you make yourselves a threat to him.”

“There,” Tamara leaned back. “It’s like I’ve said this whole time. Let the Commander do his job and he’ll do it. Interfere and make yourself a liability. We need to accept the reality of this situation, which is that the Commander knows what he is doing, like it or not. The sooner we accept that the sooner we can focus on the actual threat, which is the _aliens invading Earth!”_

“The Commander has built up XCOM well,” Councilor Meredith agreed. “That isn’t the problem, but XCOM is a world power now, and I suspect that is _not_ an accident. Let’s say you’re right, Councilor, and we let the Commander do his own thing. How long until he decides that some country is not focused on the aliens enough or is apparently opposed to him and decides to use XCOM as a weapon? He’s clearly willing to go to war with China, and if he _is_ , than do you think he’ll simply _threaten_ a country that he can take?”

“We’re moving into hypotheticals,” Tamara disputed. “Nothing tangible can be drawn from them aside from fear-mongering. Do you _really_ think the Commander would start a war _now_?”

“If he could find some way to justify it, absolutely,” Meredith responded.

“So tell me, what do you want him to do?” Tamara demanded. “Step down?”

“It would be ideal,” he shot back. “And perhaps we should force that issue and have Van Doorn take his place. He’s qualified and would be a hell of a lot more trustworthy than the Commander.”

“If you really believe that is possible, you’re deluding yourself,” Herman interrupted, every eye in the room focused on him. This was getting ridiculous and he was honestly sick of it. These idiots were well on their way to getting themselves killed because of their self-righteousness. “Do you _want_ to make _XCOM_ your enemy? Start by removing the person responsible for their victories and who’s actually _been_ with them fighting the aliens,”

Herman paused, organizing his thoughts. “The Commander is not going to step down. Ever. He would consider you attempting to remove him a betrayal and act accordingly. And you know what? He’d be _right_. Removing the Commander _now_ is the last thing you should do, especially when we have been winning. But do you want to know _why_ something like that would bring down XCOM soldiers on you?”

Herman looked directly as the worst offenders. Ennor, Meredith. “Because he has their _loyalty_. He’s _fought_ with them, _lead_ them to victory and through defeat. The soldiers don’t _care_ about politics, the past or your arguments. These are men and women who’ve _lost_ friends to the aliens. They’ve _seen_ cities be destroyed. They’ve _witnessed_ the experiments these aliens are doing to us. And you think they _wouldn’t care_ that you’d be outing the person who’s doing everything he can to stop it?”

Dead silence filled the room.

“You could tell them who the Commander was and most of them wouldn’t care,” Herman continued slowly, some of his frustration leaking into his voice. “Not now. Not anymore. Why _should_ they care when aliens are slaughtering their friends and families? You _lost_ , Councilors. You lost the _moment_ you elected to put him in charge and somehow thought you could _control_ him. You were either afraid or ignorant. You _knew_ who he was, what the risks he posed were. And yet _you did it anyway_.”

He swung his gaze to each one of them. “And now you act _surprised_ when he doesn’t play along. That he acts _exactly_ as you feared he’d act. But you went along with it, because you felt it was your only choice. Now you think that you _actually_ still have some influence over the Commander, you think because you’re part of the Council that you somehow have _authority_ over him. I’ll tell you something I’ve learned about him. Respect from him is _earned_ , not given. Since the beginning you have done your best to try and reign him in, or interfere, anything but actually _help_ him defend Earth.”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he finished. “Councilors, this situation is the fault of no one but yourselves. _You_ were the ones to put him in charge, and now you will pay the consequences. The War on Terror is _over_. The past _isn’t important anymore_. We must look towards the _future_ , to our _survival_. If the priorities of the Council are anything less than that, then I want no part in it any longer. The United Nations should be above this, it should be focused on issues that affect our species. And yet instead it is nothing but petty politics. At one point I might have accepted that, but no longer. I will not contribute to this body any longer and will focus my efforts on something more important. Speaker, consider this my resignation.”

The majority of the councilors looked stunned, Ennor and Meredith among them. Tamara herself was blinking rapidly, clearly not anticipating this either. Councilor Amell simply smiled at him, almost in approval. The Speaker betrayed no emotion and said nothing as Herman turned on his heel and headed towards the exit, leaving the stunned men and women behind him.

He took a breath once he closed the door behind him. Well, that couldn’t have really gone much better. He hadn’t actually intended for that to be quite a dramatic exit as it turned out, but didn’t overly care about that now. He hadn’t been sure it would have come to that when he’d arrived, but now it seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe this way it would refocus them into something useful.

Well, time to see if Big Sky would let him hitch a ride back to the Citadel. He wondered what the Commander would think of this development. Guess he’d find out soon enough.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

“What do you mean _‘They have a psion?’_ ” Cerian hissed into the phone as he paced back and forth, while his team sat around the table, talking amongst themselves as they waited for him to finish the quickly-worsening call with Patrick. “You _knew_ this could happen?”

 _“I knew psionic powers were possible, yes,”_ Patrick defended. _“But as far as I knew, only XCOM had humans who could utilize them.”_

“Oh yes, and there was _no possibility_ that EXALT _might_ , just _might_ have some of their own?” Cerian shot back, trying to keep his tone measured. “Or that the Commander _might_ have decided _not_ to share that little bit of intel?”

 _“Not with this,”_ Patrick insisted. _“Trust me, if he thought EXALT had psions, he’d have been calling for investigations into the Council for potential psionic tampering. He’s somewhat paranoid when it comes to that. XCOM actually just recovered a psionic test subject from EXALT, which begs the question of why they need to be experimenting with this if they’ve already got one.”_

Cerian took a breath. “Maybe to improve? But that doesn’t change anything, EXALT has a dangerous psion who knows who we are and presumably everything about this operation.”

Patrick was clearly puzzled. _“So why hasn’t he said anything.”_

“Presumably because he doesn’t want to kill us,” Cerian muttered. “Something about how ‘EXALT is not the enemy.’ Considering what he has the potential to do, I almost believe him. But no, it doesn’t make sense.”

 _“Well, this changes things,”_ Patrick muttered. _“That EXALT apparently has trained psions means that they may be using them elsewhere.”_

“Is the Council compromised?” Cerian asked.

There was a pause. _“I am going to say no,”_ Patrick finally answered, albeit slowly. _“Yes, they could be psionically influenced and we’d never know…but then again, if there was someone being influenced, they’ve done an exceptionally poor job stopping XCOM. It’s a possibility, but I honestly don’t see how they could see XCOM win victory after victory and not at least try to damage them.”_

“China left the Council,” Cerian reminded him. “And several councilors have been trying to remove the Commander for some time.”

 _“Except all the councilors, at least at the beginning, had been part of the Council for years,”_ Patrick pointed out. _“Not to mention that people have reasons to dislike the Commander. Which also brings up the question of if EXALT was influencing someone, why let the Commander be allowed to lead XCOM at all?”_

Cerian pursed his lips. Patrick did raise a good point. The simplest answer was that EXALT lacked the influence to do so, but considering their resources, and the gravity of the situation, he found it unlikely that they would decide against devoting everything they had to trying to control XCOM. “I don’t know. But we now have a loose psion, and even if I don’t like the Commander having access to such people, he’ll likely keep them under control. I don’t feel the same for one under EXALT.”

 _“I agree,”_ Patrick said. _“Which is why your new priority is the neutralization or capture of this psion.”_

“Understood,” Cerian confirmed, slightly grateful that Patrick was smart enough to see that their mission was practically impossible now with the psion in the mix. “We’ll begin work immediately.”

 _“Good,”_ Patrick answered with a sigh. _“Don’t expect to hear from me for a while. The situation here is…not good.”_

Cerian raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

 _“Our representative to XCOM just resigned,”_ Patrick answered wearily. _“In rather dramatic fashion to. It was described as…scathing, and made several notable councilors angry, while everyone else wanted to give a standing ovation. He essentially saw the politics, got sick of it, pointed it out and left. While unsubtly implying that he considered some of them idiots.”_

“Oh dear,” Cerian sighed. “And what can be expected to happen?”

 _“Well, the former representative has pretty much ensured a continuous deadlock,”_ Patrick answered. _“For better or worse, I don’t think much is going to get done by them. Just as well. We have more pressing matters like rogue psions and aliens.”_

“We’ll do our best,” Cerian promised. “Good luck.”

_“Thanks. I’ll need it.”_

He hung up and Cerian walked over to his team who all looked up expectantly. “New orders,” he stated unceremoniously. “We neutralize this psion.”

“Glad your liaison saw sense,” Olivia nodded. “Although I don’t know how we should go about that.”

“So Solaris Industries is on hold then?” Mary asked, just to confirm.

“Correct,” Cerian confirmed, sitting down. “And you’re right, Olivia. We’re at a distinct disadvantage here. This ‘Chronicler’ is expecting us to be gone. He said he’d kill us next time and I believe him.”

“Easy solution,” Mary chimed in. “I get access to the cameras. We locate him and follow his movements. Tracking people isn’t difficult.”

“With the little disclaimer that this guy can _read minds_ ,” Darril reminded her. “But yeah, no problem.”

“The problem is that we don’t understand how these powers work,” Baston noted slowly, crossing his arms. “Do they have a range? Are they extensive? Can it happen simultaneously?”

“I’d think the more people around, the better,” Cerian theorized. “No matter how powerful he is, he _can’t_ read everyone at once. Which means that if we could take advantage of some crowds, and he was in it…”

“He’d open himself up for a shot, and _boom_ ,” Olivia finished. “Although that’s going to draw a _lot_ of attention. Especially since EXALT likely values their psions.”

“Which is why we’re getting out as soon as we perform the hit,” Cerian finished. “We’re likely not only going to attract EXALT, but the local police and government. A public assassination is going to get national attention and we unfortunately can’t do it subtlety.”

“Or take him captive,” Darril added.

“That either,” Cerian nodded. “As surprising as it is to say, XCOM would be useful here. Patrick tells me they have experience dealing with psions.”

Mary coughed. “Uh…speaking of that…”

“I think XCOM had the same idea about Solaris Industries as we did,” Baston finished slowly, nodding to Mary who began typing. “We saw a familiar agent of theirs while you were meeting this Chronicler.”

“Ruth Shira is in play again,” Mary said, turning her laptop to him, showing the nondescript woman chatting with some nearby people near Solaris Industries. “If she’s here, there are probably others.”

Cerian raised an eyebrow. Well, wasn’t _this_ an interesting turn of events. “They probably don’t know that EXALT has a psion,” he muttered. “They’ll get captured or worse.”

“They don’t know what they’re walking into,” Olivia agreed. “So…what should we do here.”

Cerian studied the picture of the Kidon-turned-XCOM agent. Upon starting this whole experienced, he’d have never expected for it to take the turns it had. But by now he was learning to roll with the punches and prioritize what mattered. XCOM was an unofficial ally here against EXALT, and just watching them walk into a trap would serve no one.

Which meant that they might have to take a few risks. “Can you find her again?” He asked Mary, glancing at her intently.

“Probably,” she nodded. “What’s your plan, boss?”

“Provided the Chronicler doesn’t make an unexpected appearance, I think we should take advantage,” he answered slowly. “Perhaps it’s time to have a chat with agent Shira.”

***

_The Bastion, Communications Center_

“Let’s hope your source actually has something we can use,” Elizabeth muttered as Saudia set up the equipment. “If he doesn’t…well, I’m going to hunt him down and demote him to analyst for his incompetence.”

Saudia rolled her eyes and finished setting up the screen. Her source unfortunately didn’t have access to their holotech technology, and thus they’d have to rely on traditional communication. Luckily the broadcast would be live; good thing to since he’d had an entire year to prepare for this, which gave him no excuse for not setting this up well ahead of time.

“He’s not let me down before,” Saudia reassured the high-strung spymaster. “He knows what is at stake.”

“I know,” Elizabeth sighed and leaned against the wall. “I’m not at my best. If the aliens suspect we’re doing this…well, you know what’ll happen.”

“I’m well aware,” Saudia answered firmly. “But if anyone could pull this off, it’s you.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “Starting wars is my specialty. Do it all the time.”

“You collapsed Brazil,” Saudia reminded her. “XCOM interventions aside, you did what you said you would. Besides, it’s easy to make countries go to war if they want to in the first place.”

“Mhmm, true,” she agreed, pushing herself up and walking over beside her. “Well, it’s time.”

Saudia looked towards the computer hooked up to the monitor, which was blinking a steady green light. “Right on time,” she said approvingly. “Let’s say hello.”

The screen flashed on and eventually focused in, showing a darkened room where she could make nothing out. Her contact was cloaked in shadow, silhouetted in a dark blue light that permeated the entire screen. It appeared his flair for the dramatic was still in full effect, or maybe he was just used to this. _“Greetings, Director,”_ his deep synthesized voice stated, as he inclined his head. _“It has been…too long.”_

Yep, he’d definitely settled into his role well, overly dramatic pauses and everything. It was almost endearing if she didn’t find it irritating at times. “You as well, Speaker. I trust all is well?”

 _“Let us say that recent events have left the Council currently…divided,”_ the Speaker answered slowly. _“As you may or may not be aware, there is a major split between the councilors, focused on the Commander of XCOM.”_

“We know who he is,” Elizabeth interjected, stepping forward. “You can skip that part.”

 _“Spymaster Falka, a pleasure to see you again,”_ the Speaker said, before directing his attention back to Saudia. _“Then as you can imagine, there was specific councilors who have dedicated a…questionable…amount of energy on removing the Commander. Needless to say, their efforts have had…little…effect. I have done my best to encourage this divide as it neuters the Council from interfering effectively, as well weakening once-stable alliances.”_

“You have names of the anti-Commander councilors?” Saudia asked.

 _“Of course,”_ the Speaker answered with a nod. _“Everything I have compiled over the past year is now being sent to your currently. Suffice to say that the opposition is spearheaded by Australia and Canada. This is in turn being deflected by Russia. The number is effectively split, with the few neutrals ultimately having the final say.”_

“I’m surprised the United States hasn’t become involved in one way or another,” Elizabeth commented.

 _“They support the Commander,”_ the Speaker revealed. _“But they will retain neutrality, as the Commander was one of their own and they would be accused of national levity. But should it come to a vote, the United States will not abstain, and the moderates will fall into line whichever way they vote.”_

“What else do you have?” Saudia asked.

 _“While XCOM has kept many of their secrets to themselves, there are some things that cannot be covered up,”_ the Speaker continued. _“I have estimated funding from both Council and non-Council nations, personnel and troop numbers, potential XCOM soldier and personnel recruits, alien artifact stockpiles from their after-action reports and footage of all past missions, redacted in places, or course.”_

“Well done,” Saudia nodded. “And do you have the location of their base?”

 _“Certainly,”_ the Speaker confirmed. _“Exact coordinates are incoming, but the “Citadel” as the Commander calls it, is located within the United States.”_

Saudia and Elizabeth exchanged a satisfied look. Perfect, and she wasn’t all that surprised of the location either. But it was good to have confirmation. “Thank you, Speaker. This will be put to good use.”

 _“As the Speaker of the Council, I also have access to many documents and plans from the member nations,”_ the Speaker continued. _“All of which I’ve forwarded to you. There are weaknesses we can exploit and take advantage of if you wish.”_

“Anything of interest?” Elizabeth asked.

 _“One thing I have found is that Russia has somehow been receiving regular shipments of alien artifacts,”_ the Speaker said. _“Considering that the Commander has…refused…to allow any to Council nations, that either implies he doesn’t know or is…complicit…in such subterfuge. Perhaps it warrants more…investigation.”_

Highly unlikely. The last thing they wanted right now was to make things harder for XCOM. There was a _lot_ of stuff to go through already, and he’d done his job exceptionally. “ _There is more,”_ he interjected. _“I have been seeing something new over the past few days.”_

“What?”

 _“A single word: ADVENT,”_ he answered. _“The source of this I am still…unable…to determine. But it has appeared several times from different countries. I am still unsure what this means, but I believe it should be…investigated.”_

Saudia frowned. That was an odd word, which she’d typically associate with an operation. Were several of the countries planning something? A war of their own? She suspected that _advent_ was not a random choice. It was _new_ , a _rebirth_ , indicated _change_. Yes, it did warrant some kind of looking into. Although their time would be limited.

“Have you learned anything on the aliens themselves?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

 _“Yes,”_ the Speaker said with a nod. _“XCOM managed to capture one of the alien infiltrators, the so-called ‘thin men’ and subjected it to interrogation, so the Commander says. These infiltrators are called Vitakara, and possess a genetic mutability that makes them ideal for such operations. I propose you test the blood of EXALT personnel to determine that we are not compromised.”_

That was a very good idea. “We’ll begin that soon,” Saudia nodded.

 _“In addition, it also revealed more about the leaders of the aliens themselves,”_ the Speaker continued. _“You have probably seen one if you’ve followed anything from the recent New York attack.”_

 _More than seen._ Saudia thought as she tried not to reach to her scarred throat as the Speaker continued. _“They are called Ethereals. They are supposedly very reclusive and rare, but extremely dangerous. Rumor has it that only one is needed to conquer a planet, and that the rest of the aliens respect, fear them, or most likely both.”_

Saudia pursed her lips. That was interesting, and she could see how one Ethereal might be able to conquer a species. Maybe. _Ethereals_. Fitting as names went, although _Elders_ wasn’t a misnomer either. These aliens _were_ clearly ancient, as well as mysterious. “Excellent work again, Speaker,” she said inclining her head. “The endgame is near, one way or another.”

 _“I await my final orders eagerly,”_ the Speaker said. _“Until then, I will be watching and waiting for our victory.”_

“As will we,” Saudia said, inclining her head. “For EXALT.”

_“For EXALT.”_

The screen went black and she walked over to the computer which confirmed the reception of a massive file the Speaker had compiled over the past year. She looked up at Elizabeth. “Satisfied?”

“Reasonably,” she answered, amused. “Lots of interesting stuff to go through, I imagine.”

”For sure,” Saudia agreed. “I do believe now that we have the location of the XCOM base, we should give our alien overlords a call.”

Elizabeth’s lips curled up. “I agree. Let’s hope XCOM is ready for their attack.”

“If Ethan’s right about the Commander, he will be,” Saudia said, turning back to the computer. “But then again, it’s not like we have much of a choice. XCOM has survived this long, all they need to do is hold out a little longer.”

“Although if we’ve misjudged, we’ve lost,” Elizabeth mused.

Saudia looked up at her grimly. “Then I guess we should hope that they don’t lose.”

Elizabeth didn’t answer that, instead walking over, and together than began going through the massive amount of compiled data on XCOM, the Council, and the world.


	39. Research and Engineering VI

 

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

_…Opening up…_

_…Surpasses…_

_…Free and clear…_

_…I know…_

The Commander gasped as his eyes flew open, the world blurry and tinted in a faint purple light. He could hear things, whispers on the edge of his consciousness, occasional words and phrases.

And feelings. Ones that weren’t his.

He took a breath as he calmed himself down as the pod opened up before him. Anticipation, concern, calm, confidence. Those were all emanating from…somewhere just outside. He blinked as the harsh light of the labs hit his eyes and looked away, reaching up with his hands to pull off the wires and tubes attached to him.

“Easy, Commander,” Vahlen said as she came up to him and began helping. “You’ll be disoriented for a few minutes.”

The Commander decided to just let her do it, since he was irritatingly uncoordinated at the moment. “I think it worked,” he said, looking over at her concentrated face. “You feel it too? Emotions, other people. Hearing odd things?”

She raised an eyebrow as she glanced over. “What do you mean odd things? Voices?”

“Not exactly,” the Commander answered, a few more contextless words entering his mind. “More like unintelligible whispering, occasionally I’ll think of a few words randomly that I know aren’t mine.”

“Fascinating,” Vahlen murmured as she grabbed his arm and hauled him up. He stumbled a couple of times, but quickly righted himself and took a quick look around the labs. Same as before, really. Except all the scientists were at work, not really paying attention to him. The whispering seemed to be getting more intense now that he was fully awake.

“Why fascinating?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Because it appears that your telepathic abilities are not as immediately developed as mine were,” she stated, eyeing him with curiosity. “I experienced a…well, overwhelming amount of full thoughts and voices initially, no whispers or anything like that.”

The Commander smirked. “Are you doing it now?”

“Unfortunately no,” Vahlen answered with a sigh. “I’m still trying to…well, sort through it. It’s difficult trying to pinpoint specific people. Well, you’re not that difficult, but I attribute that more to that I know you well and that psions are easier to pick out. Still, I can’t exactly _read_ your mind with the reliability that I would like to.”

“You’ve tried?” He asked in bemusement.

She hesitated. “Honestly, not intentionally. As much as you trust me, I wouldn’t do that without your permission.”

Well, the good doctor had surprised him. He didn’t really see a reason she’d lie, and since _sincerity_ was one thing that he sensed rather clearly, he imagined it was coming from her. “I appreciate that,” he told her quietly. “I wondered if you would or not.”

“Don’t mistake me,” Vahlen warned lightly. “I’ve attempted it, but with less…controversial people. Our test subjects are good for more than science experiments. It’s been a fascinating experience for sure.”

“I might have to try that,” the Commander said, rolling his shoulders. “So I suppose that my psionic powers are weaker then if they aren’t as intense as yours?”

Vahlen scratched her chin. “Possibly, but I’m skeptical. Your projected sensitivity was slightly lower than mine, so I’d be surprised if there were major differences. It’s more likely that you may be more…attuned to a different aspect of psionics than-“

The Commander suddenly sucked in his breath as he was hit with a feeling of _expansion_ the seemed to come from everywhere. It was like another sense that he’d only realized _now_ ; tangible and not at the same time. The very air around him felt as though it could be changed, manipulated. He felt like he could reach out anywhere and touch something even if that was physically impossible.

“Commander?” Vahlen asked, concern emanating from her voice. “Are you-“

“Fine…” he interrupted slowly, getting himself accustomed to the odd feeling. “I think…something happened. Everything feels…tangible now. Strange…”

Vahlen cocked her head, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Tangible…how, exactly?”

The Commander looked around. “Like…ah, it’s hard to explain. It feels almost like being underwater, that sense of being surrounded by…something, but without anything inhibiting me. See that cup there?” He pointed towards an empty mug resting on the edge of a desk about ten feet away.

Vahlen nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s almost as…” he cut himself off, as a potential answer came to him. He extended his hand towards the cup, trying to actually manipulate the area around it. The air around the mug began being distorted and faintly purple…and then the mug was suddenly flung back into the wall and shattered with a sharp crash.

The Commander lowered his arm, honestly rather excited at the possibilities this implied, and turned to Vahlen who clearly felt the same way. “Well,” he said slowly. “I think I know where my abilities are focused.”

“Telekinesis,” she breathed enthusiastically. “Fascinating. I wonder if Alexei had a similar experience? A shame I never asked him before his death, but what you’re implying means that each of these difference specializations isn’t just a set of abilities, but how they perceive and feel the world,” she began picking up her tablet and frantically typing. “I will have to perform more tests to confirm-“

“Easy, Moira,” he chuckled as he guided his hand over hers and had her put the tablet down. “While it’d be interesting for sure, I think the focus needs to be on more pressing matters.”

She cleared her throat, looking and feeling slightly embarrassed. “Right, of course, Commander,” she affirmed with a sharp nod. “Speaking of which, I believe I should have a number of things to show you soon.”

“How soon?”

“Within the day,” she answered. “That should give you some time to get accustomed to your new abilities.”

He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers. Yes, some sort of practice was in order, not to mention all the other things he needed to get caught up on. “I agree. Where is Patricia?”

“Likely in the training area,” Vahlen answered, nodded her head back. “She’s been working with Iosif and Annette a lot.”

“Well, hopefully she won’t mind another trainee,” the Commander said, looking to the exit. “You should probably go sometime too, especially since your abilities seem similar to hers.”

Vahlen pursed her lips. “Perhaps, but I’d rather figure this out on my own, without outside intervention. I’m making good progress as it is.”

Well, he figured Vahlen would prefer to figure something like this by herself, and he didn’t doubt she could do it. But he preferred to get actual help instead of stumbling through on his own. He didn’t have time to experiment, and would likely see combat again well before Vahlen, so it was more pressing he master this as soon as possible.

“How soon until Van Doorn finishes?” He asked, nodding towards the other pod.

“Later today,” she answered. “I’ll let you know.”

Not long then. Good. “Thanks, Moira.”

She smiled. “Anytime, Commander,”

“Right,” he sighed. “Now to get back to work.”

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

Annette thrust her arms forward directing a light wave of purple energy towards Iosif who raised his hands too late. The wave slammed into them and threw him back several feet. Before he could get up, Annette directed acidic energy around her to converge over his body on the ground, hovering until she let it go.

With a groan he tapped the floor. “You got me.”

Annette let the energy dissipate and slowly let the power fade from her, growing slightly dizzy as it faded out of her. Latrell came up and offered her a bottle of water which she gratefully accepted with slightly shaking hands. No matter how much she tried, she always felt unstable after coming off her power high unless she was completely exhausted. It was irritating…but it was probably a natural reaction to having that much energy leaving her so fast.

But it was always there, always within reach, just waiting for her to draw on it again. “I think that puts you in the lead,” Latrell commented with a smile. “Eleven to ten.”

She scowled. “Not good enough.”

Not for her at least. She’d quickly found out that her and Iosif were complete opposites psionically. While her abilities were destructive and offensive, his were defense and shielding. He was the perfect counter to her, though that didn’t mean he was invincible. The battle largely rested on who was faster; who could disrupt the other first.

She could utilize her powers quicker, and his required more concentration. So if she managed to get a blast of energy off of him, at the least it would disrupt him enough for her to begin more lethal abilities. Unfortunately, if she _didn’t_ then he was essentially invincible for any attack. A battle of attrition didn’t work against him either, since at one point both of them had decided to test just how powerful his barriers were.

It had been rather decisive. She’d become exhausted sooner than him, and nothing she tried could penetrate the barriers he’d put around himself. So that allowed him plenty of time to come up with counterattacks. One disadvantage was that he couldn’t attack and defend himself simultaneously…at least not yet, so that then turned into something of a stalemate where two more scenarios emerged where he beat her.

One, he’d either project his barriers onto her and essentially trapped her in a stasis field. Good news was that she was effectively invincible, bad was that she was completely incapacitated with no way to retaliate. From then it was an easy matter of him walking up to her, pulling out a pistol and placing it to her head. Once the stasis field was ended, _boom_ , bye Annette.

In _theory_ , all of them believed that it _was_ possible for their abilities to be utilized without physical movements. In practice, it was essentially impossible even for the simplest attacks. She just didn’t have the focus or concentration to _will_ things into existence just by thinking about them. She’d better figure it out soon though, because if she ever faced some alien with similar abilities to Iosif, she had slightly better than a fifty-fifty chance of dying.

That was _not_ counting being simply mind-controlled, because that was another way she lost. Iosif was more skilled than her in the telepathic aspects of psionics. She couldn’t attempt mental attacks _and_ physical ones at the same time, but he could perform both simultaneously, which did make sense since his were more defensive.

She didn’t necessarily think he was more _skilled_ at controlling than her, but he had far better mental defenses and she…well, _didn’t_. And as long as his barrier was active, he had all the time needed to break into her mind and control her. It was disconcerting, feeling another mind in hers, feeling it manipulating thoughts. She wondered if it was better or worse that she was aware of it, because Iosif was very distinct. Very calculating and sure. _Precise_. He never stayed in long, but enough to ensure she knew she’d lost.

That wasn’t even taking into account Patricia. She’d been observing this since the beginning, and had beaten all of them easily by just controlling them. “You’re fast,” Iosif commented walking up, wiping his forehead with a towel. “I need to remember that.”

“Or just get your barrier up sooner,” Annette sighed. “You’ve won every time you’ve done that so far.”

He snorted, scratching his black hair. “Unlike you, I can’t exactly throw one up as quickly as you throw one of those kinetic waves at me.”

“I guess so,” Annette muttered, wincing as she looked down at her raw arms, which were in the process of healing themselves. She’d never really thought about it much, but it was a disconcerting thing to actually see now that she watched it. It was…unnatural, and she’d preferred to put it out of her mind.

It still hurt, though.

“I’m curious,” Iosif said, looking at her curiously. “You weren’t in the military, but did you ever play sports? Basketball? Baseball?”

Annette was slightly surprised at the question, but answered it anyway. “I played football as a kid, but I wasn’t really the athletic type. Why do you ask?”

He nodded towards her. “Your reflexes. You’re faster than me, and are managing to keep up with me without any military background. I found that interesting.”

“She was always fast,” Latrell added, amused.

“Huh, you’re right,” Annette noted, with a mild surprise. He was right, she was managing to slightly beat a trained Russian soldier who should have outclassed her in every category. “I never really thought about that.”

“Your psionic talents likely help somewhat,” Iosif added, motioning toward her torn arms. “Probably some boost to your strength and clearly cellular regeneration. But it’s impressive, nonetheless.”

“Thanks,” Annette said. “Although in all honestly, you’re likely to win in an actual fight. I can really only win if I surprise you or am faster. In everything else you win.”

“Which is why you need to get better,” Patricia interjected walking up, her arms crossed and her face stern. “I’ve told you that physical attacks aren’t what you need to be worried about. The only aliens that pose a major threat to us are Hive Commanders and Ethereals. They won’t just attack your body, they will attack your _mind_. If you can’t defend _that_ , then you will lose.”

Iosif inclined his head. “Point taken, Psion Trask.”

“Patricia,” she sighed. “No titles.”

She then waved them back to the training floor. “Come on, we need to work on this.” Annette and Iosif followed and stood about four meters apart, the same distance from Patricia, forming a triangle of sorts. Patricia clasped her hands behind her back as she addressed them. “You’re both evenly matched, as far as I can see. But both of you have the same major weakness, which needs to be corrected immediately.” She swung her head to Patricia, her unyielding eyes boring into Annette’s.

“I’m going to mentally assault both of you simultaneously,” she continued. “That should give you a better chance to defend. We are going to keep doing this until one of you manages to keep me out, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Iosif confirmed. Annette simply nodded.

Annette felt the psionic energy around Patricia spike as she gathered her own power, far more subtle, but just as dangerous as her own. Annette drew on some of that herself, in preparation for the coming assault, also noting that they were all being watched. Latrell, and some others were watching, clearly curious as to how this worked.

Patricia had demonstrated how to defend against a mental attack, which ultimately boiled down to focus, emotion and clarity. A clear mind focused around a specific emotion was a good start, so she said. Right, so she needed to clear her mind, no distractions. Closing her eyes first removed all the obvious ones, which enhanced the senses and emotions around her.

Those wouldn’t do either. She could luckily block them out to some extent, but not completely. It would have to do. All except Patricia, she could feel her and knew she’d press the attack soon. _Resolve_. That was what she’d focus on. Patricia was not going to break through, no matter how much she-

Annette gasped as Patricia began her attack, which she did note was substantially weaker than her previous attempts. But even weakened, she was pushing against her mind, cracking her mental barriers with a practiced ease.

 _Five seconds._ The words appeared in her head, not from her. _Not good enough._

Patricia withdrew and Annette blinked open her eyes, her vision blurry. “Again,” Patricia stated. “Prepare yourself.”

Annette took a breath. Alright, at least five seconds was better than before. She nodded and repeated the same thing. Patricia did the same, and this time Annette sensed the attack before it came, which allowed her to prepare a little better. But not nearly enough as Patricia smashed through again with ease

_Six seconds._

“Again.”

Annette did so, preparing and barely even slowed her down.

_Six seconds._

“Again.”

The resolve she was trying to focus on was beginning to fall apart and be replaced with frustration. But she tried, she tried to grasp onto that shaky focus, and felt with dismay Patricia take her mind just as easily as before.

_Seven seconds._

“Again.”

_Six seconds._

“Again.”

_Eight seconds._

“Again.”

It kept going on and on, the times and words becoming a mantra of failure. It never stopped, it could have been minutes or hours and she had no clue anymore. She was frustrated, tired and growing angry. And yet Patricia still stood in front of her, smug and furiously calm. This was pointless, she wasn’t going to stop her.

She was sick of this.

Instead of closing her eyes, she just glared at Patricia, her vision tinged with purple as she only focused on the center of her current embodiment of failure. Defense clearly wasn’t working, and right now she didn’t care anymore. All she wanted to do now was take her down some. Anger had served her well before, perhaps it would do so again.

So she focused all her anger on this situation, her failure and instead of waiting for Patricia’s attack launched one of her own, directing everything she had on the woman who was the cause of this. Patricia took a step back, clearly not expecting the attack. Annette couldn’t break inside, but she was surrounding her mind, assaulting it on all sides, preventing any kind of escape.

She smiled to herself as Patricia tried multiple times to leave, but as soon as she attacked a weakness, immediately forced her to retreat. She wasn’t getting tired, her anger sustained her attack for as long as it would take, Patricia couldn’t hold out forever, no matter how-

 _Explosion_.

Annette blinked. What was-?

And Patricia took that opening and entered her completely unguarded mind once more. _Two minutes_. And withdrew once again.

Annette fell to one knee, her vision blurry as she realized that she’d unconsciously drawn on her own power. Her skin was currently in the process of healing. Patricia walked up to her, extended a hand which she grabbed and hauled her up. “Good job,” Patricia complemented. “Always play to your strengths, Annette. You’re not a serene person, so don’t pretend to be. Anger is clearly your focus, so use it. Defense is not your strength so attack. Don’t be something you’re not.”

It dawned on her that this was what Patricia had been attempting to do the whole time. Not necessarily to block her own attacks, but for them to figure out how best to defend themselves. “Smart,” she breathed. “You figured that out ahead of time?”

“More or less,” Patricia admitted with a smile. “I had some idea, and drove you toward what I thought would work. It took a while to get your fully angry, but I was right.”

“And Iosif?” Annette asked, looking around for him.

“He was simpler, more controlled,” Patricia answered with a shrug. “He knew what his strengths were and I just wanted him to improve. He can defend his mind better, but you can arguably perform a more valuable task. You can shut others down, prevent them from doing any more.”

“Guess I have something to work on,” Annette said, grabbing a water bottle and taking a sip.

“We all do,” Patricia agreed, patting her on the back. “But not now. You deserve a break.”

“Won’t argue with that,” Annette agreed. “Are you taking one?”

Patricia chuckled. “No. This doesn’t exhaust me anymore, so I can’t use that excuse. Besides…I have things to do with the Commander.”

“Ah,” Annette nodded, feeling her become more focused as she clearly prepared to move on to other things. “I won’t keep you then. Have fun.”

“Thanks,” she answered sarcastically. “Your boyfriend is in the Mess Hall, since I know that’s what you’re wondering.” Food did seem like a good idea, so Annette thanked her and began walking that way, ready for a short break.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“What have I missed?” The Commander asked as they stood around the holotable. Bradford, Jackson and Van Doorn all stood at respective sides, and Bradford was the first to answer.

“Very little, relatively,” he answered. “We’ve mostly been monitoring several of the major countries, especially those you selected for the Advent Directive.”

“Anything interesting?” Van Doorn asked.

“Brazil has fully cracked down,” Jackson answered grimly. “The Marshal has effectively and officially declared Brazil a military state until further notice. There’s been reports of dozens of firefights between military and cartel forces. The police forces have been dissolved and reformed into a military division controlled by the Marshal. Pretty much every civilian organization with any power has been either removed or reformed.”

“Let’s hope she can finish quickly,” the Commander muttered. “Harsh, but I’d rather Brazil be in control than rioting.”

Both Jackson and Bradford didn’t seem to agree with that, if their emotions indicated anything. But both of them were resigned to it. They knew this was likely the best that would happen, else allow complete chaos. “A lot of people are going to die,” Jackson said to no one in particular.

“Yes,” the Commander stated. “They will.”

Van Doorn rubbed his forehead. “Anything from Israel?”

“Israel and Russia,” Bradford added, focusing the holotable on Asia. “It appears that Nowinski took your advice. Both he and Savvin have been talking. With everything going on, that particular development is not attracting the attention it normally would.”

“Good news,” the Commander nodded, glad to hear it. “I’m sure they’ll be able to work something out.”

“Yes, how exactly to divide the Middle East,” Van Doorn commented sarcastically as he turned to face him. “I understand why you did it, Commander. But encouraging Israel to actually go _through_ with their mad plan is questionable, even for you.”

“The Middle East will continue to remain unstable until it is united,” the Commander defended, crossing his arms. “You know it’s not going to happen on its own, no matter much you or the UN wants it to happen. If it isn’t brought under Israeli and Russian control, someone else is going to do it. I’d rather it be allies than enemies.”

“I doubt China wants the Middle East,” Jackson commented.

“But the better argument is strategic,” the Commander continued, not looking at her. “The more land that ADVENT controls, the better chances we have. The Middle East will not willingly conform to ADVENT law, and their countries could be actually put to use. Their factories, refineries and funding will be needed, and I will not ignore that just because it will violate their precious sovereignty.”

“Or you just have a grudge against the Middle East,” Van Doorn pointed out calmly.

“Forgive me for not respecting their regressive governments and cultures,” the Commander stated coldly. “Islam may not be the controlling power it once was, but its influence still remains. The laws and norms established haven’t gone away, not fully. Do you really disagree that it needs change?”

“It needs to be changed,” Van Doorn agreed, some heat creeping into his voice, and frustration emanating out of him. “But is a _war_ the way to do it? Do you really think they’re going to change when a two countries, that a good portion still hate, _invade_ their homes?”

“Maybe if we had time,” the Commander admitted. “If we didn’t have the threat of an imminent invasion. But we don’t, Van Doorn. We _don’t_ have time to educate them on the error of their ways. But more to the point, I believe you underestimate just how ingrained their ways of life are. Change as you want it will take decades, and I find that unacceptable. Sometimes not everyone is _right_. Sometimes change needs to be _forced_. _Diplomacy_ has been _tried_ in the Middle East and they will not listen, in which case a new approach is required.”

“A war,” Van Doorn finished.

“Not an ideal situation,” the Commander admitted. “But that is a possibility I don’t consider inherently bad. It may not happen, and I won’t allow it without cause.”

“Don’t be willfully ignorant,” Van Doorn said, narrowing his eyes. “You know that if Israel wanted to manufacture an excuse they could. They aren’t above staging a fake attack.”

“I know,” the Commander nodded. “But sometimes these kind of decisions are necessary. You know that.”

Van Doorn clearly remembered the Hades Contingency, and Bradford likely did as well. “Again, I understand the reasoning,” he sighed. “But I don’t think it’s the right decision here, and you should have informed us that was going to be discussed beforehand.”

The Commander was quiet for a moment. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But Israel was going to enact their operation regardless, Nowinski implied as much. At least this way they might end the war quicker with Russian support and in addition ADVENT will become stronger as a result.”

“What’s done is done,” Jackson interjected, raising a hand. “Van Doorn, the Commander’s right in that Israel would probably have gone ahead with or without us knowing. That being said, this _is_ something we should have known you were considering.”

“I know,” the Commander said, rubbing his forehead. “Anything else beyond that?”

“President Treduant has introduced legislation expanding powers for nearly all government entities,” Bradford updated, handing him a file. “Along with issuing an executive order authorizing development of previously banned weapons such as chemical and biological weapons, as well as enhancing their nuclear arsenal.”

Van Doorn raised an eyebrow. “Bold. Especially since the UN _is_ still standing.”

“I don’t think she’s overly concerned about the UN,” Jackson said slowly. “The aliens have got the public scared, and very few are making an issue over this in the states. Similarly with Congress.”

The Commander nodded. “So when you say her legislation is ‘expanding powers’ that means…?”

“What is sounds like,” Bradford answered. “Increased funding, resources, authorization to take control of private institutions in states of emergency, as well as _also_ allowing autonomy in states of war. Which mean-“

“They could bypass Congress entirely,” the Commander finished slowly, a smile spreading across her face. “And the people in charge of these positions were appointed by her, correct?”

“Correct,” Bradford nodded. “If a declaration of war is issued, the Executive branch would suddenly have the most power. Congress would be effectively neutered.”

“Which would ensure that they couldn’t interfere if they dislike her decisions,” the Commander finished. “She’s setting up to move America into ADVENT, with or without Congress.”

“Except for the _small_ problem that Congress has to approve this first,” Van Doorn pointed out. “For some reason, I’m skeptical they’ll be happy with the fine print.”

“Actually…” Jackson began, her and Bradford exchanging a look. “President Treduant was very clever in how she set this up,” Jackson continued, a tinge of admiration in her voice. “It was clearly written to get bipartisan support, and was deliberately phrased as something of a peace offering to them, or an apology if you prefer that.”

“It’ll probably appeal more to the Democrats, honestly,” Bradford said. “It’s giving them a lot of what they want. The departments of Education, Energy, Ethics, the EPA, they’ve been campaigning for more funding for those for years, and this will do that and more.”

“And it’ll appeal to the Republicans because it’ll increase military funding, R&D, and the more radical ones will be emboldened by her executive order,” the Commander noted. “She’s likely calling on every favor to push this through, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to think she can pull it off.”

He didn’t add that if Nicole _was_ taking his advice, she was going to ensure votes went her way via other means than favors. “So she’s hoping that no one notices the little ‘declaration of war’ clause.” Van Doorn guessed.

“Oh, they’ve likely read it,” the Commander guessed. “But I don’t think they consider it an issue, since _Congress_ is needed to formally declare a war. So they hold the cards there, or so they think.”

“And when an invasion hits, people will be screaming for Congress to act,” Jackson finished. “Which will then ensure that Treduant controls the majority of government.”

“Although Congress could repeal that part of the bill,” Bradford noted thoughtfully. “It’d take time-“

“Not if the institutions gain autonomy from Congress,” the Commander interrupted, shaking his head. “The first thing Treduant will have her people do is rewrite their own rules to include freedom from Congress. She’s likely developed quite a few contingency plans.”

Van Doorn whistled. “If she somehow pulls this off, it’ll be one of the greatest political plays in history.”

“I doubt she’s doing it for the records,” the Commander said. “But I agree.”

“Well, in other news, our deployment of new soldiers arrived,” Bradford updated. “Sending you the list now. We now have a respectable number of soldiers. Again.”

“Shen also has some things to show you,” Jackson said. “Vahlen too, for that matter.”

“I’ll check in on them,” the Commander nodded. “I think if that covers everything major, we have a lot to do.”

Jackson brushed some hair out of her face. “That we do. It might be a good idea to have a dedicated ADVENT Liaison, I can’t coordinate something this massive and XCOM as well without a decline in quality. But I’m doing my best.”

“I’ll look into it,” the Commander promised her.

“I’m going to find Patricia,” Van Doorn said, rolling his shoulders. “I need to get used to my apparent ability to create energy shields. It feels odd.”

“She’ll probably put you with Iosif then,” the Commander said. “Sounds like your talents are similar.”

“Which are you, anyway?” Bradford asked curiously. “You never said.”

“Indications are telekinetic,” he answered. “Though I’m not really _good_ at it yet.”

Jackson snorted. “For some reason, I think you’ll get better.”

“That’s the plan,” the Commander agreed. “Alright, dismissed.”

They all saluted and exited the room to go about their respective tasks.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

Back to the Citadel. Strange how ordinary it seemed now.

But as Abby walked through the cold hallways, it felt different. Before joining XCOM Intelligence, it had felt like home. Well, at least a comfortable place to stay at the least. But now it didn’t have that feeling. It was just another quick stop before she was deployed to somewhere else.

She didn’t really feel like a _stranger_ here; it was more like going to a friend’s house. Familiar, but not somewhere where you belonged. She really wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to really settle down now, not after XCOM Intelligence. It had been a goal long in the future, when she was a more innocent, naïve doctor. She’d work for several decades, spend and save wisely, save people, probably fall in love somewhere along that, and then retire, hopefully in the process make the world a better place.

It was almost amusing to think about now, considering what she was doing now.

Was she still making the world a better place?

Maybe. That’s what she was saying to justify murdering two people. All for the Greater Good. A concept she specifically remembered addressing in some argument with Patricia, with how some things couldn’t be justified with that.

Maybe. Even if it could be justified, it still didn’t change what she did was wrong. If people around her knew what she’d done, they would shun and condemn her, and she wouldn’t be able to blame them. No matter how she looked at it, no matter who those two were or what she’d done, she’d murdered them.

There were excuses, but they seemed hollow. She was under orders, true, but she didn’t have to follow them technically. She could have refused, backed Jochern and figured something out, but no. She’d decided Ruth’s philosophy was sounder, Zhang knew more than her and refusing orders was wrong and illegal. It had felt cheap then, and it only felt worse as time wore on.

She looked up and sighed. She had no fucking clue where she was going; she was just wandering until it was time to see Zhang. The heartless Director was no doubt happy with her work and had said as much, though he already had another mission for her. Honestly, she was happy about that, it’d give her something to take her mind off everything.

She’d thought about trying to track down some of the soldiers, maybe Patricia. But didn’t really think she could have a normal conversation with any of them. She wasn’t the cheerful and friendly doctor they remembered. She was a spy, a shadow agent who did whatever it took to achieve the Greater Good.

What was bothering her the most about all this was that she’d realized she was _good_ at it. Not once during those interrogations had she not had a plan, she hadn’t hesitated, had been remarkably calm and resolved to do this as quickly and cleanly as possible. Not resolved to do it the _right_ way, but the way that got the best results.

It seemed her first instincts when thinking about even joining seemed to have been correct. She was meant to do the dirty jobs so others didn’t have to. Maybe she’d feel less guilty if she accepted that; her mission in life wasn’t to save people, but hurt and kill them.

For the Greater Good, of course.

“Agent Gertrude?” She looked up in surprise as the Commander can walking down the hallway, looking as professional as ever.

She immediately snapped into a salute. “Commander.”

“At ease,” he said, smiling. “Glad you’re back on the Citadel. Recently arrived, I assume?”

She gave a brief nod. “A couple hours.”

“The mission was successful, I take it?” He asked.

He didn’t know. “We got what we wanted,” she answered neutrally. “I assume you’ve read the report?”

“No,” he answered. “Zhang has only been updating me on…well, classified activities. EXALT operations have taken a lower priority.”

“Oh.” So pretty much her mission wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. How typical. But such was life, unfortunately.

He frowned, his expression turning concerned as he appraised her. “Something is bothering you.”

She pursed her lips. Was it that obvious? “Nothing important, Commander.”

He tapped his head. “Some things have changed since you were here last. Namely that we can determine human psionics, of which I’m now one.” She blinked as he continued. “Now I’m not quite as skilled as Patricia, but I can tell when people are either lying or downplaying how they feel.”

Well…ok then. The Commander was a psion now, which she somehow wasn’t completely surprised by. It seemed fitting that he’d also be able to control powers other humans couldn’t. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt. Despite his past work, she knew that he was as sincere as he could be, and she couldn’t really judge him the same way, especially with what she’d done now.

“We found two suspected EXALT plants,” she explained tonelessly, leaning against the wall. “Zhang gave us orders to capture and interrogate them, then execute them when we were finished.”

“Execute them regardless?” The Commander asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “So I did. We got them to cooperate, then I killed them. Simple as that.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “I see. How did you get them to cooperate?”

“Jochern talked one into giving up what he knew,” Abby said. “Basically lied. I did the same thing with the woman. Worst part was that one of them wasn’t even EXALT, just a corrupt journalist.”

“On Zhang’s orders?” The Commander asked.

She frowned. “Yes. You didn’t know?”

He was definitely less happy than before, if his hardened features were anything to go by. “Not specifics, no. I have rules when it comes to interrogation, one of which is honoring deals with captives. Execution is acceptable, but not when the subject cooperates.”

Abby didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but the fact that she could have refused and still retained the Commander’s backing made it worse. She was just a coward now, an automaton with no will other than her superiors. “No,” the Commander stated, seemingly directed at her. “That isn’t your fault. You got your orders and followed them, which should be commended. The fault lies with Zhang and me, for failing to make it clear to him my standards. I will be sure to rectify that immediately.”

“I appreciate that,” Abby said quietly. Well, at the least the next agents wouldn’t be forced to do what she did.

The Commander paused. “For what it’s worth, I know how you feel, and it’s not something you ever get used to,” he said quietly. “Killing an innocent person may be necessary, but it won’t and shouldn’t become normal. It’s easy to hate yourself for it, but if you’re not careful, it will dominate your thinking. The best thing to do is accept it. Don’t negate its impact, but realize that it happened….and may happen again. That is a reality of intelligence work, Abby.”

“That how it worked for you?” She asked without thinking, wincing internally as it came out. But the Commander didn’t seem offended.

“It wasn’t exactly the same,” he explained, letting out a long breath. “I’d really never really killed any I considered ‘true’ innocents before joining the Commander. Bystanders, yes, but they were often just as bad as the ones I killed. Criminals and murderers who I felt no sorrow over killing. No, the first time I really killed people who I considered _innocent_ was early in the War on Terror.”

His tone turned reflective. “It was some town in Saudi Arabia, near some high-ranking Caliphate members. We determined a staging ground to launch operations, which ended up being a house owned by a small family.”

Abby could see where this was going. “You killed them.”

He gave a nod. “That we did. I did. I ensured it was quick and painless, but I killed them for no other reason than that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Were you under orders as well?” She asked, thinking maybe this was a catalyst for…something.

“None,” he answered flatly. “But I determined there was no other way to ensure they wouldn’t talk. We had no extra food or water to give them, and capture presented the risk of escape. And we couldn’t risk the mission. It was wrong, I’m under no illusion there, but was it necessary? Yes, I believe so. Do I regret it?” He paused. “Yes and no. I regret that it came to that choice. But I would do it again, and I realize that I will likely have to make that decision again.”

Abby looked up at him. “You really think the Greater Good can justify everything?”

“I believe in trying to accomplish what will cost the least human life in the long-term,” the Commander answered slowly. “If more lives will be saved by letting several innocents die, than yes, it can. Innocent life should be preserved as much as possible, but not at the expense of even more dying.”

“But you don’t _know_ more people will be saved?” Abby pointed out. “Do you?”

“No,” the Commander admitted. “I cannot predict the future. Perhaps some of the acts I committed were unnecessary, but for many…I can say with confidence that many more were saved. You killed an EXALT agent and a man who was already corrupted. You’ve prevented EXALT spreading lies to thousands of people. You’ve done good, Abby, even if you don’t feel it now. Helping people doesn’t always mean healing them.”

“I guess,” Abby answered quietly, looking down.

 “I’m not saying you should celebrate what you did,” the Commander told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Never that. Don’t forget either, but realize that you’ve helped the world, even in the unlikeliest of ways. Accept your guilt, but move beyond it.”

She gave a quick nod. “I’ll do that.”

“Maybe find something to take your mind off it,” the Commander suggested. “Patricia will probably be happy to see you. I’ll talk with Zhang to, you won’t be put in that position again.”

“Thank you, Commander,” she said sincerely. “And for listening.”

He inclined his head. “Anytime, Agent Gertrude.”

He walked on, leaving her standing alone in the hallway. It hadn’t exactly been comforting…but that had been something she needed to hear. She didn’t feel _better_ per-se, but at least she didn’t feel worse. Perhaps she should take his advice.

With that, she turned and began walking in the direction of the Barracks.

***

_The Citadel, Engineering Bay_

While he could understand _why_ Zhang had taken the complete ruthless approach, he sincerely wished that he _might_ have informed him about that sooner. There were standards to be adhered to, even when utilizing torture. _Especially_ then. Although it was true that was partially his fault for not specifying them to Zhang in the first place.

Well, that issue would be resolved soon. In the meantime, time to see what Shen had in store. The Engineering Bay was as busy as ever, even seemed more so, though that was likely due to that Shen had recruited more engineers for his projects, which was thankfully speeding up development of quite a few projects.

Shen was clearly expecting him as he stood close to the entrance, looking over some designs that rested on a table covered in writing utensils and tools. “New design?” He asked, walking up. Shen looked up at his approach, adjusting his glasses as he inclined his head.

“Commander, good to see you again,” he began. “Yes, that is. Though I think you’ll be more interested in the complete product.”

“Which is?”

Shen gave a satisfied smile, and motioned him to follow. The Commander fell into step beside the elder engineer as they walked through the busy workshop, continuously humming and hissing as the machines and engineers worked nonstop. “Your people seem as busy as ever,” the Commander noted. “Putting them to good work, I see.”

“Always,” Shen answered. “The staff size is large enough now that we can work on multiple major projects at the same time. Hence why we were able to have several major advancements to show you.”

The Commander smiled. “Looking forward to it,”

They eventually found themselves at a very familiar place: the practice range. An array of weapons were laid out on a table in front of alloy targets. The weapons seemed far more squarish and rectangular than previous iterations, and there was a clear red energy contained inside the silver alloy that covered the weapons.

“Since I believe we’ve reached the pinnacle of ballistic technology, my weapons team has been working on improving our laser weapons,” Shen explained as they walked up to the table. “Our current generation is excellent against unarmored targets, but suffers against more heavily armored targets like cyberdisks and outsiders simply absorb the energy itself.”

“And I assume you found the solution?” The Commander said rhetorically, picking up the pistol variant.

“That we did,” Shen nodded. “In fact, the solution was actually in previous experiments. One of the ways that the heat dissipation issue was originally solved was utilizing a form of rapid cycling, which had something of a ‘drilling’ effect from the near instantaneous heating and cooling. It wasn’t really practical or powerful in its original form, but applying that to alien tech has allowed laser tech to become just as dangerous as gauss weaponry, if not more.”

That sounded promising. The Commander set the pistol down and picked up the rifle. It was different from how traditional firearms looked. The barrel was almost a square, not round as was typical. A thin beam of red was viable at the core, with the power pack just before the trigger. It was far lighter than the gauss weapon, though a bit heavier than current laser weaponry. It lacked the _solid_ feeling of the gauss weapons, but he supposed it made up for it in being supremely maneuverable.

He raised the weapon, aimed it at the dark gray target and fire. A beam shot out and tore into the metal, causing it to spark as the constantly fluctuating beam cut through it with ease. He quickly ceased the beam and looked at the clean hole the beam had left. “I’d say you succeeded,” he said, setting the rifle down. “Excellent work.”

“We’ve designated this generation of weapons as ‘Pulse’ tech,” Shen said, accepting the compliment. “You saw the beam, so you can understand why we felt that was appropriate. Distinguishes the weapon from current laser tech more too.”

“Impeccable naming as always,” the Commander agreed, picking up the sniper rifle variant, which had the same squarish barrel as the rifle. “What have you tested this on?”

He fired a headshot at another target and the thin pulsing beam shot out and drilled a hole through the metal almost instantaneously as Shen answered. “Beyond sheets of varying alien alloys, some of the wrecks we’ve recovered.” He wrung his hands together as the Commander set the sniper rifle down. “It worked exceptionally against the cyberdisk wrecks, though it is admittedly impossible to properly test without functioning ones. We also don’t know if it will have the same weaknesses against outsiders, though I am optimistic it will be more effective.”

“Regardless, this is major improvement,” the Commander said, turning fully towards him. “Your team and you are to be commended.”

“This is good news and bad,” Shen said after a few seconds. “Bad in the sense that I am unsure how our current arsenals could be further improved. Unless an epiphany hits us, I don’t see our infantry weapons becoming more powerful. This is the pinnacle of infantry weaponry, and I don’t see that changing.”

“We have yet to replicate their plasma weapons,” the Commander recalled. “Are you saying that’s impossible?”

“Of course not,” he disagreed vehemently. “But it…well, their plasma weapons are largely still a mystery. We have to fully research elerium before we can begin to understand how they start. Unlike ballistic and laser weapons, plasma has no weaponized prototype. It is an entirely new line of research, which unfortunately leads to time difficulties.”

“I believe Vahlen is working on the elerium to some extent,” the Commander said. “But I understand. Our current weapons should be more than sufficient for the moment, although you did say the pinnacle of _infantry_ weaponry, yes?”

“Yes,” Shen nodded. “Our Raven and MEC weapon systems have many more improvements to go before I would consider them the pinnacle of anything. But those are two topics I will save for later, since I have something that I know you’ll be interested in.”

He waved him over to another table where what looked like a sleek and curved suit of armor laid upon it. Even more than the current Phalanx armor, it was completely sealed and even more armored, even if it was designed in such a way where it seemed smoother and less bulky than before. It wasn’t form-fitting, but it was clearly built around the human body. It still lacked complete armor on the joints, but otherwise the legs, arms and chest were covered in a layer of darkened alloys.

“The Aegis armor,” Shen stated, spreading his hands towards the suit. “The next generation of XCOM armor. This is as durable as we could make it without sacrificing an unreasonable amount of maneuverability.”

“How durable?” The Commander asked, looking over the suit in interest.

“It can withstand a fully blast from an alloy cannon at close range and a pulse rifle takes roughly seven seconds to drill completely through,” Shen answered confidently. “Unlike the Phalanx variant, this is estimated to be able to take multiple plasma shots instead of only one or two.”

The Commander picked up the chest piece. “Well, let’s test that out,”

Shen sighed, but didn’t look surprised as the Commander suited up in the armor. “You named it after our Ethereal friend?” The Commander asked as he fitted the chest piece on.

“That was a coincidence, believe it or not,” Shen answered. “The Aegis design was conceptualized long before that Ethereal revealed his name. I felt it was fitting. The word itself means protection and support, which is what I wanted this armor to be.”

Protection and support. Interesting. He wondered if Aegis had chosen that name on purpose, or if it was his name to begin with. Which did beg the question of what he was. A protector for the Ethereals? A defender or sorts? That would make some kind of sense, and explain why he’d taken an interest in him. What better way than to defend your people than understand your enemy?

Although if that was the case, he wondered why Aegis wasn’t taking a more active role in the invasion. He was certain that this new Ethereal was completely different, and Soran had said that the Ethereal who'd been overseeing Earth, Sicarius, had been replaced, presumably by this new one. Which made him wonder if Aegis was involved heavily in the invasion, or just acting out of pure curiosity.

Questions for later. He pulled on the gauntlets and rolled his shoulders and he took a few steps in the armor. To his surprise, it was actually more comfortable than the Phalanx armor. He felt _protected,_ _stable_. It also seemed like he could move quicker, but at the same time, felt completely durable when doing so.

From what he could tell, this was an enhancement in every way.

His HUD initialized after he put on the helmet. “Feels good so far,” he said, looking down at Shen. “Let’s put it to the test.” He picked up the pulse rifle and tossed it to Shen who caught it, a look of resignation on his face. “Sustain beam for five seconds,” the Commander ordered, taking a firm stance inside the practice range.

Shen nodded and fired. The Commander didn’t flinch as the pulsing beam hit the center of his shining armor and began cutting. The time clicked down in his head, and already he imagined he could feel the heat of the laser as it got closer and closer to his skin.

_Four…five_

The laser stopped and the Commander let himself relax and look down as the hole in his armor. The metal was a faint orange, so he refrained from touching it. Still, he could see it was almost through. But it assured him that Shen hadn’t been exaggerating about the protection the Aegis armor offered, though that hadn’t really been a concern to begin with.

Still, never hurt to be sure, especially since his soldiers would be relying on this for protection.

“Excellent job,” the Commander complimented as he walked back. “All the soldiers will thank you for it.”

Shen grimaced. “I really hate you having me do that, but I appreciate it.”

The Commander took off the helmet and set it on the table. “So, anything else?”

“A few more things, yes,” Shen said, motioning him to follow once again. After a minute the Commander realized they were headed to the Cybernetics Lab. Likely MEC related then. “I’ve ordered the construction of another Marauder and Ballista-class MECS,” Shen continued. “Backups in case one suit is completely destroyed. We were able to salvage Myra’s, but it’s still in the process of being repaired.”

“Acceptable,” the Commander nodded. “You understand what we can afford here better than me. Although I assume that you have more than just that update.”

“Correct,” Shen nodded as they reached the door. It slid open and the Commander’s attention was immediately grabbed as always by the massive MEC being built in the center. But unlike the last time, it was almost fully armored. “We are almost finished with the construction of the Goliath-class MEC,” Shen confirmed. “I expect within a week or two it will be ready for field testing.”

The Commander felt a smile creep across his face. He imagined that even the aliens would think twice when they saw that behemoth marching towards them. Although there was one problem. “How are you going to get that out?” He asked. “I don’t think it’s going to fit through the door.”

“The arms and legs can be detached for transportation,” Shen explained. “It will be reassembled in the hangar, although the current MEC transport will have to receive a power upgrade to even transport it alone.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing that in action,” the Commander said wistfully. “I doubt even the aliens could stand up to that.”

“Not their ground units,” Shen agreed. “A complement of anti-personnel, artillery and wieldable weaponry should ensure some response for any threat. A trade-off for its poor maneuverability, but I believe the benefits heavily outweigh the costs.”

“I tend to agree,” the Commander nodded as he looked at the twenty-foot machine.

“That being said, I have begun developing schematics for another class, almost the exact opposite,” Shen continued, picking up his tablet and handing the device to the Commander. “We’ve developed suits to deal with specific scenarios, but we lack a highly mobile or single-target variant. I finally realized that size isn’t necessarily an advantage, and thus the Jaeger-class was born.”

Shen was right. The design was almost like a suit of armor similar to the Aegis gear, albeit a bit bigger. But nothing like the Ballista or even Marauder-class MECs. “It’s be equipped with grappling and climbing gear,” Shen continued. “As well as a gauss weapon built directly into the arms for long-range sniping regular soldiers can’t perform.”

“An assassin MEC, essentially,” the Commander summed up, impressed that Shen had thought of that.

“I suppose that’s accurate,” Shen admitted. “Though it would have speed and strength that even genetically modified humans couldn’t match. Versatility is the most important aspect.”

The Commander looked at the designs. “I like it. However, I believe some kind of close-range weaponry should be added. Retractable blades or short-range ballistics.”

“I’ll look into adding that,” Shen promised. "And there is one more thing.” He pressed several buttons on the tablet and a very familiar design appeared before him. It was a UFO, but altered. The front half had been redesigned to be similar to a traditional cockpit and aerodynamic shape.

“Our own UFOs,” the Commander said quietly, looking at Shen. “You can make these?”

“The Firestorm project is still in planning phases,” Shen answered. “But we know enough to create a fighter powered by alien tech, far stronger than anything we have now.”

“Could it be made spaceworthy?”

“I’ve designed it with that in mind,” Shen answered with a nod. “I know we’ll need a fleet if we ever hope to defeat the aliens. But this will get us started. Hopefully once ADVENT is up and running, these designs can be utilized by them to build our fleet faster.”

“Well done,” the Commander said, inclining his head. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Doctor.”

He smiled at that. “I do my best, Commander. The fate of our species is at stake, after all.”

A sobering truth. “That it does. Do you have anything else?”

“No, Commander,” he answered. “At your command we can begin producing enough weapons and armor for our soldiers. I would request that we shift our focus to the Firestorm project and improving our MECs.”

“Granted,” the Commander confirmed quickly. “Thanks you, Shen.”

“My pleasure, Commander,” he answered. Saluting, he then went back to work and the Commander did the same. Now to see what Vahlen had been up to.

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

Sometimes a nap and shower was what was needed to feel better. As she headed to see Zhang, Abby felt as well as she probably could be, physically at least. Patricia had been away, so instead she’d just taken a shower and nap, while noting that it had been a rather long time since she’d had a solid night’s sleep.

Well, time to see what Zhang wanted her to do now. She didn’t think she’d get an apology from him if the Commander had talked to him, he wasn’t really the type to be sentimental, nor did she think he could really understand. Regardless of what he was doing now, he _had_ been part of the Triad. You didn’t gain influence there by being a decent person, although even now she didn’t think he was _bad_.

He was similar to the Commander. Both of them wanted to defeat the aliens and would do whatever it took to make that happen.

The doors to Intelligence Control slid open and Zhang was already waiting, standing over his holotable displaying a map of the United States. “Agent Gertrude,” he greeted. “Welcome back.”

She saluted briefly and walked up opposite him. “Thank you, Director.”

His expressionless face showed nothing, but he did incline his head towards her, the white light above him illuminating his silver hair and scar. “The effect of our operations against EXALT’s media network have worked. They are crippled inside the United States, largely thanks to your and others efforts. The information you gained on EXALT’s meddling in the election will also be put to good use.”

She just nodded. Right now she’d prefer if that mission was never brought up again. “What’s the next move?”

His lips twitched briefly, and his tone seemed slightly harsher as he answered. He clearly wasn’t a big fan of whatever he was going to say. “The short version is that we’ve scaling down operations against EXALT. The Commander has made efforts to ensure that they won’t be bothering us anymore, so we are going to focus on the aliens, as well as hostile nations.”

That lined up with what the Commander had said, but she did have questions about _how_ that had happened. “What efforts, exactly?”

“That is classified,” he answered curtly, leaving no room for doubt. Which either implied that something else was going on and operations were _not_ being stopped, or that the Commander had actually forced EXALT to back down. The latter seemed unlikely, since if that were true, why would he not simply finish them off with their soldiers?

Either way, it seemed she wasn’t going to find out. But there were some questions about the apparent future plans. “Define hostile nations,” she said. “And what actions we will take.”

“Hostile is a relative term,” Zhang clarified, handing her a file. “But it covers any nation actively attempting to hinder or oppose us diplomatically, economically or militarily. Canada, China and Australia are being watched now.”

Abby frowned. China made sense, to a degree, but Australia and Canada? “What are Canada and Australia doing?”

“Their councilors are causing trouble,” Zhang answered. “And they represent their governments feelings on XCOM. We will be moving into a more public role in the future, and their people will be leading the opposition against us. Once we no longer answer to the United Nations, they will speak out publically.”

Abby blinked. “How will we…we’re pulling out of the UN? The Council? Can we _do_ that?”

“The United Nations will not allow it, of course,” Zhang answered slowly. “But that is not a concern. The initial stages of the Demeter Contingency have been authorized.”

She had a bad feeling about that. “What is that?”

“What you’re holding in your hand now,” Zhang nodded towards the file. “In the event the Council and United Nations become a hindrance or threat to the defense of humanity, they will be dealt with.”

“You’re going to destroy the _United Nations?”_ Abby asked in disbelief, not entirely sure she was understanding correctly. “But… _why?_ Sure, they haven’t always been the most _supportive_ , but removing them entirely is…absurd. Sir!”

Zhang pursed his lips, and fixed her with his stone-gray eyes. “An invasion is coming, Agent Gertrude. The United Nations lacks the capability, power or resources to mount an effective defense, and as long as they exist, one which does accomplish that will not. It is an ineffective and powerless body, and incapable of uniting humanity by itself.”

“It’s a hell of a lot better than _nothing_ ,” she argued, momentarily forgetting how outranked she was. “If the United Nations falls, that is going to be a massive blow to morale, because even if it never really achieved it, the _appearance_ of the United Nations is important.”

Zhang unexpectedly smiled. Barely, but it was there. “The Commander is well aware of that, Agent. Do you really think we would remove an organization that large without a replacement?”

Abby blinked. “You _have_ one?”

“The leaders of the world are well aware of the failings of the UN,” Zhang continued. “And some are willing to start over with something that fixes the flaws of the old system and has the chance of actually uniting humanity.” He picked up another file. “This is the component to the Demeter Contingency, a Directive on how to proceed.”

She took the beige file apprehensively, opened it and saw a familiar word. “Advent?” She asked, looking up.

“The name of the Directive and organization itself,” Zhang confirmed. “I do believe the Commander was inspired by that operation we recovered from Israel. You need to understand what we are working to, Agent. If we are going to achieve a united humanity, people who oppose that are going to need to be removed. Do you understand that?”

She swallowed. “I do.”

At least he said _removed_ and not _killed_ or _executed_.

“Now as for your next assignment, I doubt it will take long,” Zhang continued, looking down at the map. “You are to recall agent Shira and her team. They were investigating Solaris Industries, and as EXALT is no longer a top priority, they are best used elsewhere. They dropped out of contact once they began, and their check-in isn’t for a few days. Days we can’t waste.”

A retrieval mission. Well, she wouldn’t complain, and it would be nice to see Ruth again. “How many and who?”

“As I said, agent Shira, along with agents Akello and Kalonymous,” Zhang answered. “You know how they operate, and their area of operations is small enough that it shouldn’t take long.”

Abby nodded. Yes, it probably wouldn’t take too long to track her down, although she wouldn’t be surprised if Akello found her before she found them. “When do I leave?”

“Within a couple hours,” Zhang answered. “Is that sufficient to prepare?”

She suppressed a sigh. Well, glad she’d rested when she did. “Good enough.”

“Then you have your mission,” Zhang nodded. “All relevant information will be forwarded to you. Once you’ve finished reading the files, destroy them. Our plans cannot be revealed yet. Understood?”

“Understood,” she confirmed.

“Dismissed, agent,” Zhang said. “Good luck.”

She saluted and left, looking down at the files that held the plans to either save the world, or destroy it for good.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

He was flying solo for this one.

Well, almost.

Mary was watching the general vicinity through the cameras, but otherwise he had the rest of his team holding back and keeping an eye out in other places in case the Chronicler showed up there. Besides, he didn’t want to spook Ruth. She was Kidon, so if she got any hint that she was being watched, she’d either bolt or worse. And he didn’t really want to track her down again.

Mary had managed to find her taking a meal in a nearby restaurant which was unsurprisingly close to Solaris Industries. He didn’t know what her plans were or why she was there, but the best situation was likely to just approach her directly and explain what was going on. She’d likely appreciate it more than subterfuge.

At least that was the plan.

He pushed open the door and took a quick look around. Typical restaurant setup. Small bar, tables and chairs spaced out relatively evenly with a few patrons sitting at them.

“Can I help you?” Cerian looked towards the young waitress waiting expectantly for his answer.

“No, thank you,” he answered. “I’m meeting a friend.”

He walked past her and made his way to where Ruth was sitting, a small table near a window looking out into the bustling streets. She was absentmindedly stirring her drink with one of the cheap plastic straws, a half-eaten sandwich in front of her. The Kidon agent herself was dressed in regular civilian garb, red shirt, unbuttoned jacket, jeans and leather boots. She looked almost normal, though just from how she passively observed everything around her he knew she was more than she appeared, even had he not known who he was.

She would have been classified as a ‘potential problem’ and he’d have definitely kept an eye on her. But as it stood, she could actually be a very useful asset. Ruth didn’t fail to notice him walking up, frowning, an expression that seemed unnatural on her face. She’d always seemed rather cheerful in pictures, so maybe that was why he thought that.

“Hello,” she greeted slowly, a clear warning in her tone. “Is there something you want?”

“To talk,” he said, keeping his tone normal as possible. “I know why you’re here. I know you’re with XCOM, agent Shira.”

Her expression didn’t change, but she tensed up microscopically, thought to most it would look like no reaction at all. She appraised him for a few seconds, furiously trying to figure out who he was. “I know you,” she muttered. “We’ve met before.”

“Yes, we did,” he said, taking the seat opposite her. “Paris, remember?”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Ah, yes. _That_. Well, that’s interesting. Perhaps you should explain who you are and why you’re here.”

“Cerian Irelan,” he answered, inclining his head. “Formerly of the United Nations, currently employed as an independent operative of the Council.”

“You’ve been spying on us,” she stated flatly. “I’m impressed you were able to do it without us noticing.”

“ _Observing_ ,” he corrected. “And I’m very good at what I do. I know how Kidon operatives work, and that doesn’t change, now employed by XCOM or not.”

“I see,” she said, pursing her lips. “And what exactly have you found out?”

“Why you’ve been conducting highly suspicious operations,” Cerian replied. “Russia, Paris, Israel. EXALT. It didn’t take me long to come to the same conclusions, which is why I’m here now. You want to investigate Solaris Industries too, correct?”

“Correct,” she nodded. “And since you’re speaking now, I can only assume that you succeeded or you need help.”

“Unfortunately, it is the latter,” he sighed and pulled out the picture of the Chronicler. “There is a major threat here. Have you ever seen this man before?” He handed her the picture.

“No,” she shook her head after looking at it for a few minutes. “I assume he’s an EXALT officer? Security chief?”

“Not as far as we know,” Cerian clarified. “He showed up a few weeks ago, and doesn’t appear to hold any rank, though they seem to let him go wherever he wants. He’s title is the ‘Chronicler’ or at least that’s what he calls himself, but we don’t know his official position, only that he’s very dangerous.”

“How?”

“He’s a psion.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Impossible.”

“Tell that to my dead partner,” Cerian responded evenly. “Or my other one who nearly killed me and herself because she was mind-controlled. Purple eyes, telekinesis, I know I didn’t imagine those things happening. Your intel may be wrong, but don’t tell me it’s _impossible_.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve met him.”

“Twice,” Cerian said. “The first time I didn’t know who he was, only that he knew things he shouldn’t. I decided to investigate since he had somehow compromised our operation and wanted to know more. We found his residence, but he knew we were coming and showed me who he really was. For whatever reason, he hasn’t warned EXALT, saying that they aren’t the real threat.”

“EXALT is working with the aliens,” Ruth said. “Unless he knows something we don’t, they’re as much a threat as them, not to mention global stability.”

“Agreed,” Cerian nodded. “Which is why he is now the threat we need to neutralize. I think we can both agree that EXALT having access to a psion isn’t good for anyone.”

“It still makes no sense,” Ruth muttered, rapping her fingers on the table. “If EXALT already has a psion, why are they trying to experiment with creating psions? Unless…”

“Unless they don’t know,” Cerian finished, nodding. He’d come to that theory after thinking about it some more. “Which would explain why he’s hesitant to reveal us. It would raise questions, especially if we were captured alive.”

“So then what is he doing?” Ruth wondered. “Is he using EXALT? Manipulating them for his own ends?”

“Possibly,” Cerian said. “But he’s a wild card beyond our control, and I’d prefer we not find out what his plans are. I hate to suggest it, but he needs to be killed. Interrogation isn’t an option, not with what he can do.”

“Citadel Command needs to know about this,” Ruth stated, shifting in her seat. “We didn’t come to fight a psion. We’re not prepared. We need backup.”

“If you call for backup, he’ll know you’re coming for him,” Cerian pointed out. “We’ll lose the chance to deal with him here and now. It’s not ideal, but if we want to kill him, it has to be now _and_ possibly get what we need from Solaris Industries.”

Ruth laced her fingers together. “And I assume you have a plan?”

“That depends on if you would be willing to work with me.”

She cocked her head slightly and gave a small smile. “I think that removing a hostile psion would be in all our interests. Tell me your plan.”

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

The Commander looked at the stress ball in his hand and took a breath. Time to try this again. He looked directly at the ball, focused on it and willed it to rise. _Up_. The air became distorted around it, and with growing excitement he watched it rise a few millimeters. _Higher_. It continued rising until it was hovering a few inches above his hand.

He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain the hold a few seconds longer. _Three…two…one_. The ball fell snugly into his hand again as the world came into focus once more. He tucked the ball into his pocket and began walking forward. That was the best so far, not exactly the most impressive things he’d done, but he was getting better. Now he just needed to do it without the world fading around him.

Which was the biggest problem so far. He couldn’t seem to _do_ anything without concentrating on it at the extent of all else. That said, he had only had these abilities for barely a day. All things considered he could be worse.

The glass doors to the Labs swished open and he stepped inside, enjoying the blast of air that accompanied it. A few dozen scientists were all working on various projects, looking through microscopes and a few were working on the autopsy of those Muton Elites they’d recovered. He stood still for a few seconds, looking around for…

 _There_.

He made his way to Vahlen who was looking intently through a microscope. Upon reaching her, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder, making her look up. “Commander,” she greeted with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Moira,” he answered, returning the smile. “Busy?”

“I actually wanted to discuss this,” she explained, picking up a small vial filled with a bluish liquid. “Recognize it?”

“The blood we recovered from the Ethereal,” he recalled, looking at her with new interest. “Have you learned anything?”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Possibly. This wasn’t an uncontaminated sample, so I put a portion through filters and kept the rest as found. Neither may be an accurate reflection, but I came to the same conclusions from both.”

The Commander nodded. “Which are?”

Vahlen handed him a tablet showing a complicated-looking chart which he could only assume was linked to the blood in some way. Well, he might as well look at this incomprehensible gibberish. “The blood itself is highly acidic,” Vahlen began. “Not enough to eat through steel, but enough to seriously wound an unsuspecting human.”

“Is that natural?” The Commander asked, looking up. “Wouldn’t that damage their bodies?”

“I’m assuming they modified their bodies extensively to tolerate the enhanced acidity,” Vahlen continued. “But I think that the acidity itself is a result of genetic modification and not natural intrinsically. Because from what I can extrapolate, it seems like an Ethereal is immune to all forms of sickness and poison.”

“So the blood is acidic to make it kill anything hostile?” The Commander guessed.

Vahlen frowned, clearly not liking his highly unscientific answer. “In a sense…” she began slowly. “But it’s more an extrapolation. If the Ethereals have the capability to modify even their blood, it’s not much of a stretch to make themselves immune to nearly all kinds of ailments.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “You’re guessing.”

“Forming a theory based on coincidental data,” she corrected. “But…essentially. I’m trying to get a complete DNA recreation, but it’s difficult without a tissue sample. Blood is useful, but it doesn’t have what I need to create a complete picture.”

“It’s more than we had before,” the Commander reminded her. “And useful information, regardless.”

“Hmm, true,” she agreed, resting lightly against the white table. “I would likely find more with more time, but I didn’t expect this in the first place, and other projects have taken priority.”

“As they should,” the Commander agreed, then motioned back to where the few scientists were performing their autopsy. “Learn anything about the Elites?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Vahlen nodded, her eagerness showing on her face and emotions. “Each one has been extensively modified and enhanced in nearly all aspects. They are nearly invulnerable killing machines that won’t stop until they are dead. Excluding their size and strength, their mind provided the newest insight.”

She reached over and flipped the image on the tablet to an image of what looked like a brain, with different parts mapped out and noted on. “Their minds are programmed,” she explained excitedly. “Well…to an extent. But there are clear similarities, commands wired directly into the brain itself. Simple statements that nonetheless kick in unconsciously.”

The Commander looked at her, hoping she picked up that he needed more examples. “Clarify?”

“Right,” she nodded. “In the case of the Muton Elite, there is clearly a command similar to an IF statement wired into the brain. You know what that is, right?”

The Commander nodded. He wasn’t a programming expert, but some concepts weren’t that hard to understand. “Right.”

“So the command is essentially, ‘If pain level is greater than tolerable threshold, turn off pain sensors,’” she explained. “A crude and simple command, but one that works. The brain controls every aspect of the body, including shutting down organs…or ignoring pain. This has obvious disadvantages, but these commands might ensure the subject lives in a dangerous situation.”

The Commander immediately saw where she was going with this. “You’ve applied it to the Manchurian Program.”

“Correct,” she smiled, satisfaction emanating off her. “And _successfully_.”

The Commander blinked. “Already?”

“I was already close,” Vahlen explained, motioning him to follow. “But that muton was the final key.”

Vahlen reached the door to the Genetics Lab and entered her code. The door slid open and they walked forward. “How have you applied it?” The Commander asked.

“I’m working to perfect simple statements,” Vahlen explained. “Mostly modified IF statements and basic subroutines. Audio commands are the easiest method of implementation so far, which I’ve been experimenting with.”

The second door to the Genetics Lab slid open and revealed more scientists working on dissections, experiments and operating complicated equipment. Vahlen led him over to a corner where a human male was standing stoically, head down and eyes closed, with an IV attached to his arm.

“This is subject twelve,” Vahlen introduced. “Patient Zero for the Manchurian Program.”

“I assume he’s under control if he’s out of the cells?” He asked as he looked over the seemingly sleeping subject.

“Yes,” Vahlen confirmed as she removed the IV. “I wanted to work with a black slate before moving to incorporating commands in a conscious subject. I’ve ‘reset’ him for lack of a better word. He’s alive, but cannot comprehend anything so he poses no threat. But that makes him ideal for testing commands.” She stepped back. “Command: Awake.”

Instantaneously the man’s head jerked up and his eyes opened. It was odd to watch. The eyes were blank and the face expressionless, as he didn’t respond to anything, not even the two of them. He just stared sightlessly ahead. “He doesn’t see anything?” The Commander asked slowly, resisting the urge to wave his hand in front of the man.

“He sees it,” Vahlen clarified. “But he doesn’t understand anything. He can’t compute it, to put it into programming terms. He is the living equivalent of a simple C++ or Java program.”

“And what can this program do?”

“Command: Walk forward,” she ordered, and the man began walking at a slow, but steady pace. He just kept walking straight, directly towards a table.

“Is he going to stop?” The Commander asked as he watch the man get closer.

“Command: Stop,” Vahlen called, and the man immediately came to a halt. Turning back to the Commander, she continued. “No, impact detection wasn’t part of it. I might add that later, but he will keep walking until given the command to stop. Be it into a table or off a cliff.”

“Interesting,” the Commander muttered, eyeing the man. He couldn’t really sense him psionically either. He _existed_ , but had essentially no brain functions. Much like a MEC soldier, only somehow worse. An unnatural state between living and dead.

“Command: Shutdown,” Vahlen ordered and the man lowered his head and closed his eyes, standing perfectly still.

“How long do you think it will take for more complex commands?” The Commander asked.

“The commands themselves are not the difficult part,” Vahlen said, making some notes on her tablet. “It’s integrating them with an existing personality without destroying it that’s going to pose the greatest challenge.”

Which was the most crucial aspect. He really just wanted a check on psions, a means to which they could be harmlessly neutralized if they went rogue. A way to utilize sleeper agents with no fear of betrayal. He didn’t want empty automatons, dead men walking. But that was a process, and Vahlen was accomplishing it quicker than he honestly expected.

“Well done,” he complimented. “What other updates do you have?”

Another burst of satisfaction emanated from Vahlen. “I believe it’s time to utilize the Sectoid Virus,” she answered, motioning him to follow as she approached the subject cells. “The testing has gone on long enough to put it into action.”

The Commander nodded, eager to see what she had in store. Vahlen unlocked the door, and both of them stepped into the white room filled with glass walls and broken people. The stark white of the room and its cleanliness contrasted with the living beings around him. Terror. Resignation. Pain. Hopelessness. The defiance that he’d seen in the early days was gone.

The subjects were huddled against the back walls, eyeing the two of the fearfully, praying that they wouldn’t be next. Praying for something to happen to free them from the hell they were trapped in. Were they not deserving of this, the Commander might have wondered if this was going too far. But unfortunately for them, this was perfectly justified.

This was simply what they deserved.

The genetic abominations were gone, and the cells contained more than just humans. At the far end were three cells containing Sectoids, all at apparently different stages of the virus. They stopped at the first one. The gray alien was moving, eyeing them blearily with its golden eyes, but not moving too much.

“This is one week after being infected with the virus,” Vahlen explained. “From what I have observed, the nervous system is affected the most immediately. The sectoids don’t like moving, and their psionic ability is disrupted as well. I would compare it to a bad cold in human terms. Bad, but endurable.”

The Commander looked into the second cell, which was a night and day difference. The pale skin on the creature was swollen, engorged into an almost transparent sheen. The cell was spattered with yellow liquids, as was the creature itself. Pus and blood was leaking from its nose and eyes, and the eyes themselves seemed almost shriveled, like a dried piece of fruit. The alien was still moving, but barely, shuffling back and forth in a trail of its own blood and fluids.

“The end of week two,” Vahlen continued as she eyed the pitiful alien, cold satisfaction emanating from her. “The body is beginning to break down into its basic components. The skin and eyes first, as well as the internal organs. As you can see, the alien is completely incapacitated, and unable to function properly beyond simple movement.”

The Commander nodded and they moved to the final cell. The thing inside was almost unrecognizable. Lying in a puddle of its own blood, fluids and body parts, laid the sectoid. The gray skin it had was gone, presumably melted off. Most of the muscles were either dissolved completely or broken and withered. The eyes were simply sockets, smothered in yellow goop that had once been the eyes. The skull, ribs and joints he could see to varying degrees. The alien was motionless, but the Commander could sense it was somewhat alive. Somehow.

“Week three,” Vahlen finished. “The skin, muscles, eyes and organs are broken down, ultimately killing the sectoid in the most debilitating and painful way possible. This subject will likely expire later today, once the brain or heart breaks apart.”

It was horrendous, unusual and cruel. Which was exactly what he wanted. The sectoids might not care about themselves, but the Ethereals, Vitakara, maybe even the mutons would see what was happening and wonder if something similar would happen to them. They would feel terror, fear, horror, and their morale would suffer.

If nothing else, it sent a clear and indisputable message.

“Exactly what I wanted,” the Commander stated approvingly, turning to Vahlen standing straight with pride. “And you’re certain there are no adverse effects on humans.”

“Completely,” Vahlen confirmed, pointing to the cell next to the week-three sectoid. “Subject Seven has been exposed to the completed version of the virus, multiple times as well and has shown no ill effects.” The Commander looked over the cowering man in the cell. Yes, he looked perfectly fine, and Vahlen wouldn’t have given her word if she wasn’t completely sure.

“Do you think this could affect the Hive Commanders as well?” He asked.

“Perhaps to some degree, since they share similar DNA,” Vahlen answered with a shrug. “But without a live subject, I can’t know for certain. If they are affected, it will not be as intense, and potentially survivable. But against the main sectoid force it will work without a doubt.”

“Then we need to determine how to deploy it as soon as possible,” the Commander said. “The Sectoids seem to control their ships, so if we could distribute the virus now, it could significantly hamper their fleet.”

“You have a plan?” Vahlen asked inquisitively.

“An idea,” the Commander mused. “Two, actually. But that will be for everyone. You have something else?”

“Right this way,” Vahlen led him to another cell on the far end, but this one had a chryssalid inside. The cell to the right held another sectoid, and to the left held a human who was pushed as far away from the alien as possible. The chryssalid itself seemed oddly calm, occasionally scuttling around, but otherwise didn’t seem aggressive.

“You actually managed to grow one,” the Commander noted, impressed.

“Thanks to the Sectoid cloning equipment,” Vahlen revealed, looking on her creation proudly. “Utilizing it, we can create as many as needed for when the time comes. I did make some adjustments to the alien beyond its interpretation of human life.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve removed its ability to reproduce,” she answered. “It was too much of a risk, and I felt it could get out of control too easily. To compensate for that, I’ve increased the lifespan significantly, allowing it to be utilized for up to six months, as well as enhancing it’s chitin plating, strength and eyesight.”

“And making it hunt aliens,” the Commander added.

“That too,” Vahlen agreed. “Although all I’ve really done is simply alter the response it has to detecting alien and human pheromones or scents.  If I’ve done this correctly, it should…ignore humans, only treat them as vegetation or inanimate objects, whereas aliens will trigger the instinct to attack and kill.”

“I assume this is the test?” The Commander asked, nodding towards the cells.

“I wanted you here for it,” Vahlen confirmed. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

Vahlen walked up to the panel in front of the chryssalid cell, and a few seconds later the glass wall separating the chryssalid and sectoid rose. The chryssalid didn’t waste a second and charged the chittering sectoid which scrambled back, but to no avail as the alien beast began tearing its apart, yellow blood staining its mouth and purple plates. Its claws ripped the body to shreds, killing it within seconds. Once finished, it scuttled around, clearly looking for more.

“Now for the real test,” Vahlen muttered, and began manipulating the keypad again and the glass wall between the human and beast opened up. The chryssalid turned around at the sound, and began slowly making its way over to the human. Not as a hostile, but in apparent curiosity. It stopped a couple of feet from the terrified human, looked around, apparently got bored, and began walking the other way.

The Commander smiled.

“It worked,” Vahlen breathed, relief evident in her voice and feelings. “I did it.”

“Never had any doubt,” the Commander congratulated. “Thanks to you we have another weapon to unleash on the Ethereals.”

“Yes,” she agreed, turning to him. “Now that I know the genetic code is sound, I can grow more. Once the Manchurian Program becomes more sophisticated, I could implement commands in them, allowing our soldiers to order them. But as of right now, I think only psions could manipulate them successfully.”

“Have you tried?” He asked.

“A bit,” Vahlen answered, glancing back at the chryssalid. “Its mind is far different. Simpler, but scattered. I’ll practice on it some later.”

“Well, I’d say you’ve earned your pay here,” the Commander said. “You’ve definitely done more than even I thought.”

“You trusted me with this,” Vahlen reminded him. “I only want to validate that trust.”

There was a brief silence. “Speaking of which…” the Commander looked at her. “I think you deserve a break. A short one, at least. Besides, we need to talk.”

No smart quip in response, but she did smile. “I think so too. Sometime this evening? Your office?”

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “See you then, Moira.”

“You too,” she answered quietly. “You too.”

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

“I’ll admit it, he’s a good shot.” Iosif said as they watched the two soldiers take turns shooting a stationary target. While not as in-depth as the actual shooting range, it was sufficient and not many people took advantage of that, preferring to use the training area for more physical training.

Still, Iosif was right. Chan Jin-Taek was an excellent shot. All of the North Korean soldiers that had recently arrived were some of the best Patricia had ever seen. She was more familiar with their capabilities, having access to all their files and had been one of the few who’d gone through and approved the list together with the Commander.

Nearly forty soldiers had arrived, bringing their total soldier count to just over sixty, excluding MEC soldiers. Good enough, and she suspected that all of them would be needed over the coming days. All were drawn from the best of the best, all across the world. So far they were intermingling well for the most part. The training area was packed with people, making it difficult for her to get a general sense of the people around, but she wanted to observe to make sure the first few days didn’t get out of hand.

Luckily the North Koreans had tended to keep to themselves, apparently knowing that they weren’t exactly viewed favorably, even after the alliance was announced. Most of the soldiers seemed to be keeping them at a distance initially, more guarded than anything else, because how _did_ you treat a person who’d grown up and indoctrinated in a country that was so opposite to one most people lived in. Though the North Koreans did seem happy to talk if approached, and apparently also willing to have shooting contests as Lesedi had asked to have a shooting match.

Chan had just missed the center, leaving an opportunity for Lesedi to get ahead. He stepped back and Lesedi stepped up and raised her gauss sniper rifle. The Recces operative took a breath, and fired. Patricia cocked her head, trying to see where she’d hit.

“Not bad,” Chan said, narrowing his eyes at the target in the distance. “Nearly on mine.”

“I think we’re even,” Lesedi responded, setting the rifle to the side, turning around to walk back to the smaller Korean man. “This is three for three, unless you want another round?”

Chan gave a humorless smile, one that fit his oddly childish face well. “No need, you’ve proved you’re skilled. Admittedly surprising.”

Oh dear. Patricia frowned as she heard that, but Lesedi simply chuckled. “Get used to it,” she told Chan as she walked past, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “That’s how you get challenged to the ring.”

Chan looked somewhat confused, but apparently didn’t feel the need to comment further, instead shrugging and grabbing his rifle. “Impressive,” a new voice said. “I believe that is the first time Chan has found someone who can match him.”

Patricia turned to see another woman, one of the North Koreans, who she’d identified as the unofficial leader of the group. A large scar from the corner of her left eye down her cheek marred her tan complexion, which really only added to her already serious demeanor. Her emotional state reflected it, a combination of control, intensity and pride.

Pride. If that was one thing that made the North Koreans easy to identify, it was that. They had a fervent loyalty and national pride that she’d never seen or felt in any soldiers. Not even the Americans were as patriotic as them. It wasn’t a blind loyalty either, these soldiers had a true dedication to their country that she found fascinating.

It made sense to some extent, since she was certain that each soldier was indoctrinated from birth to believe in the ideals and superiority of North Korea. But could that really last this fervently without it being at least somewhat justified?

“He wasn’t bad either,” Iosif commented, bringing her back to the current conversation.

“We’ve been trained for years,” she answered, clasping her hands behind her back. “I would be disappointed if we couldn’t hold our own.”

“Iida, correct?” Patricia asked, remembering her from the file.

“Correct, Psion Trask,” Iida confirmed, inclining her head. “Formerly an officer of North Korea’s Anti-alien division.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she answered. “I suppose we’re fortunate your military could spare some soldiers for XCOM.”

“XCOM is ground zero in this war,” Iida stated. “Unlike some others, the Supreme Leader understand the threat facing us, and will devote as many resources as possible to ensure we succeed, including sending his best soldiers.”

“How ironic that he’s treating this more seriously than most,” Iosif commented thoughtfully. “Nothing against him personally, but I didn’t expect him to be at the forefront of this.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Iida said neutrally. “Unless you’ve been raised there, it’s difficult to comprehend, especially with the amount of propaganda about him and my country.”

“Which is not entirely unwarranted,” Iosif added. “North Korea isn’t exactly the bastion of freedom and tolerance.”

Iida simply raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. You’re Russian, correct? Special forces?” She paused, looking up briefly as she thought. “CT agent? Spetsnaz?”

“The former,” Iosif confirmed. “And while Russia admittedly has a very checkered past to put it lightly, at the moment we’re doing better than you in those criteria.”

Iida simply cocked her head. “You say that is if it is something to aspire to. Unchecked and absolute freedom is dangerous. People are too easily swayed, too easily controlled to make informed decisions. Decry our state if it makes you feel better, but there is a reason we are more prepared to handle the invasion than others.”

“And what reason is that?” Patricia asked carefully.

“Because the Supreme Leader has rallied the populace,” Iida answered proudly. “Turned the efforts of an entire nation towards the defense against the aliens; inspiring them to work to a goal beyond themselves. Our citizens are not driven by selfishness or self-preservation, but by a common goal that they all believe can be accomplished.”

“You don’t think that’s a little worrying?” Iosif asked, frowning. “Having a populace in such a malleable state could easily be turned to chaos. What if someone else not quite as noble as the Supreme Leader takes control?”

“Supreme Leader Gwan has contingencies in place in the event of his death,” Iida answered. “Not a surprise, of course. But he’s well aware of the weaknesses of his government, but ultimately, it is the best one available.”

What Iosif was clearly struggling with was that…to be perfectly honest…North Korea wasn’t a dystopian state. Patricia had read everything that XCOM had on the country, its people and leadership…and it was eye-opening. The Supreme Leader hadn’t lied. For all intents and purposes, the population _was_ being treated well, crime was almost non-existent and it had one of the most productive populaces in the world, with an advanced military to match.

Iseul Gwan was a dictator in the most traditional sense. He was judge, jury and executioner over the entire nation. It was built in his vision, with opposition swiftly crushed and dissidents silenced.

But he was a _good_ dictator, at least as good as someone like that could get. It made sense that Iida was so fervently loyal to him and so convinced that North Korea was an almost perfect state. Not only had she been conditioned to believe that her whole life, but had actually seen the effects of totalitarianism implemented _positively_. Unlike similar failed states, Patricia couldn’t point to an impoverished populace, extrajudicial killings or government corruption as proof that Gwan’s government was wrong.

And she wasn’t convinced it _was_ completely wrong, and if the Advent Directive was anything to go by, the Commander clearly believed that some aspects were worth preserving. What was the saying? _Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others._

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced the quote was wrong. It wasn’t so much the form of government that mattered, as much as the execution. Democracies could be worse than dictatorships and vice-versa, but it largely depended on the people putting them into place that determined their ultimate success or failure.

“So why did you join the military?” Patricia asked, ready to change the subject, and to hopefully shed some light on how North Korean life was.

“I was chosen when I was fourteen for military service,” Iida answered proudly. “After I was transferred to our military academy, I made it my goal to become part of the leadership. A few years of training later and I became an officer, one of the youngest to do so. Recently I was moved to our anti-alien division after the Supreme Leader created it, and had been working to improve and command it, until my transfer to XCOM.”

Iosif narrowed his eyebrow. “How old _are_ you?”

“Twenty,” she answered simply.

“Really?” Iosif couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “That seems awfully young.”

“According to your standards, yes,” Iida nodded. “Although if military training and schooling were combined, I suspect that it would be more common.”

“Question,” Patricia said. “Do you have combat experience?”

“Unfortunately not,” Iida admitted, a little shame emanating from her. “Combat operations are only for veterans, which have mostly consisted of retaliation strikes against South Korean terrorists. I suspect that had a truce not been agreed upon, and I wasn’t transferred to XCOM, that I would have seen combat soon enough.”

Iosif and Patricia exchanged a look. “Some advice,” Patricia cautioned. “I would be careful mentioning South Korea around Carmelita. She likely won’t take kindly to being called a terrorist.”

“I’ve been appraised on the current roster of South Koreans,” Iida answered calmly. “They’ve fought at the behest of their leaders, and I bear them no ill-will because of it. They follow orders as do we. But I will not mischaracterize them. They performed attacks against the state, and by extension the people. That is terrorism.”

“They didn’t kill civilians though,” Patricia pointed out. “It was military targets.”

“Our state is like a machine,” Iida explained. “Disrupting it affects everyone. When the terrorists sabotage our factories they are directly hurt the people who rely on those jobs to provide for their families. When they take out the power to our cities they kill the patients in our hospitals. When they attack our soldiers they sow fear, division and distrust within the civilians. _Terror_ , Iosif. They are not looked upon as _heroes_ , but _terrorists_ fighting for misguided and meaningless ideals. Fighting on behalf of a populace that does not _want_ their help. Tell me, has South Korea ever asked if our citizens want to be freed from this ‘tyranny’?”

“I highly doubt the Supreme Leader would let them give an honest answer,” Iosif said. “That’s the equivalent of a criminal being asked if he’s sorry he committed a crime while on trial. You’re not going to get an answer other than the one you want, not because they believe it, but because they _have no choice._ ”

“But it _isn’t_ a lie,” Iida insisted. “Our people are _content_.”

“Perhaps,” Patricia interjected thoughtfully. “But are they really? Or is it only because they don’t know any better?”

Iida pursed her lips. “Does it matter?”

“Depends on the goals, I suppose,” Iosif shrugged. “For a controlled populace, probably not. But if you want to change people’s opinions of your country, it does. How can you say the people are truly content if they haven’t been exposed to anything else?”

Iida frowned. “Just because something is different doesn’t mean that it is wrong.”

Patricia sensed that this wasn’t going to lead anywhere. Iida wasn’t going to change her mind, and she suspected Iosif wasn’t either. “There is no perfect government,” she said. “Each has good and bad, but that can be debated later. Both of you aren’t going to change your minds, so perhaps you should step back before both of you create a shouting match. I’d prefer to avoid that here.”

Iida gave a quick nod. “Understood, Psion Trask.”

“If you insist,” Iosif sighed.

“Work off your stress some other way,” Patricia said, motioning to the training mat. “Maybe have a quick match.”

Iosif snorted. “That wouldn’t be a fair match.”

“I could swear that was a challenge,” Iida stated, grabbing his arm and guiding him towards the mat. “Go on and try me.”

Patricia snorted as they walked off. She didn’t really have an interest in seeing how this played out, but figured they’d keep it civil. Well, as civil as could be. In the meantime, she needed to find Creed. There was something both of them finally needed to talk about and she didn’t think she was needed here, everyone was getting along and unless something major changed, it would stay that way.

Leaving the mass of soldiers behind, she strode out the door towards the barracks.

***

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

He really wished something would happen.

At this point he could only really assume that the Commander was still trying to figure out what to do with him, too busy to decide or had simply forgotten. The latter he didn’t really believe, so it was a question of the first two. He had the feeling there were important decisions being made, but it was maddening not being able to know what they were. The guards wouldn’t tell him, and no one had bothered keeping him in the loop.

Thus he could only speculate.

There was an Ethereal in play. That he knew for certain, and one he hadn’t seen before. Likely the replacement for Sicarius. Which was good in that it meant that the Ethereals were still treating this more or less as an experiment, continuously pushing to see what the humans could do. But the very fact that an Ethereal had showed itself meant that the endgame was near.

 _Very_ near.

So what _was_ going to be the endgame? Nartha supposed that it would ultimately come down to if the Ethereals managed to find the Citadel. They wipe out XCOM and it was over, and they could easily subvert the fractured human governments, possibly through EXALT. In fact, they would likely use EXALT as the human face of the Collective. A way to show the humans that everything was alright and they could be trusted.

A moderately bloodless invasion could be easily spun. If humanity could be enticed to surrender without a fight…no, that was impossible at this stage. The existence of extraterrestrial life wasn’t a hidden secret. People knew about the aliens….him…they knew and they were hated by enough people to make any sort of peace impossible.

Not unless the leadership was purged. In which he could see Sicarius, together with the Zararch, carrying it out. The other solution was even simpler.

Just invade.

Despite the Commander’s efforts, human technology wasn’t advanced enough to protect them. With several Ethereals leading the charge, defeat would be inevitable. Essentially, humanity’s survival hinged on the Commander. If he fell, if XCOM fell, everything would be lost. No contingency plan he had would change that.

As it stood now, even that was a long shot.

The cell door squeaked open and he looked up in surprise. Well, it seemed he was getting a visitor. Finally. Although it wasn’t the Commander who walked through, or anyone else from his Internal Council. Instead it was Shun, who seemed fully recovered more or less from her injuries. She closed the door and just stood still, appraising him under her inquisitive gaze.

“I knew something was off about you,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I thought you were here to watch XCOM for the Japanese, maybe even keep an eye out on the Chinese soldiers here.” She took a few steps towards him until she was right before him, looking down on the seated alien. “I did _not_ expect that you’d not even be human.”

“I’d not be a good spy if I wanted you to think that,” Nartha answered. “But yes, I deceived everyone here.”

“And they betrayed your own species,” she finished, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite him. “Not what I’d expect from a spy, and from what I heard, your reasoning was surprisingly straightforward. You did it because you think we can win."

“You have a _chance_ of winning,” Nartha corrected. “Which is admittedly more than any other species I’ve encountered. The Ethereals are clever, they search for species that are still developing, who are far weaker, and then are assimilated if they prove useful. That is a stacked deck if I’ve ever heard one. The fact that you are still standing is a sign that things are different. Not everything can be chalked up to the Ethereal’s experiments. Humanity poses a challenge, if not a threat. You can’t understand exactly how unprecedented that is.”

“I’d expect so, given who you are,” Shun nodded, clasping her hands together. “But you don’t need to defend yourself. I wanted to thank you for doing it.”

Nartha blinked. Hmm, this was interesting. “Thank me?”

“You might be the reason we’ll win,” she shrugged. “You could have just kept playing your role, and I doubt we would have suspected anything for a while. But you didn’t. It took courage to do what you did, and I can respect you taking a risk even if meant you might die.”

“Death wasn’t really a concern,” Nartha felt obligated to add. “I didn’t think the Commander would kill me. Not until he heard what I had to say.”

“He is predictable that way,” Shun agreed, brushing her hair back. “One of the reasons I’m still here, actually.”

Nartha cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him in confusion, before her eyes flashed in realization. “Ah, right. You were in here, which means you’ve missed a lot. Short version is that China withdrew from the Council. After I recovered I received orders recalling me. I resigned and here I am.”

He was honestly somewhat surprised. Shun had been rather loyal to the Chinese, even defending them in some cases. That she’d quit, even in protest, and they let her said a lot. “I suspect they weren’t happy?”

“The Chinese aren’t grandiose,” Shun sighed. “They were perfectly fine in the end. Dishonorable discharge and essential exile from China. I’ve likely been blacklisted and stripped from all records. I’ll likely never be able to go back without being arrested, I’m as good as a traitor to them.”

She looked forlorn as she said that, resignation in every word. She was upset, but clearly at peace with her situation. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “But I’m glad you stayed. XCOM needs people like you.”

“Not your fault, I knew what I was doing,” Shun said sadly. “But I don’t understand it. My superiors aren’t stupid. We’re better than this… _infighting_. People already look down upon my country, and this is only going to make us look worse. And the Commander is going to reduce China’s influence to nothing, strip it in retaliation for what he sees as a betrayal. The worst part is that I don’t even blame him. It doesn’t make sense.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. It seemed she’d wanted to get that out for a while now, though he wondered why she’d said it to him. Perhaps because he’d been friendly to her when people were more suspicious? Was it as simple as that? “How do you know the Commander will do that?” He asked. “For all his influence, the Commander is not omnipotent.”

“Because of what he’s done already,” Shun said, looking up. “XCOM is allied with all of China’s enemies. Taiwan. ASEAN. Mongolia. North Korea if you can believe it. He’s sending a clear message to China and the other countries are taking note.”

ASEAN. If he remembered correctly, that was a coalition of nations that were banded together to give themselves a better chance against superpowers like China, and quite a few were in and near the South China Sea which he knew was a sensitive issue among them. Who was in it? The Philippines, Thailand…if XCOM had made an alliance with them, then that was big. Taiwan was more symbolic, but was still a victory, as was Mongolia and….

He blinked as he registered the other country Shun had mentioned. “ _North_ _Korea?”_

“Yes,” she nodded. “He brokered a peace treaty between the North and South too while he was at it.”

He shook his head in disbelief. _That_ development he hadn’t expected, though it was greatly reassuring to hear that the Commander was making large diplomatic strides across the world. Even regimes like North Korea would be essential in the coming invasion. “Interesting. But I don’t think you have to worry about your country. China is not going to be reduced to nothing. It has a role to play and I suspect that the Commander has a plan.”

She pursed her lips. “So do I, and that worries me.”

He couldn’t disagree, because he saw what she was worried about. Attacking China and imposing a new government would be so outlandish as to be unbelievable, but with the resources of XCOM, the MECs and psions….that might not be far off. But such an act would create chaos, and Nartha also believed that was the last thing the Commander wanted to deal with right now.

“What else has happened?” He asked after a minute or so had passed. “Anything of note?”

“That Ethereal attacked New York,” she said, shifting in her seat as she crossed one leg over the other.

He winced. He could imagine. “How bad was it? How many died?”

“Civilians?” She paused, her eyes dimming as she recalled. “Several million, including Marines. We fortunately only lost a couple of our own, although we barely managed to push back the Ethereal. Patricia and Iosif only barely managed to delay the Ethereal long enough for help to arrive.”

Nartha blinked, not sure he was hearing correctly. “Wait. You _won_?”

“I wasn’t on the mission itself,” Shun corrected. “But we won in the sense that we forced the Ethereal to retreat.”

A new stirring of optimism appeared inside him. He actually let out a laugh. “That’s excellent! Do you even know how big that is? You fought an Ethereal and _didn’t die!_ ”

“An achievement everything is grateful for,” Shun agreed, cracking a smile. “But I watched the cams…it could have easily gone the other way.”

“But it _didn’t_ ,” Nartha insisted excitedly, smiling. “XCOM faced an Ethereal and lived to tell about it. That’s _unheard_ of. Not unless the Ethereal planned it, and by the sounds of it, he didn’t.”

“Agreed,” Shun said, returning the smile. “But maybe these aliens are more manipulative than we thought.”

A sobering thought, which did bring him back to reality somewhat. “Unfortunately a possibility. Ethereals aren’t normal…they don’t think like us. They make plans in the years, not months like humans. But even this is more than should be possible, but if this was unplanned…this Ethereal will likely retaliate.”

“I think we’re all expecting that,” Shun nodded, her voice slipping back to resigned. “I guess it depends where it happens. Another city, or even here.”

“At least if it happens here you’ll be prepared,” Nartha remembered. “The Atlas Protocol is still in effect, correct?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But…well, I’m not sure I would pose a threat to it. Something like that scares me.”

She sounded almost embarrassed by that. He didn’t know why, since anyone who didn’t feel that way had a highly questionable mental state. “You should be. No single normal human can stand up to an Ethereal and live. Only psions could, and that’s theoretical.”

Shun sighed. “It’s not just that. Psionics in general unnerve me. No one says anything, and everyone seems to be ok with it just because Patricia is in charge. But it’s unnatural. I don’t like the idea of me being controlled and never knowing it.”

Nartha sighed. “Trust me, I know that feeling. On the bright side, being around Patricia isn’t nearly as intense as an Ethereal.”

“You probably would,” she nodded, the paused for a few seconds before continuing. “What’s it like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He instinctively shivered as he recalled the memories. “Both unnerving and not. Simply being around an Ethereal warps your mind, changes how you think in real time. You _know_ this isn’t right, but you’re powerless to do anything about it. You’re at the mercy of whatever the Ethereal wants you to think. One Ethereal commanded respect, awe and resolve. The Battlemaster, he’s called. A warrior that you immediately felt emboldened by and loyal to simply by standing near him a few seconds. Another was an Ethereal called Sicarius, one who simply observed as a shadow, removing herself from my mind until I forgot she was there. There is no privacy, no control when dealing with Ethereals. You only hope the effect isn’t painful or prolonged.”

She shuddered. “I’m not sure how you could be alright with that. It’s the deepest violation someone can perform on another. The mind should be a sanctuary that can’t be accessed just on a whim.”

“To be honest, I never really thought about it much,” Nartha revealed. “Ethereals were always on another level from anyone else. I never really… _worried_ , or even really comprehended that my mind was being violated. I just…accepted it, I guess. I had nothing to hide. I was loyal. It was expected, no one challenges the Ethereals or questions them without reason.”

“Indoctrination,” Shun said. “I guess that makes sense. I really hope that the Commander understands how dangerous these powers are.”

“I’m sure he does,” Nartha told her slowly. “But I don’t think he views them in that way. Everything is a tool to him, which can be used for good or bad. Used to his advantage or detriment. He doesn’t use tools that aren’t reliable, so I suspect he has a way to keep psions in check.”

“Even on himself?” She questioned. “He recently was determined as a psion. Would he put a check on himself?”

Another interesting development, and one he wasn’t really sure how he felt about. The more advantages the Commander had, the better. But as a psion…one like the Commander able to manipulate the gift was a terrifying thought. But the question was a good one, and while the Commander did seem like he would be one to impose a check on himself…he could really go with the truth. “I don’t know,” he admitted, looking down. “People do have great plans until they are affected personally. It’s not exclusive to your species. I’d like to think he would, but I don’t know.”

“No reason you would,” she said with a nod. Both of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Shun looking at him intently. “So what about you?” She finally said, lacing her slim fingers together. “You seem very…calm. Content, almost.”

Nartha shrugged and leaned against the cold stone wall. “I’m still alive, which I’m grateful for. I can’t really do anything until the Commander decides what to do with me. All I can do is think, pace and theorize. It is boring, to be perfectly honest.”

“A terrible fate,” she teased wryly. “Well, I can sympathize and if you’d be alright with it, I’d like to ask some questions.”

He raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“You, your species,” she said, as if it was obvious. “I wasn’t kidding when we had those retrospectively awkward conversations. I’m curious about the aliens. I want to know more, if you’re willing to talk.”

He straightened up and looked at her with new interest. Another unexpected development…and not an unpleasant one. She seemed genuinely curious, and that was admittedly surprising to him. Vahlen had asked him a number of questions about his species, but he’d gotten the impression that she was doing it to learn better ways about how to kill, experiment and exploit them. Zhang and the Commander had pressed him on the operations of the Zararch for the same reason. No one had expressed an interest out of pure curiosity.

Well, it wasn’t as though he was pressed for time. “I’m flattered,” he said, sounding happy even to himself. “Go ahead.”

“I guess some basics,” she said, biting her lip. “I assume you normally don’t look that way?”

He chuckled. “No, I’ve been heavily modified to pass for human. My species is the Vitakara, if you didn’t know. Within the species itself are six races, all drastically different from each other.”

“How different?” She asked.

“Before we became all interconnected, the majority of Vitakara stayed in one place and adapted to that environment,” Nartha explained. “The Borelians settled in the arctic lands, you’ve likely seen the corpses of a couple that the Sectoids were experimenting on.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s hard to believe that you and that are related.”

“We’re highly adaptable,” Nartha shrugged. “That’s what makes us so valuable to the Ethereals. We can be genetically modified to be whatever they want. Versatility is literally in out DNA, even beyond your own species.”

“So what are the others?” She said, indicating for him to continue.

“I suppose the Dath’Haram are next,” Nartha continued, figuring out in what order he was going to explain this. “Jungle dwellers, primarily. Shades of green skin, extremely flexible with prehensile hands and feet. There aren’t numerous and are among the more reclusive of the races, but they’re experts at engineering, biotech and camouflage. The Zararch, the Vitakara intelligence equivalent, usually uses them as assassins or spies.”

“Hmm,” Shun scratched her chin. “Are any being used on Earth?”

“Certainly,” Nartha said. “I don’t know for sure, but I believe that the majority of Vitakara that you’ve designated as “Gen-1 Thin men” are actually from this race. The abilities displayed match up with their innate skills. You’ve seen some of them jump extraordinary heights, yes? Snap broken limbs back together? Dodge lasers and bullets with unnatural ease? Then that was likely a modified Dath’Haram. It would also explain why they were so disproportionate. Dath’Haram are naturally thin, and have reptilian eyes and normally asymmetrical faces. Not ideal for spies, but the Ethereals and Shapers wanted to experiment, I suppose.”

Shun frowned. “Shapers? That sounds ominous.”

“An archaic term, but a fitting one,” Nartha explained. “Masters of genetic modification. They work outside the Vitakaran government directly for the Ethereals. That particular group consists of both Vitakara and Sectoid members, all under one Ethereal, I presume. There may be more, but every genetic modification is first developed or approved by them.”

“Huh,” she mused. “Interesting. Please continue.”

“Then there are the Cobrarian,” Nartha said slowly, wondering how she’d take this. “They are…well, snakes with arms. The resemblance is oddly uncanny in some ways. Imagine a snake with arms and you’ll have a good idea of what a Cobrarian looks like.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “You’re kidding, right?”

He smiled. “Not even a little. Desert dwellers, as you can imagine. One of the more controversial races too, which has often put them at odds with the Vitakaran government at large.”

She crossed her arms. “How so?”

“They…are a very internally controlled society,” Nartha said, knowing he had to clarify something first. “I suppose I should explain briefly how the government operates. We are all technically under one species-wide government, but in practice the races themselves have autonomy over their territory to a degree. For the most part, all the races and their respective ‘local’ governments follow the laws themselves, as they are enforced by the Zararch.”

He took a breath. “The differences and difficulties often come from cultural norms each race has. Some are _technically_ illegal according to Vitakara law, but are so ingrained in the culture that it’s often not worth it for military or Zararch intervention.”

“So you basically have a United Nations?” Shun asked, frowning.

“…To an extent,” Nartha scowled, trying to explain it. “But not an entirely accurate comparison. The overarching Vitakara government _does_ ultimately have complete authority, but each of the races has a smaller local government overseeing their territory. They also have a limited military for protection, as well as their own structure and customs. To keep some check on them, the peacekeeping forces are run only by the government as well as the greater Vitakaran military. The Zararch also keeps an eye on all the races, and regularly enforce laws. They are essentially the police and intelligence branch combined.”

“I think I understand,” Shun said slowly. “But why not standardize things? It just seems unnecessarily difficult.”

“Because for the most part, they don’t need to be,” Nartha explained. “We’re not a violent species by nature, and usually work together well. Much of the differences are superficial, but there are admittedly exceptions. But not enough to warrant a standardization.”

“I see politics is a cross-species phenomenon,” Shun noted wryly.

“It always will be,” Nartha agreed. “But as I was saying, the reason the Cobrarian are controversial is due to…well, how they treat the respective genders.”

Shun furrowed her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize that was a thing. We still deal with it here, to an extent, but I’d think that a species as advanced as yours would have moved past that.”

“That is true, for the most part,” Nartha admitted. “But it’s more complicated. Nine out of ten Cobrarian born are female, which as you can imagine, leads to the majority of the species being one gender. As a result the Cobrarian local government is run exclusively by a female hierarchy.”

“Hmm,” Shun mused. “If males are that rare, I’d almost think they’d have at least some kind of influence.”

“Oh, they do,” Nartha stated, somewhat amused. “Which is why they don’t have any official power. The hierarchy meant well, thinking that they shouldn’t have influence over legislation because they might ultimately assume control because of how essential they are to breeding. But it’s led to the males of the species ultimately feeling marginalized and glorified breeding machines.”

Shun frowned. “Couldn’t they just leave? They are allowed to do that, right?”

“They are, and that is becoming a problem,” he explained. “In the past they couldn’t, but since the races have united, it has essentially given them an out and quite a few have been taking it. The problem arises because if there aren’t enough males left, there becomes a breeding crisis which last I heard, is becoming more and more of a concern to Cobrarian Hierarchy.”

“Hmm,” Shun said. “Well, I don’t think they can really do anything about that.”

“The Cobrarian Hierarchy is going to change,” Nartha shrugged. “It has to. The males want a place in the government, and until that happens, more of them are going to leave until it becomes a necessity. The Hierarchy will likely try to petition the Vitakaran government to put some kind of stop to it, but I doubt that will happen. But it was a rather heated issue when I was last on Vitakar.”

Shun snorted. “Perhaps I’ll ask more about that later, but keep going with the races. This is fascinating.”

“The Oyariah are another more reclusive race,” Nartha continued. “They live in extensive underground cities, many of which run directly under the continents. They have stone-like skin, are incredibly strong and can see perfectly in the dark. A downside is that they are blinded by any sort of direct light, which means their cities are pitch dark, and very few actually migrate beyond that.”

“How could they integrate anywhere else then?” Shun asked. “That seems like a big liability.”

“Genetic modification,” Nartha explained simply. “Quite a few Oyariah get it applied at birth these days, especially with their influence on the surface beginning to grow. They are also slightly a problem.”

“How?”

“They are fanatically loyal to the Ethereals,” Nartha sighed. “Vitakara are not normally religious, but the Oyariah are an exception. They don’t view the Ethereals as _gods_ per-se, but definitely beings of a higher power. As a result the race is forever loyal to them, and I’m certain the Ethereals themselves utilize their political influence. Even though it’s not proven, I know that the Zararch suspect that the Ethereals are funneling them advanced technology to surpass the other races, increasing their economic and social influence to substantial amounts.”

“A problem,” Shun agreed.

“Agreed,” Nartha said. “And one that’ll have to be dealt with. Moving on, the Sar’Manda are perhaps the most numerous and reclusive of the races. They dwell in underwater cities that expand throughout all the oceans. They control an underwater empire as large as what the rest of the races control on land. They’re perhaps as you’d expect, webbed hands and feet, gills, fins, bulbous eyes, all on a vaguely humanoid figure.”

“Are they independent?” Shun asked.

“Technically, no,” Nartha answered, shifting in his seat. “They are part of the Vitakaran government. But they contribute very little politically, not to the extent they could. They are a mystery to many, and very few ever migrate to the surface, since in a similar situation to the Oyariah, they cannot breathe air. This is fixable by genetic modification, of course. But very few Sar’Manda see the need since there is no reason for them to leave their underwater empire.”

“So they’re an apathetic military power,” Shun summed up. “Alright.”

“A military power that isn’t much of one,” Nartha clarified. “Underwater? Yes, it’s unlikely anyone could defeat them. But above? No, their strength is in the water, but they could not challenge anyone on the surface and win.”

“Your world really is fascinating,” Shun murmured. “It sounds similar to Earth in ways.”

“Vitakar is bigger than Earth,” Nartha agreed. “But to me, Earth seems like a less-intense version of Vitakar. Everything is more extreme, more dangerous. What you consider dangerous weather here is at worst a mild storm.”

“I’d like to see it one day,” she said wistfully. “But back to the topic. What’s the last race?”

“The Vitakarian,” Nartha finished. “I suppose you can guess from the name, but they were the ones to really unite the races under one banner, in a sense. They were the first to determine we were all one species, and were more advanced than the others, which led to them establishing the name our species, and since they believed they were at first the only kind, gave themselves the name Vitakarian.”

“Is there are reason they were more advanced?” Shun asked.

“Yes,” Nartha said with a nod. “Unlike the other races, the Vitakarian were nomads. They went where the weather was favorable, and never really settled down, leading to them not developing an affinity to any environment. Since they didn’t have to deal with extreme environments, this allowed them to focus on advancing themselves. We’re also referred to as the ‘template’ race because we’re the most genetically malleable of any of the races.”

Shun raised an eyebrow. “You’re a Vitakarian?”

“I am,” he smiled. “Our form isn’t all that dissimilar to humans. With the exception that our skin has no color initially, and it either lightens or darkens depending on exposure to sunlight. Our eyes are a solid color, which changes depending on the oxygen level and brightness. We also don’t naturally have hair, but many Vitakarian change that with genetic modification.”

“Huh,” she looked at him, almost in a new light. “So this isn’t really that much of a change?”

“The body?” He asked. “No, and because we are already similar to your species in build, the Shapers were able to create a much more realistic human, which is why I can convincingly pass as one.”

“So can the modification be reversed?” Shun asked, appraising him once more. “Or is it permanent?”

“No, it can be reversed,” Nartha assured her. “The Shapers have a process for restoring a modified agent to a ‘default’ state, for lack of a better word. I’ve undergone it several times, and it’s worked every time.”

“I see,” Shun was silent for a few minutes and stood. “Thanks, Soran. This…well, it’s a lot to think about.”

“You might as well call me by my name,” Nartha said, remembering she didn’t know it. “Soran was only a cover.”

She cocked her head. “Well, what is it?”

“Zar’nartha’intha,” he said. “But I’ll accept Nartha.”

“Long and complicated,” she mused. “Well, I might have to ask about that later, provided you’re willing to have a few more questioning sessions?”

Nartha smiled. “Well, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“True,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ll see you later, Nartha.”

“You too,” he said, giving her the Commander’s salute. “Be safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” she assured him. “I don’t want to end up in the med bay again.”

She walked to the door and exited, leaving him alone. But now he did have something to look forward to in the future before his ultimate fate was decided. That had been surprisingly nice, and had reminded him how much he missed his planet and people. It was good to talk about it with someone.

Even if that someone was a human.

***

_The Citadel, Barracks_

Patricia brushed back her hair absentmindedly as she walked into the barracks, noting that it was mostly empty. Not much of a surprise at this time, since most of the soldiers were either training or in the mess hall. A TV was playing the news in the background, which she was glad for since the silence otherwise would have felt odd to her.

There were some of the newer soldiers at various corners, separated from each other, who were either reading or sleeping, but she wasn’t interested in them. There was a very particular person she wanted to see now, and his mind was so familiar to her now that she could nearly always pinpoint exactly where he was.

Creed was sitting on the bed in regular black XCOM fatigues, reading one of his books. He looked up as she approached, emitting a happiness that was reflected in his smile. It was flattering, and as much as she wanted to know what he was thinking exactly, she refrained. Mostly because it was the right thing to do, but also because she didn’t want to find out she was interpreting him wrong. Well, one way or another she’d find out soon.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing up. “Finally done looking over the soldiers?”

“For the moment,” she said, looking up at him. Funny it was times like this when she really saw how much bigger than her he was. It was an intimidating height, but one she’d never personally felt affected by. Gah, a mental tangent she didn’t need now. “As long as the North Koreans don’t say anything _too_ offensive we should be fine.”

“I saw a couple of them training,” Creed nodded. “I was impressed to say the least. They might even be as good as me.”

She chuckled at that and leaned back against one of the bunks. “That’s really high praise, coming from you. You who are so much more skilled than everyone else.”

“Which _is_ true for the most part,” Creed pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t accept when someone is just as good.”

“I really want to see one of them spar with you,” Patricia said with a smile. “That’s be a good test.”

Creed snorted. “I…don’t think so. Not to disparage the likely skilled Koreans, but if Carmelita couldn’t beat me, I’m not sure they’d have a chance.”

Patricia cocked her head. “Uh-huh, sure. _That’s_ the reason, and not because you’re worried you’d lose.”

Creed groaned. “I do hate how easy you manage to manipulate me.”

“That is your own fault,” she said, crossing her arms, lips twitching in amusement. “You walked right into that.”

“I concede that,” he admitted, raising his hands. “Although I’m somewhat at a disadvantage, since you can read minds after all.”

He clearly meant that to be an amusing jab, and his feeling reflected that, but it made her uncomfortable regardless. Creed may know better, but she did wonder how many _did_ believe that she spent every conversation casually reading the mind of the one she was conversing with. Or worse, controlling them for her own ends.

With the amount of new soldiers here, she knew it was only a matter of time before something was started about her. The secret mastermind manipulating things for her own ends, using her powers to unwittingly turn them into puppets. Hopefully not, but the scary thing was that that invented conspiracy theory was possible. She was the most powerful person here, and that was slightly terrifying.

“Hey, you ok?” She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked into his concerned face. He actually felt _bad_ now, thinking he’d somehow upset her. Well, slightly, but it wasn’t because of him.

“I’m alright,” she sighed. “Just spaced out briefly.” She paused, deciding to just finally get this started. “Are you comfortable around me?”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. He radiated surprise and confusion. “What kind of question is that? Of course I am.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” She pressed, needing to know. “I can _read your mind_. Affect you and you’d never know it. That doesn’t concern you at all?”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” He asked, taking a step toward her. “Maybe if it was someone else, but you? No, I trust you. You’ve actually been in my mind and even then you didn’t intentionally go into it to read my mind, you did it to _save_ me. Anyone with that much restraint is fully trustworthy in my eyes.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” she sighed. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see some things that raised questions.”

 _Now_ he felt slightly concerned. But of course he thought she’d seen something she might disapprove of. “Like what?”

“Nothing bad,” she quickly amended, scowling as she tried to think of the best way to say it. Any other time she’d always been a fan of the straightforward approach, but it was furiously elusive this time. “But…I don’t know, it kind of caught me off guard.”

She definitely had his full, undivided attention, as well as his curiosity. “You’re normally not this evasive.”

“Shut up,” she growled, then sighed. “Right, so when I was in that memory, I talked to you,” she held up a hand to cut off his question. “No, you didn’t know who I was, your mind was still stuck in the memory, in the past. I had to convince you to complete the memory as it was originally, not taking revenge and killing her.”

“As much as I’m glad I’m that reasonable in my dreams, I’m somewhat surprised,” Creed said. “How did you convince me you were…real? I guess.”

She took a second to try to drone out her furiously beating heart. “It wasn’t as hard as you think. You didn’t know my name, but you trusted me implicitly. Couldn’t say why of course, but you _knew_ me somehow. You actually thought I was someone else because of what you felt.”

He smirked. “Who? A psychic little sister I didn’t know about?”

“No,” she stated bluntly. “Your _wife_.”

That shut him up, and his current emotional state was thrown into turmoil, and just from reading his suddenly blank face and slightly reddening skin, she could guess it likely amounted to something like “ _Fuck.”_

It was almost funny.

He coughed. “Uh-“

She held up a hand, cutting him off. Now he felt nervous, _very_ nervous, and clearly afraid he’d crossed some kind of line. “Stop feeling nervous, it just…surprised me, that’s all. I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” she suddenly frowned, and flushed, realizing she might have jumped to conclusions _way_ too fast. “Provided that…. _is_ how you feel.” She finished quickly.

“Ah,” he swallowed, then visibly composed himself. “Yes, yes it is. Though this wasn’t _quite_ how I planned on bringing it up.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “I’m curious now.”

He scowled uncomfortably. “Well, uh, preferably after I got some indication you might feel the same. I didn’t want to make it awkward if I was wrong.”

That was somehow the most predictable thing she could have expected. Yep, he really was a typical man when it came to romance. “You want to know something? I’d actually wondered if you felt that way, but I also didn’t say anything because it could be easily misinterpreted. What exactly would have been a clue, anyway? Me making you breakfast?”

He actually physically _thought_ about that. “Well, I’m not sure, I mean-”

She started laughing, cutting him off. “Stop overthinking this,” she chided. “Both of us are, honestly. I didn’t think it would happen to me, but here we are.”

“Well, uh,” Creed said slowly. “You still haven’t said if you-“

He was cut off as she grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him into the side of the bunk. Before he could say anything she leaned up and kissed him. It was long and lingering, as perfect as she could have possibly wanted. She broke contact and looked up into his stunned face, her body pressed into his.

“That answer your question?” She asked quietly, smiling at him.

“Clearly,” he answered happily, quickly getting over his surprise. “I wish I’d done it earlier now.”

“You have restraint and respect,” Patricia said, placing a hand on his chest. “I admire that, really. More than you know. But no need to hide now.” She leaned up for another kiss and felt alarm run through him mixed with desire.

“Patricia…” he breathed as she reached to take off his shirt. “We’re not exactly alone…”

“Don’t worry,” she told him as she maneuvered him onto the bed with ease, resting on top of him as she quickly located all the minds around the immediate vicinity and sent a simple command: _Sleep_.

She looked around to be sure and noted happily that the few people here were slumped over in a deep sleep. That problem taken care of, she returned her attention to the one man who warranted it. Without wasting any more time, she leaned down to kiss him once more, intending to make this last as long as possible.

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

He was going to tell her.

No matter what happened, she deserved to know. He wouldn’t take this further unless she knew everything.

The Commander looked at the ground, his arms resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. He wondered if she’d figured it out on her own, or at least theorized who he was. Or maybe she didn’t care. She might not even care about who he really was, but she needed to know, regardless.

Not just her. The time for secrecy was over. The Internal Council also needed to know. They’d known him long enough, worked with him to where they could reach their own conclusions free of the propaganda that surrounded him. While he didn’t think that Vahlen would be particularly bothered…he didn’t know about the rest. Shen and Van Doorn…he didn’t know how they would react.

He shook his head. But regardless of how that went, Vahlen would know first. As well as what he’d done, Farida in particular. That, he wasn’t sure how she would handle. Vahlen wasn’t the type to get simply infatuated. She was most likely smarter than him, and knew just from XCOM what he was capable of. He hadn’t hid who he was, which was a ruthless, pragmatic man who did whatever it took to achieve victory.

And yet she didn’t seem deterred.

Perhaps it was because he understood her possibly better than anyone before. Her drive for a better world, doing whatever it took. Words that were easy to say, but could only be pushed so far before people backed off, and she’d dealt with that all her life from people who didn’t realize there wasn’t a painless path to progress. But he did, and in return he’d given her a freedom she’d not thought possible.

He supposed when put like that, it would be enough to get her attention. Completely accidental too. At least in the beginning she’d struck him as the type who wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationships, and to be honest, he hadn’t expected to develop feelings for another woman after Farida either for a variety of reasons, but one of the largest being that the number of women who would even entertain that notion knowing who he was was almost non-existent.

Well, that was still to be determined.

But he’d eventually realized that he’d read Vahlen wrong. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, she just hadn’t found anyone who was compatible with her. He snorted. _Compatible_. A cold mechanical word, and yet that was probably exactly how Vahlen thought. It was just how she was, thinking in analytical and technical terms. It was of the traits he liked about her.

The door to his office hissed open and Vahlen walked through, still dressed in her typical scientist attire and lab coat which indicated to him that she’d likely just come from the lab. She felt calm, controlled, and he wondered how he felt to her in comparison. He stood as the door closed behind her. “Vahlen, glad you came.”

She was clearly amused at that. “Did you really expect otherwise?” She asked, walking over to him and stopping at a much closer proximity than was normal.

Still, he smiled. “Not really,” he motioned to the nearby couch he’d been sitting on. “Want to sit?”

She brushed her hair back and returned the smile. “If you insist,”

Both of them sat down, angled towards each other. Vahlen didn’t waste any time making her opinion clear. “Commander, under other circumstances I might find observing how much you’re delaying this interesting,” she reached over and rested one of her hands on his own. “But I know why we’re both here, and I’m not sure what you’re waiting for.”

Well, she had a point. No point dragging this out any more than was warranted. “Right. We both like each other, I think can agree on that.”

She was definitely satisfied at that, but only raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised it took you that long to figure it out.”

The Commander cocked his head at her. “I’m not _that_ dense. I’d determined as much a while ago, but deliberately held back for…well, several reasons.”

She nodded. “I figured as much. At first I wondered if you weren’t interested, but then determined that you _were_ , at least on some level, but not going forward for some reason.”

“Right,” he let out a sigh. “So, first things first. If… _this_ is ever going to go anywhere, you need to know some things about me.” At her encouraging nod, he continued. “I told you that I was part of the Commander’s team, a high-ranking one who defected. That’s a lie.” He paused, and looked directly at her as he revealed the truth. “I am the Commander. The UN faked my death, presumably so they could use me again one day. For XCOM, it turns out.”

She blinked, realization emanating from her, some faint surprise, but not nearly as much as he had expected. She was silent for a few moments, looking blankly off to the side before speaking. “I’d wondered if that was the case. Even at the beginning, something never really added up. You knew so much about what had happened, details that even his- _your_ advisors shouldn’t have. Your contingencies, tactics…I’d thought you’d just taken inspiration, perhaps had some epiphany about how the Commander was right…” she trailed off, looking back at him, her eyes piercing his. “But the actual explanation is much simpler, apparently. You were so similar to the Commander because you _are_ him.”

He nodded. “I would have preferred not to lie, but it was necessary, at least in the beginning.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Vahlen muttered quietly, looking down. “It would have been difficult to rally XCOM behind you, knowing who you were.”

“It would have been impossible,” the Commander amended. “Valid or not, there was too much sentiment against me for there to be any sort of unity. People will shut out someone like me, regardless of what I have to say.”

“A good plan,” Vahlen admitted. “Create an alter-ego, one who could get away with using unheard of tactics with no one the wiser. Although now that I’m thinking about it…you never really hid who you were. Not really. Your past you lied about, but the personality of the Commander was never something you bothered to change.”

“Which was that?” He asked.

“A pragmatic, ruthless and determined man,” she said, looking back up at him. “But also an intelligent, rational and considerate one.”

He hesitated for a moment. “That doesn’t bother you?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “Does this change anything about the man I’ve known the past year? Are you suddenly different now?”

He shook his head. Vahlen was right. He had never really moderated his true opinions towards how he handled XCOM or the aliens. Maybe a bit at the beginning…but never completely, and definitely not now. “I don’t think you’re someone who is a monster or deserves to be hated,” Vahlen continued quietly. “You think like me, you’re really the only one who’s ever understood what I’ve tried to do my entire life which is to help. I see a problem and a feel obligated to do whatever I can to solve it, to fix it. I’ve done dozens of horrible things in my life, I’m not blind to that, but I could always rationalize it; justify it in ways that let me sleep at night.”

She looked down. “When I was younger I wondered if something was wrong with me. People didn’t understand me, didn’t think like me. For a while I wondered if I was wrong, if what I wanted to work towards was going too far. But I eventually accepted that I wasn’t like normal people and that it wasn’t a bad thing. It’s gotten me here today, and the same could be said for you.”

He nodded. “That it did. I never expect to be forgiven for my crimes, but I do not regret them and I’d do it again if given the choice.”

“And I’d support you,” Vahlen nodded. “Regardless of what people say, you did make the world a safer place, and now you’re to save it.”

“Well,” he gave her another smile. “Not alone.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “Not alone,” she repeated, then both of them lapsed into silence for a few moments. “Are you going to tell the rest?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “They need to know now, especially with the Demeter Contingency being activated. My identity is the one threat the Council has been hanging over my head and I want to remove it for good.”

“Then I assume you know some of them won’t be as understanding as I?” Vahlen said carefully.

“I know,” the Commander said. “And I’m expecting it to a degree. If they want to leave, then I’ll accept it, but all of them are rational, intelligent people. They know enough to make their own conclusions without their perception being tainted by lies or propaganda.”

“Hopefully,” Vahlen murmured. “But I hope they don’t do anything rash.”

He shrugged. “I suppose we’ll see.”

Vahlen shifted on the couch. “Is that what you wanted to say? Nothing has changed about how I feel about you if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Half,” he sighed. “You know I was married, yes?”

“And that she died,” Vahlen recalled. “That doesn’t bother me if you’re concerned about that.”

“No, not that,” he sighed, standing up. “Do you want the long or short version?”

“Long,” she said without hesitation. “Go on.”

Right. This particular sequence of memories he’d never wanted to think about again, but she deserved to know. “I met Farida quite a bit before the War on Terror. It was back when I was with the CIA, on operations. One such operation took me to Iran, to investigate their progress on acquiring nuclear weapons and sabotage them if possible. Essentially I made a mistake and trapped myself in the nuclear facility.”

“You met her there?” Vahlen guessed.

“Yes, and she helped me get out before the Iranians found me,” he confirmed, remembering the event. “But that unfortunately made her a liability, at least at first. We parted ways and I was debating how best to deal with her since she knew I was an American agent when she somehow found me when wandering through Tehran.”

Vahlen raised an eyebrow. “She found _you_?”

“I suspect she followed me,” the Commander explained. “Or knew I’d be on the streets. Whatever the case, she asked me what I was doing and then asked to help.”

Vahlen frowned. “I’m glad she did, but why?”

“She was one of the nuclear scientists,” he continued. “She was terrified Iran was going to use them on their enemies, Israel and America to be specific. So I tentatively agreed and over the next few months we sabotaged their nuclear program beyond repair.”

“I assume you grew close during that time,” Vahlen commented.

He chuckled some. “Yes. Very. Not what I was expecting but it…well, it happened quickly, but it didn’t feel rushed or wrong. She was intelligent, rational and funny.”

“Funny?” Vahlen noted.

He raised an eyebrow. “My sarcasm would not be what it is without her. Moving on, I ensured she had asylum in America after the mission was over, and we…stayed together after that. I convinced my CIA handler to let me train her as an agent, and after that was done, we began our operations across the world. We married about a year after we began working operations, when both of us were sure this was what we wanted.”

“The War on Terror happened then,” Vahlen guessed.

“It started and I was given my orders,” the Commander nodded. “I then built my team, Farida among them. She was fully on board at first, willing to strike back against the terrorists.”

“But didn’t stay that way for long,” Vahlen finished, seeing where this was going.

“She began to express doubts when I ordered the first crucifixions,” the Commander confirmed. “It didn’t get much better from there. When we carried out the Caliphate Massacre, began executing hostages instead of rescuing them and hitting civilian areas where terrorists were hiding, she became more and more outspoken.”

“Didn’t she know you’d do that?” Vahlen asked slowly. “Or did you just…start it during the War on Terror?”

“She knew what my plans were,” the Commander said quietly. “I never lied. But on the operations we were on before…the scale wasn’t as large. The problems easier. The people not so innocent. She _knew_ intrinsically what I was capable of…but now I don’t think she believe I would go through with it. But when I did, well it changed her.”

He sighed. “I tried to get through to her, make her understand why I was doing it. For a while I thought I was working, even if she was becoming more reclusive; closed off even to me.”

Vahlen was silent for a moment. “Was she a Muslim?”

“When I met her, yes,” the Commander said. “But not a devout one, since she renounced her faith when she came to America. But on some level I think she never forgot. The Caliphate’s teachings did call to her in some way, which she admitted multiple times.”

“Did something happen?” Vahlen asked, clearly thinking ahead. “She died in an attack?”

He gave her a sad smile. “I almost wish that had happened. An attack happened, yes, but it was I that almost died. It was an ambush, one that was so coordinated that they had to have known everything about it. I barely had my team make it out alive, and at first shrugged it off as a botched attack.”

Vahlen’s face fell as the implication hit her. “Oh.”

“I didn’t ignore it, of course,” he corrected. “But it didn’t occur to me at first there was a traitor. Not until it happened to another team and they didn’t survive. By then I knew something was wrong, and only a few people knew the details, Farida among them. I didn’t want to believe it, of course. But I couldn’t deny the possibility.”

He sighed. “So I told her, privately, of another operation that was going to be launched. But this time we’d set the ambush. The Caliphate soldiers showed up in the location I had leaked and we wiped them out. It was all the proof I needed.”

“What did you do?” Vahlen asked quietly.

“I treated her the same as an enemy asset,” he answered quietly. “I interrogated, tortured and extracted everything she knew about her contacts and what she’d revealed to them. Once that was done I executed her and left the body in the desert.”

The mix of emotions coming from Vahlen were about what he expected. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Did you ask her why she did it?” She finally asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “I didn’t. It didn’t matter, not anymore, and there was no excuse that could justify it. Perhaps it was a penance for her, perhaps she thought I went too far and wanted to stop me, perhaps she wanted to scare me into calling off the op so I wouldn’t get killed. I’ll never know, and neither do I want to. But I remember her now as another victim of the War on Terror. One I wasn’t able to save.”

“I’m so sorry,” Vahlen said, standing up to face him. “I…had no idea. Not about that.”

“It’s not something I tell,” he shrugged. “I never expected to tell it to someone. No reason to. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone like that again, and I really wasn’t sure I wanted to.”

Vahlen took his hands in her own. “And I managed to change your mind?”

“You’re under no illusions about who I am,” the Commander said gently. “The good and bad. When you kept persisting, even after what I’ve ordered, that did make me wonder. And the more I thought about it…well, here we are. But I don’t want secrets, not anymore. If we’re going to do this, you had to know everything about me. Especially the things I’d prefer to forget.”

“Thank you,” Vahlen told him, sincerity emanating out of her. “For trusting me enough to share this. I know it’s not easy for you. But you did and that only reaffirms what I already know. You’re someone who cares, about XCOM, humanity, me. You’re more concerned about what would make me comfortable than what you’d want. You didn’t have to tell me this, but you did so I’d know, and I don’t think you can be nobler than that when it comes to this.”

His heart was definitely beating much faster now. There would be no better time. Both of them wanted this, and if what he’d said hadn’t deterred her, than there was no reason to hold back anymore. He gently took her chin with his right hand, leaned down and kissed her waiting lips.

It was a sensation he wished could last forever, but time sadly didn’t stop and the kiss ended too quickly. Though he didn’t delay long in giving her another one while sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to his room.

Fortunately, he knew where to go from here.


	40. Agent Recall: Ruth Shira

 

_The Citadel, Commander’s Bedroom_

The Commander opened his eyes wearily, greeted by the sight of Vahlen’s brown hair. She was breathing lightly, a content smile on her face while she slept. He smiled as well, lightly stroking her hair as he snuggled back down behind her, wrapping his free arm around her. He’d forgotten how nice it was to wake up with someone beside him instead of alone.

Although by doing that, he might have accidentally woken her up as she shifted under the sheets and eventually rolled over to face him. Giving a long yawn, she opened her own eyes, happiness emanating from her as she saw him. “Guten morgen,” she said, her mind apparently not awake enough to speak English. Or maybe she just felt more comfortable speaking it now, since he could figure out parts from context. She’d actually reverted to German quite a bit last night, which he found very funny.

“Morning, Moira,” he replied contentedly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The small smile didn’t dissipate as she instead snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder with his arm draped around her holding her close. “Nein,” she said. “I know you didn’t. I likely would have woken soon anyway.”

“Oh, really?” He asked, resting his hand over the one she had laid relaxed on the bed, slipping his fingers between hers. “How long _do_ you normally sleep?”

“Six hours, give or take,” she answered absentmindedly. “Never really on anything comfortable either. An actual bed is much nicer for…” she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “… _multiple_ reasons.”

“I won’t argue that it’s much better than before,” he chuckled, and both of them laid there for a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. But unfortunately they couldn’t stay that way forever. “There’s a lot to do.”

She sighed into his chest. “Agreed. I’ve got quite a few tests to run. I have some new genetic modification ideas to begin work on, as well as continue refining the Manchurian Project.”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, looking up at the blank ceiling.

“I’m currently considering trying to create less…extreme modifications,” Vahlen explained. “Mods that give an increase to speed and strength without much risk, and allow for further modification in the future. It would give our entire reserves a boost to their effectiveness. The mutons might provide some insight into how that could be accomplished.”

He mentally nodded at that, not wanting to bump her head. “That sounds promising. I’d also expect Shen to come to you later, he’ll likely need some of your scientists for his Firestorm project.”

“Mhmm, yes, he’s told me about that,” Vahlen said. “I’ll be sure to help him as much as possible. What are you planning for this fine day?”

The Commander hesitated before answering. “I’m going to call a meeting. Tell the rest who I am.”

Vahlen lifted herself off his shoulder and moved around until she was somewhat propped up with her arm, looking at him. “So soon? I thought you’d…well, allow some more time. I didn’t realize you wanted it done this fast.”

He also straightened up, resting his back on the wall and mass of pillows. “There’s no point delaying. The longer it goes on, the worse the fallout will be. Especially if they learn you knew well before.”

She pursed her lips at that, glancing down at the sheets. “Ah. True, I hadn’t considered that,” her gaze returned to his. “Do you think they know?”

“About us?” He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it will take them long to figure it out. Bradford and Van Doorn especially. I don’t plan on advertising that much, in case you were wondering.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Vahlen agreed. “I’d prefer not to have rumors flying around.”

The Commander chuckled. “That ship sailed long ago. I’m certain the soldiers suspect, especially if _Bradford_ was able to figure it out.”

Vahlen frowned. “I was really that unsubtle, wasn’t I?”

“Very,” the Commander confirmed. “But I appreciated it. Most women have an annoying tendency to be… _vague_ about their interest or lack thereof.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I find that very counterproductive. Why be so coy about it?”

“A question that has been asked for decades,” the Commander said, his lips curling up. “And I still don’t know the answer.”

“One concern neither of us have to worry about,” Vahlen finished in satisfaction. “Although I do wonder if any of them will have a problem with this. Relationships like this are usually frowned upon in the military.”

“I highly doubt it,” the Commander dismissed easily. “One, this isn’t a traditional military, and two, I really don’t care if they approve or not. If they have some well-reasoned argument against it, I’ll listen, but I doubt that they can form a cohesive argument against us other than ‘chain of command abuse.’”

Vahlen snorted at that. “Trust me, if I’d not been interested, you would know it.”

“Not to mention you’re a telepathic psion,” the Commander pointed out wryly. “If anything, I’m more at risk of improper abuse than you are.”

“I think we’re even,” Vahlen chuckled. “Telekinetic tactical mastermind versus telepathic military geneticist. Could go either way.”

“That it could,” he said, then swung his legs over the side, resting his feet on the ground. “Well, I think we’ve spent enough time here. We do have a world to protect, after all.”

“That we do,” Vahlen agreed, with some resignation as she pushed herself off the bed to stand by him. Without any prompting she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

***

The base she was in was deserted.

Patricia blinked wearily as she glanced around the perfectly circular room which seemed to have been constructed entirely out of steel. She stood in the center, four paths to potentially take. One in front, one behind, two to her sides. All seemingly endless corridors, the gray steel illuminated from a source she couldn’t determine.

Something seemed off about all of this. Which way _was_ she supposed to go? It should have disturbed her that she couldn’t sense anyone, but she felt strangely…calm. She wasn’t in danger, but she did have somewhere to be. Someone to meet.

After a few minutes considering, she ultimately decided on taking the path in front of her. It wasn’t as though there was another clear choice. Her boots clacked on the steel floor as she walked forward which was then when she realized she was wearing her armor. She blinked and looked down at the scarred red plates, a scratched XCOM insignia still emblazoned on the center chest.

She couldn’t have forgotten about that, right?

She glanced down at the helmet she hadn’t realized she was holding and cautiously put it on, it hissing and clicking into place as it sealed itself to the armor. She reached back and wasn’t surprised to find her Autorifle attached to the back of her armor.

 _Now_ she was becoming concerned. Something was wrong, she _knew_ she hadn’t been armored a few minutes ago.

Right?

She scowled, raising her weapon and walking into the foreboding corridor.

The silence was louder than should be possible. There was nothing here. No sound. No life. Nothing. Just endless corridors and steel walls. She was missing something, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was. The corridor kept twisting and turning at sharp angles, making impossible paths that somehow didn’t collide with each other.

But something soon changed. There was light at the end. Clarity. Something that had answers.

As she kept walking she couldn’t help but notice that the steel walls were fading into glass, revealing the black expanse of space. Utter blackness with sprinkled with the faint twinkling of stars. At the end was a glass box, a room facing the one patch of color in the void.

Earth.

The room wasn’t empty either. A figure stood observing the blue and green planet. A man standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. Patricia slowed to a stop as she saw that. He looked familiar, yet there was only one person who came to mind.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way he could be here…or her too, for that matter. She scowled as she stepped forward cautiously, trying to think of her last memories before arriving here…wherever _here_ was. In space? Impossible. XCOM didn’t have access to interstellar flight, or any means of leaving the atmosphere. Not to mention she’d had _some_ memory of arriving.

She sucked in her breath as everything clicked into place. She was stuck in her consciousness.

“Are you really going to shoot me?” The man asked, mimicking his voice perfectly. Exactly as she remembered, with buzzed graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. His crystalline eyes commanded the same respect and attention they had when she’d been a little girl, even as she’d learned not to be intimidate by them so much as she’d gotten older.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Patricia asked, aiming her weapon at his impassive face. “You’re not my father.”

He gave a smile. “You adapt quickly, psion. I thought you’d prefer this conversation be with a friendly face.”

She attempted to focus on the being impersonating her father, but it was…oddly silent. She couldn’t sense a place to strike. “I don’t like imposters. If you _really_ wanted that, you shouldn’t have decided to have this conversation in the middle of _space_.”

She let a burst of gauss fire loose from her autorifle which sped toward the body and impacted with dull thuds and tears. The doppelganger didn’t react at all to the bullets striking his body, his expression unchanging as blood started leaking down his shirt, staining it red.

She paused after seeing it have no effect and he smiled, while shaking his head. “Come now, psion. You knew that wouldn’t work.” The rifle flew from her hands and came to rest above a bloodstained palm, hovering as it began to be telekinetically disassembled. “You know as well as I that physical weapons have little power. Not to being like us. We are beyond these toys, pieces of machinery that have purpose other than to destroy.”

The doppelganger released his telekinetic hold on the pieces of metal and machinery that had been her weapon and they fell to the ground, scattering across the glass floor. Patricia felt herself suddenly lifted up and drawn towards the being, only stopping a half-meter or so away, hovering a few inches above the ground, unable to move anything.

The being cocked his head at her. “You are powerful, psion. Very much so, yet you are still untrained. Still a novice at best. But you have talent, skill and ambition. A useful combination, and combined with your intelligence, that has warranted my interest.”

He turned around and released his hold on her. She landed upright, taking a second to right herself as she eyed the imposter warily. “What are you? A Hive Commander? An Ethereal? Something else?”

“Who do you think?” He asked, without looking behind him.

She thought furiously. To the best of her knowledge, she suspected that a Hive Commander wasn’t powerful enough to initiate this kind of telepathic contact. She’d seen a lot in its mind, as well as its limits and sincerely doubted that it would even have an interest in such a talk. And as there were no other psionic aliens she knew of, that only left the option of the Ethereals.

So an Ethereal for sure. But could this be one they knew? That she knew? Was this the one from New York? The one the Commander called Aegis? She honestly didn’t know what would warrant one of the Ethereals to go out of their way to talk to her. The Commander made sense, but her? True, she was psionic, but could it really be as simple as that?

“An Ethereal,” she answered slowly. “Aegis?”

He turned around, a smile on his face. A sinister one, the smile of a being that was fully in control and knew it. The smile that looked terrifying on her father, _alien_. His irises were also changed, no longer the crystalline blue, but a stark purple. “No,” his voice rumbled, no longer the aged voice of her father, but far deeper. More commanding, layered and echoing. Each syllable reverberated in the air and echoed in her mind. It was the voice of a being of power. “I am not Aegis, though I can understand how you have come to that conclusion.”

She began circling him, her eyes never leaving him. “Then who are you?”

“The one who you have been waging a war against since the beginning,” he answered, his voice boring its way into her mind, forcing every word deep into her mind. “Similar to your Commander, I have no name that would matter. The words describing me you would not understand, but know that I am the Imperator, Commander of my Ethereal Collective.”

Patricia went cold as she heard that. They’d speculated on who the ultimate leader of the Ethereals was, but that was essentially an impossible task since they knew so little about them to begin with. But if he was telling the truth. Fuck. She was screwed. No way around it. Apparently resisting the Ethereal in New York had warranted their Commander dealing with her.

“Silence those thoughts,” the Imperator warned, raising a hand. Almost instinctively, she immediately complied. Simply hearing the command _made_ her feel compelled to follow. And if it was like this _here_ , in a dream, she imagined the effect was almost overwhelming in person. “I have no desire to hurt you.”

“Maybe you should tell that to your friend,” she shot back. “He didn’t exactly seem to care.”

“The Ravaged One had no reason to allow you to live,” the Imperator stated flatly. “He had no directive or orders to deal with you. Yet you survived. You did not triumph, but you resisted. You _survived_ and that has earned my attention.”

The Ravaged One. The Ethereals sure seemed to like overly symbolic words or phrases to call themselves. “Or maybe you’re not as strong as you think you are.”

“I had considered that at first,” the Imperator mused, beginning to pace to his right, his purple irises boring into hers. “But I do not believe so. You are no accident, Patricia Trask, no fluke. You have the Gift within you and it is _strong_.”

“I do my best,” she said, eyeing the alien cautiously, unsure what he would do. She had the feeling that if he wanted it, he could kill her or drive her insane. “Is it really that uncommon? Surely you’ve seen other species wield the same powers I do.”

“Incorrect,” he disputed flatly. “Few species can wield the Gift, not pure as you or I do. We have seen species advance, and in doing so, corrupt themselves, turning their powers into a shadow of what they could be. For humanity to not only be able to wield the Gift, but remain pure in doing so? That is _rare._ ”

“I assume the Sectoids fall into this category?” Patricia asked.

“They can wield the Gift in its purest form, yes,” the Imperator confirmed, turning to look out at Earth. “But they are a small-minded species. Incapable of using it with any form of creativity. To them it is a convenient tool, not a power with limitless possibilities.” He shook his head. “But I am getting ahead of myself.”

Patricia walked slowly up beside him, and they looked out over Earth together. “Your world is pleasant,” the Imperator said. “I was not surprised to find life here. Lush worlds like this are fewer than you might think, though sentient life like humanity is few and far between.”

“So can I ask something?” Patricia said, glancing over at him.

“I did want to talk,” he nodded. “I know what you want, but go ahead.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, motioning towards Earth. “You invade our planet, but don’t send enough to win? You’re far more advanced than us, yet you still hold back? Why do you need to fight us?”

“We are not at war,” the Imperator stated, each word containing the gravity of hammer blows. “Were we at _war_ your world would be turned to cinders. Your people would be thralls to be used or executed. You do not pose enough of a threat for us to go to _war_ , psion. But you are asking the right questions.”

He turned fully towards her. “You wonder why I hold my armies back. Why I fight at all in the first place. The answer is simple. Your species has potential, and I want to know how much. So I push, test the limits of what you are _capable_ of. Where you _deserve_ to be under us.”

“So this is an experiment,” Patricia said slowly. “Nothing more than tests?”

“In a sense,” he confirmed. “And your species has done better than I anticipated. You are proof of that. There is only one more test to pass and then it will be over.”

“And what test is that?” She asked, not expecting an answer.

“You will know when it happens,” he said, unfortunately confirming her guess.

“So why tell me any of this at all?” She asked. It was one of the most puzzling things about the whole scenario. “Why not talk to the Commander? He might actually be a more useful person to talk to.”

“I have studied the Commander,” the Imperator said wistfully. “An intriguing and intelligent character for such a young species. But the difference between the two of you is that he is a constant, a force that will never change. You, on the other hand, are a variable. A woman who can be reasoned with, someone who won’t be used or follow blindly.”

Patricia snorted. “If you’re trying to insinuate that I’ll be helping you, I can give you an answer now.”

“I know what your answer is now,” he said, the corners of his lips extending into an unnatural, knowing smile. “But I shall see in the coming months. Because I know what you want, and that is _answers_. It will be interesting to see what you do if those answers aren’t what you expect.”

Patricia fixed him with a cold stare. “Get out of my head.”

He inclined his head. “As you wish, psion. I believe we will meet again.”

Everything went black and then she woke up.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

Moment of truth.

Well, there was never going to be a good time to get this over with, but he still felt apprehensive about the entire ordeal. It was necessary, but it wasn’t something he was currently enjoying. Not that he really should. The interesting him for him personally was that he couldn’t really predict the fallout with any certainty.

He doubted Zhang would care much, as they had similar thought patterns and ideologies on certain things. Patricia either, since she’d begun developing a more pragmatic mindset. Bradford and Jackson he couldn’t predict, either they’d accept it, or…not. And the _not_ was the question, because in all honesty, what could they do? Threaten him? Yell? Leave? Possible, which was why he was anticipating worst-case scenarios.

Van Doorn and Shen would probably have problems with the revelation, although again he didn’t know to what extent they’d express their feelings. They weren’t unreasonable people, but then again, emotion tended to cloud judgement.

All of them now stood around the holotable. Vahlen and Bradford at his sides, Van Doorn and Patricia at the left and right sides, respectively, and Jackson, Shen, Zhang and Patricia on the other side. They might need to get a larger holotable since it was getting a bit crowded.

He swept his gaze around the table, friends and colleagues he easily trusted with his life, as they likely had with theirs. No more delaying, time to do this. “Thank you for coming on short notice,” he began. “I don’t want to take up too much time, so I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “This sounds oddly serious, even for you.”

“Because it is,” he stated flatly, feeling all of them focus on him a little more, as well as their curiosity growing stronger.

“Commander?”

He glanced over at Patricia, trying to limit the irritation in his voice. “Is it important, Patricia?”

“I won’t take long either,” she promised, straightening up. “I was contacted by an Ethereal last night.”

Every head in the room swung to her. His irritation vanished as she dropped that bombshell. That was a development he hadn’t expected, and certainly not now. “What happened?” He demanded.

“I don’t know what he looks like,” she began, pursing her lips. “He took the form of my father. But he wanted to talk, so he says.”

“Did he say his name?” The Commander asked, wondering if it was the same one.

“It wasn’t Aegis,” Patricia clarified. “He called himself the Imperator, Commander of the Ethereal forces.”

There were a lot of intakes of breath and he and Van Doorn exchanged a look. If the Ethereal was telling the truth, then Patricia might have had contact with the one overseeing this entire invasion. “When you say _commander…”_

“I mean he was the one commanding everything,” Patricia stated with no doubt. “He’s the one behind it, I’m sure of it. Even in the dream…” she trailed off. “He _was_ powerful. Even more than the other one.”

A cheery thought. “Why you?” Zhang questioned, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Because I am a _variable_ ,” Patricia said, clearly unsure how to feel about that. “So he says. Perhaps he thinks I can be persuaded easier, or it’s because I’m a powerful psion. He didn’t give a clear answer as to me specifically.”

“So what did he tell you?” Vahlen asked, her tablet at the ready to record whatever was said.

“He confirmed that this invasion is nothing but a test,” Patricia said grimly. “The ultimate purpose of which I’m not sure, but that puts to rest why the Ethereals haven’t conquered us completely.”

“Unfortunately as we suspected,” the Commander nodded. “There really wasn’t another good explanation. Although that means that we’ve likely not even gotten a full glimpse of what the Ethereals are capable of.”

“But they can’t keep testing forever,” Shen noted slowly. “Do they simply want a war of attrition? To see how many we can kill before succumbing? What could they possibly have left to test that we have not faced before.”

“The Imperator said that we’d done better than expected,” Patricia added. “And that there was only ‘One final test’ which he refused to specify.”

The Commander and Vahlen exchanged a glance. He pursed his lips at the thought. One final test. So that meant that either way, the endgame was coming one way or another, and as for this final test, he already had a decent theory. Which meant that time was almost out.

“And what could that be?” Bradford asked, frowning as he crossed his arms. “Like Shen said, what do we have left to prove besides facing a full invasion?”

Patricia rested her hands on the holotable, looking at the blank screens. “It’s actually pretty clear,” she began quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. There is only one thing that would warrant a term with that much finality. The final test is if we can kill an Ethereal.”

There was silence at that.

“It makes sense,” Vahlen finally said after a few seconds. “We know that the Ethereals have each species in a certain hierarchy of sorts, with the Sectoids and Vitakara near the top and the Mutons at the bottom. How better to test how valuable we are than pitting us against their best?”

“One thing doesn’t make sense in all of this,” Van Doorn interjected, his brow furrowed as he stared down into the blank holotable. “Why specifically go to war with our species? They didn’t with the Vitakara, and presumably the Sectoids either. The Mutons, yes, but from what Nartha described, they were far more primitive than us. We’re capable of diplomacy, so why not even attempt it in the first place?”

“It might fail?” The Commander shrugged. “I cannot see our species willingly submitting ourselves under another power, whereas it was clearly the case with the Vitakara and Sectoids.”

“Yes, it might,” Van Doorn nodded. “But I’d at least understand them going to war if that happened. But as it stands I don’t know why our species is singled out among the others.”

“The answer is simple,” Zhang interjected flatly, his tone neutral but firm. “They want soldiers. Warriors. They are not interested in our diplomatic talents or negotiations. They don’t plan for peace. They are planning to go to war, either with the galaxy or with these others who they supposedly fear. How else are they supposed to determine if we have what it takes unless they put our species through a war against a technologically and logistically superior enemy? Do you think they care how many of their own die if in return they learn that we have the potential to defeat them?”

“But taking that so far as to gamble one of their own?” Jackson asked, shaking her head. “Aren’t there only a few of them left?”

“Sacrificing one powerful Ethereal for potentially hundreds just as strong?” The Commander asked. “I’d consider that a valid move. These Ethereals are a dying or dead species. They are powerful, but they are limited in numbers. But if they have access to humans just as powerful, they could use us and no longer have to risk themselves.”

“Regardless, I think an invasion is coming soon,” Bradford warned quietly. “If we kill an Ethereal, we will likely be deemed a threat that needs to be neutralized. If we don’t, XCOM likely falls and the Ethereals end their experiment and come to enslave us.”

“A no-win situation,” Patricia muttered. “And we’re running out of time. But what else can we do?”

“Nothing,” the Commander stated, resting his hands on the table. “We’re doing everything we can. But this tells us that the Ethereals are likely going to strike soon. Perhaps at another city, perhaps even here. We can’t do anything except prepare and make sure everything is in place to execute both the Advent Directive, and the Demeter and Hephaestus Contingencies.”

“The Atlas Protocol too,” Patricia reminded him. “But we have a name for their leader and what their strategy is here. That has to count for something.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded.

She inclined her head towards him. “That’s all, go ahead with what you were planning, Commander.”

He almost snorted. _That’s all._ Sure, understatement of the week. He wondered if that was going to overshadow his own, much less severe, revelation.

Unlikely.

He took a breath. “There’s something all of you need to know,” he looked around at them, all of them awaiting what he had to say. “You knew I had once worked under the Commander.” There were a couple nods. “That was a lie.” Some frowns and cocked heads. Here it went. “I did not work for him, I _am_ the Commander.”

Van Doorn and Bradford looked stunned, their mouths partially opened in shock. Patricia was blinking rapidly, intently trying to stare at him in undisguised appraisal. Shen looked like he was going to faint, and Jackson leaned on the holotable for support. Even Zhang was expressing an emotion, _curiosity_ , which radiated out of him as he appraised him in a seemingly new light.

“I’m going to guess you’re not fucking making this up,” Jackson said, in between breaths. “Noo…of course not. God…”

“ _How_?” Patricia and Bradford asked at almost the same time.

“Because the UN faked my death,” he answered simply, calmly. “I didn’t know why. Still don’t, truthfully. It might have been to take command of XCOM. It might have been in case they needed me. Whatever the case, they felt I was more valuable alive than dead.”

“I…can’t believe it,” Van Doorn muttered, staring down in disbelief. “Even after what you did, they still let you live. They lied to everyone…”

“Everything makes sense now,” Shen said hollowly, his voice aged and devoid of all emotion. “The contingencies, the experiments, your tactics, so many boundaries crossed and it never occurred to me to wonder if the reason that seemed so obvious was ever correct. Everything about you reminded me of the War on Terror, and I thought it was because you had worked with him. But no, it was because it _was_ you.”

“And the Council…” Bradford said in wonder. “That was why they were so divided. They weren’t all on board putting you in charge, were they?”

“No, they were not,” the Commander nodded.

“It seems so obvious in hindsight,” Van Doorn muttered. “You never hid your intentions. Not really. But I never believed that the answer was that th… _you_ were leading us. A war criminal. Leading humanity’s first and last line of defense. Because they felt there was no better choice.”

“I understand why you didn’t tell us before,” Shen said slowly. “But…why? Why now?”

“Because I don’t want to lie to you anymore,” he told them quietly. “Each of you deserved to know the truth, especially as the end likely approaches. I’ve worked with all of you for a long time, enough for you to reach your own conclusions about me. I know perfectly well what I’ve done and why I’m despised. But I am not the irrational murderer, terrorist or villain I have been characterized as.”

“And do you regret any of what you did?” Van Doorn demanded. “Do you feel any remorse for the thousands you’ve killed?”

The Commander looked the General in the eye. “I regret that it came to a war. I regret that the Caliphate rose into a power capable of threatening the world. I am sorry that so many had to die, and were there a way to change it, I would have found it. But no, General. I do not regret anything I did during the War on Terror. I performed my duty, which is protect the world, no matter the cost.”

“Something you’ve clearly not forgotten,” Shen muttered.

“No, because I never hid that,” the Commander reminded him. “I’ve given each of you the authority to question my plans, which you’ve taken up on occasion, but each order you’re no doubt thinking about now, that was done with us _together_. I may have written it and defended it, but the reason that these are in place is because we all agreed they are _necessary_.”

“How far we have fallen,” Shen said softly. “What kind of saviors are we? Torture. Human experimentation. Plotting the dismantling of nations. _Killing_ innocent people. How can _we_ really be humanity’s best chance?”

“And where do you think we would be if we hadn’t taken those steps?” The Commander demanded harshly. “Do you think I _enjoyed_ what I did? _No_. I did _not_. But the reason I’m able to sleep at night is because everything I _did_ , that I’ve _done_ , and that I’m _doing_ , I can _justify._ War is _unfair_. It is _wrong_. But that does not mean that we can ignore _reality_ , and the _reality_ is that without doing what is necessary _all of us will die!_ ”

Everyone was silent as they stared in varying stages of shock, disbelief and confusion. “I know what I’ve done and ordered has been wrong, morally and otherwise,” he continued in a much quieter tone. “I’ll burn in hell for it. I accepted that long ago. But that doesn’t change what has to be done. We still have a planet to defend. Now you know. I want to continue working with you, but with you knowing the truth. If you decide against it, I won’t hold it against you.”

He stepped back. “Take some time, think it over,” he sighed. “I’ll be working around here, as always. But if you do make your decision one way or another…just let me know.”

The air of shock and disbelief was still strong, but all of them visibly composed themselves and walked slowly out of the room, save Vahlen. Despite the strong emotions, he could tell that them completely abandoning XCOM was low. All of them knew what was at stake and how it was bigger than any one person. He suspected Van Doorn was more upset that he hadn’t noticed anything, than about the details of his past. He’d known more of the Commander than anyone else, especially during the war on terror, so this revelation was likely to affect him a little more than the rest. With the possible exception of Shen, of course.

Guess he would see later. As the door slid shut behind them, he let out a sigh. “And there it is.”

Vahlen stepped up beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulder, and he did the same to her as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I think that’s probably as good as you could have expected.”

“I think most of them are still in shock,” he muttered. “I guess it’s not every day you find out that your boss is actually the most infamous war criminal in the last few decades.”

“Or friend,” Vahlen murmured.

“Or friend,” he agreed. “I guess we’ll see.”

“What Patricia said was also concerning,” Vahlen remembered. “I don’t like where this is heading.”

He nodded, pulling her in a little tighter. “If this Imperator is getting involved, I guess everything is coming to a head. The war is coming.”

She looked up at him. “A war of the worlds?”

He snorted, then chuckled at the cheeky comment. “I walked into that one.”

She pulled away, and lifted a hand to straighten some unruly hairs. “Let’s get to work. I suspect we’ll have to pick up some slack today.”

“That we will,” the Commander agreed, turning to the screen. “Let’s hope there are no more exciting events for a while.”

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

Rifle set up, primed and ready to fire.

 _“Target on approach,”_ Mary informed him from his earpiece. _“Estimated five minutes.”_

“Copy that,” he confirmed, looking over the street through his scope. Taking the Chronicler out near his home was ultimately the best location for the purposes of minimizing collateral damage. Not that he was going to miss, but he didn’t exactly want pandemonium to break out, though that was likely going to happen to some extent.

Overall, his vantage point was excellent, atop one of the apartments which gave him a clear view of every entrance into the Chroniclers apartment. There were a few people milling around the run-down streets. Several kids were playing near a rusty basketball hoop, doing their best not to let the ball run away from them and add another dent to the banged-up vehicles around the vicinity.

He looked down towards where Ruth was hanging around on the street. Backup one, in case it went south. If it _did_ go south…well, they were not in a good position to put it lightly. But the Chronicler expected him to be gone, and didn’t know XCOM agents were operating in the area, much less who they were.

 _“Hey, heard from the others recently?”_ Mary asked.

“No,” Cerian answered, sweeping the street again. “Don’t really expect to unless the safe house is compromised. I’m already posing a risk by being here.”

 _“Right,”_ she sighed. _“Just wanted to make sure it was good. I don’t like how blind we are in this.”_

 _“If you ask me, we’re already going overboard,”_ their second backup, agent Kalon-something interjected from his place under a tree. _“Psions are not invincible, especially human ones.”_

That man was the best actor Cerian had ever seen. Switching between accents and speech patterns within seconds, and changing his entire body into something else was incredible to see. Right now he looked the perfect homeless and depraved victim, the kind parents kept their children away from. No one would ever suspect he was actually an assassin.

So in total there were three ground agents. Him, Ruth and Kalonymous, with Mary tracking the Chronicler through the city. Since this Chronicler likely knew who his team was, there was the likely possibility that he would detect them if his whole team showed up to help and they’d lose the element of surprise. But he didn’t feel that a large team was needed, especially with a single target, psion or no. The rest of the team knew the plan, or course, but it was too large a risk for anyone outside the XCOM agents to accompany him to do the deed.

Mary had only picked up the Chronicler’s location a few hours ago, which was fortunate because he’d worried that they wouldn’t have any prior warning. But Mary was good, and had likely gotten help from XCOM’s own computer expert.

“Mary, you preparing to knock out cell reception?” Cerian asked.

 _“Already done,”_ Mary said. _“One minute, stand by. Yellow taxi, license plate 7GT-12M.”_

“Affirmative, Ruth, you got that?”

_“Ready and waiting,”_

He took a breath and overlooked the area once more. Knocking out cellular reception was necessary in order for them to make their escape without suspicion. Someone would doubtless try and call 911 and he’d prefer to have vacated the scene long before then. Or worst case, it would prevent more people from getting killed if it turned into a shooting match.

 _“Target sighted,”_ Ruth informed urgently. Cerian swiveled till he overlooked the drop-off point, hovering over the passenger side door of the taxi as it pulled up. He held his breath, then let out a sigh of relief as he confirmed that it was in fact, the Chronicler. The taxi sped off and without any concern, he started walking normally back to his apartment.

No need to communicate what was going to happen. They had planned it well in advance. Once the taxi was out of sight, the kill would be executed within thirty seconds. Then the Chronicler suddenly stopped in his tracks, frowning. No time to wait.

He fired, the bullet streaking towards the aged man’s face.

And nothing happened.

Impossible. He couldn’t have missed. There wasn’t any impact anywhere. Unless…

He took another look through his scope and noted in dismay that the bullet was hovering a few inches from the Chronicler’s face, he lifted a hand and plucked the bullet out of the air and pocketed it with one smooth motion. Then he looked right into the scope and smiled.

“Target is _up_ ,” Cerian hissed, quickly lining up another shot. _“Move.”_

Ruth pulled out her pistol and began approaching, and the Chronicler pulled a small pistol from his jacket, raised it to the right and fired at the disguised Kalonymous with no warning whatsoever. He didn’t have time to react, the bullets striking his head and throat and he slumped to the ground, a stunned expression plastered on his face.

Everyone in the vicinity ran away as gunshots rang out. Cerian fired several more shots, and Ruth began firing with her own weapon. None his sniper rounds hit, as he simply raised a hand to freeze the bullets in mid-air. Ruth fared no better, and he directed his attention to her, raising a hand towards her and she collapsed to the ground a second later.

He had to get out of here now. This had gone horribly wrong. “Mary! Get out now! Mission aborted!”

Silence. _Fuck_.

He had to get out of here now, Ruth was as good as dead and the Council needed to know this psion was a bigger threat than they realized. But eluding a mind-reading man was going to be a difficult proposition, so he had to be careful and sneak out as quickly and quietly as possible. He opened the door leading to the lower floors and drew his pistol, preparing for an attack to come, either mentally or physically.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

_Several hours earlier_

The safe house shouldn’t be too far now. According to what Ruth had provided Zhang, there were only a few likely places they’d establish operations and fortunately, both were pretty close. She was hoping she looked nondescript enough, wearing a beige shirt with a brown leather jacket over it carrying one of Shen’s new Pulse pistols, and brown pants. The combat boots might be a little out of place, but she’d prefer the enhanced mobility if something had happened.

Right, so here she was. A fairly ordinary hotel, just on the outskirts. Not a dump, but also unlikely to attract much attention. She walked into the mostly empty lobby, her boots clacking on the tile as she walked to the elevator.

Room 2-24, second floor, 24th room. Hopefully Akello would be monitoring the security cameras and would see her coming. Provided they were here in the first place. The carpet absorbed all the noise she made as she strode towards the door. Standing in front of the chipped wooden door, she raised a hand to knock, then hesitated.

As unlikely as it was, if something had happened, they would know she was coming. Besides, Ruth would know she was here and let her in without needing her to knock. So instead she leaned against the nearby wall and waited for a minute. Than two. She sighed and looked up in the direction of the camera. _Anytime Akello-_

Then froze, her enhanced eyes focusing on the camera. For all intents and purposes, it looked working, but she could clearly see that the power had been cut. She went cold and withdrew her pistol, taking some comfort in the red glow of the laser.

Ok. How best to deal with this. She needed to get into the room, that much was clear, but how to do it in a discreet way. She thought for a moment, and the answer soon came. It wasn’t perfect, but it might allow her to keep the element of surprise. She aimed the pistol at the handle and fired, turning the cheap metal to slag after a few seconds of sustained fire.

She’d fortunately worn gloves, a small habit she’d gotten into recently. Much less chance of leaving incriminating evidence if fingerprints weren’t able to be found. And it also came in handy when you needed to touch hot objects. She pushed the door forward and fell to one knee in case there were any hostiles.

As the door swung open, she immediately saw two people, _none_ of whom she recognized. A man and a woman. She didn’t hesitate and fired two quick beams at their heads, melting new holes in their brains. They collapsed to the ground and she took a step forward into the small room, weapon still raised.

And froze in horror.

Sitting at the far corner at a desk was Akello, slumped over with several bullet holes in her back, the desk, laptop and floor stained with her blood. She quickly swung her weapon around, confirming that there were no other enemies. She carefully knelt down to the bodies of these people and turned the woman over.

Her face was a melted mess now, but she was definitely a soldier. She had some body armor underneath her civilian clothes, as well as a pistol in her jacket. Abby quickly rifled through her pockets, finding a pocketknife, some change and a wallet. She quickly opened it up and took out some cash and credit cards. There was an ID, but she’d seen enough fakeries to know this wasn’t real. But frustratingly no solid ID.

She repeated the same thing with the man, and similarly found nothing worthwhile. She scowled and rose, her heart pounding as she struggled to piece this together. No markings or identification. All signs pointed to an EXALT attack, but it felt wrong. Zhang had said they had something of a truce with XCOM now, unless they’d been lying….

She stepped over the bodies and slowly made her way towards Akello, grasping the body lightly by the shoulder and pulling it up. It was surprisingly easy to move, and the skin still felt warm which meant that she’d died recently. And she was dead, no doubt about it. No one could survive this much blood loss and a shot to the head.

Akello’s face was oddly serene, which only told her that she hadn’t been expecting this attack. Abby looked to where she was sitting, then back at the body. It didn’t add up. These shots had been at point-blank range, and the glass was intact meaning that this wasn’t done by a sniper. She’d also been working, and there was no way that anyone could get to the angle needed without her noticing.

So what did _that_ mean? Had Akello known these people? Let them in and when she’d gone back to work, they’d shot her in the back? Following that logic, that _did_ rule out EXALT, but then that raised the question of _who_?

Right, she needed to put together a much clearer picture. She walked back toward the door and shut it to prevent someone from looking in on this. Right. So before she’d unceremoniously melted the handle off, it appeared that the door had been completely fine. There weren’t any scratches, scuffs or any other signs that indicated it had been a forced entry.

So two possibilities: Either Akello had let them in, or they’d had a key of their own. It had to be the former. Akello would have ensured that there was no other key, not to mention she had control of the cameras and would be able to know when someone was coming up. Even if they _did_ have a key and used it, why would Akello just sit there as they came in? She had a direct line of sight to the door, and _couldn’t_ have missed it opening.

Abby nodded. The chances of her _not_ knowing these people was close to nonexistent. In which case, the next question was _who_ these people were. She knelt down by the bodies again. Israeli agents, perhaps? It would explain why Ruth might allow others in, but neither of them looked Israeli. Both were Caucasian and if she had to have guessed, maybe American or European. Besides, why _would_ Israel want to not only hurt XCOM, but take out their own former agents for no reason?

They couldn’t have just been mercenaries or grunts either. Ruth didn’t have close contacts with those kind of people, not to mention again that regular people wouldn’t have been able to get the jump on them. So that only apparently left one suspect: EXALT.

But that still didn’t make sense. Maybe if Zhang hadn’t said there was something of a truce, but even taking that away, they still shouldn’t have been able to surprise them unless of course they knew they were coming? Abby pursed her lips as she stood. Something was really off here. No suspect made sense. Perhaps agents from another country? But who and why?

She reached down and picked up one of their pistols, taking a good look at it. Grasping it, she walked back to where Akello’s corpse was, trying to recreate exactly what might have happened. So Akello was working, perhaps one of these operatives had come up behind her when her guard was down, raised her pistol like so, and…

Abby mimed aiming the gun at Akello’s bullet-ridden body. Three shots and one to the head. Yes, that had to be what had happened. There were no other ways for her to be shot like this, especially since the window was intact and there were no bullet holes on the opposite wall. Abby tossed the pistol on the bed in disgust. That was most likely what had happened, though she’d likely not know who until the bodies were ID’d later. But now she had a more pressing concern.

The good news was that Ruth and Kalonymous were gone. Hopefully they were still alive, but if they _had_ been working with…someone, they were walking into a trap would die unless warned. That meant she needed to know where they were headed. Abby looked at the blood-splattered screen, only seeing several documents and programming shells open.

She looked at the papers on the table, her eyes immediately drawn to the markings on a map. She grimaced as she picked up the map which had some dried blood on it, but didn’t really have a choice. There was definitely something supposed to happen at one particular…housing complex? Apartment? Whatever the case it was circled, with several lines drawn in different colors to and from here.

There were also an array of numbers on the map. Times. She looked down at the list. 4:30. Was that when the operation was supposed to happen? She glanced at the time right now. 2:41. Damn it. She might be wrong, but it didn’t look like she had a choice. Ruth and Kalonymous were walking into a trap, and if she couldn’t get there in time they were probably going to die.

“I’ll come back,” she promised Akello’s corpse, feeling a stab of guilt over leaving her so quickly. But she didn’t deserve to die like this, and the least she could do was make sure she was taken care of. But not before the people who did this paid for their crimes. Grabbing the map, she quickly exited the room, furiously planning how she was going to get there.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

Cerian had never been spooked in an apartment, but there was a first time for everything it seemed. Every sound warranted a response, and it wasn’t a stretch to assume that the Chronicler was heading his way so he had to be quiet.

The narrow hallway didn’t provide any cover in case he ended up coming here. Cerian scowled, he needed eyes outside and in retrospect, coming in here was probably what he _shouldn’t_ have done. He needed to put distance between him and the Chronicler, and he’d effectively boxed himself in. Going out the front door wasn’t going to happen, so he needed another approach.

After some hesitation, he picked one of the apartment room and pushed it open. Thankfully it wasn’t locked and he stepped into a clearly lived-in room, which was incredibly similar, if not exact to the Chronicler’s. Couches were arranged around a small TV, and the kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes. He glanced around, and seeing no one, cautiously made his way over to the window to get a good look outside.

Concrete all the way down. No way he could get out this way. The sound of fabric rubbing together reached his ears and he spun towards the sound, pistol raised at the young woman who clearly lived here. But she was standing in a way he suspected she was unaccustomed to. Straight and with her hands clasped behind her back, something an executive or businesswoman would do, not a young woman who lived here.

Not to mention her irises were a faint violet.

“Do you really think you can leave here, Cerian Irelan?” She asked, though he knew that the Chronicler was speaking through her.

“Remains to be seen,” he muttered, not lowering the weapon.

“Put that down,” she…he…said, scorn emanating from her light voice. She had an unnatural smile on her face as she appraised him. “You are not going to shoot an innocent woman.”

Cerian lowered his weapon. “You’re right, I won’t,” he said, before flipping the pistol around in his hand and taking a step forward then swiftly clocking her on the head, causing her to collapse in a heap.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he hastily exited the room. He needed to put some distance between him, since he likely had his exact location. He jogged down the silent hallway, past the rows of doors as he looked for the stairs down.

“Do you really think knocking out one single woman changes anything?” A man with similar purple irises asked from the end of the hall, leaning casually against it.

“Let them go,” Cerian demanded, raising his pistol again. “It’s me you want.”

The man shook his head. “I’m disappointed, but not surprised. But no. You brought this upon yourself and all these people. Your people will die because of you.”

Cerian smiled. “No they won’t. They’ll be long gone by the time you try to find them.”

The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed to the ground. Cerian frowned, and slowly began moving down the rickety stairs, and just as he reached the next floor the lights went out. He scowled into the darkness, wishing he had a flashlight, although that would make him very obvious. The Chronicler was clearly trying to get into his head and unnerve him.

He couldn’t really say it wasn’t working.

Darkness didn’t intimidate him, he suspected that was likely the same for most people. They didn’t fear the darkness. They feared what was within it.

He froze as a pair of glowing irises appeared and began moving towards him, contained in the silhouette of a child. “You’ve made things difficult for me, Cerian,” she said, the words sounding odd coming from such a young girl. “But not impossible. Not nearly that. Did you really think it was luck that allowed your woman to locate me and _track_ me?” The girl tsked. “You never once asked where I was before that.”

Cerian had a horrible feeling in his gut. That couldn’t be right…”Oh, but it is,” she continued. “I found your team. Two of them went and killed that XCOM operative and will be instrumental in leading agent Gertrude here.”

“You’re lying,” Cerian growled, wishing he could believe that. But deep down, he didn’t.

“Stop pointing that at children,” a familiar voice demanded from behind him, and Cerian turned as the child collapsed to the ground to see the familiar form of the Chronicler, glowing eyes and everything.

Cerian immediately began firing, the Chronicler not even flinching as he emptied the magazine at the demon before him, not stopping until the gun was clicking. “The other two will deal with each other,” the Chronicler continued, taking a step toward him. “I suspect the police will have questions as to why one committed suicide after murdering the other one, but they will never know for certain.”

Cerian pulled out a knife, even knowing it was futile. “And you wondered why we consider you a threat.”

“You _made_ me a threat,” he hissed, a tangible tremor reverberating in his voice. “I _let_ you go. I _warned_ you to leave. But you couldn’t do that, no, you couldn’t risk leaving a _threat_ like me alive. But I suppose I already knew, that. What you would do. I never stopped watching your team, Cerian, I was near when you conceived of your plan to _assassinate me_. I _listened_ when you contacted agent Shira. I _knew_ your plan from the beginning, because you made it so obvious what you were going to do.”

He involuntarily shivered as he realized just how clearly he’d been played. This had been a trap, yes, but only for him. He attempted to keep some conviction in his voice. “Killing me will only raise questions,” Cerian warned, not breaking eye contact. “The Council knows you exist; who you are. Not to mention how XCOM will react when they find their agents dead.”

“The Council is irrelevant and obsolete,” the Chronicler stated with absolute certainty. “And yes XCOM will retaliate when they learn who killed their agents. But it will not be at EXALT, nor me.”

“Maybe not at first,” Cerian said, taking a ready position. “But they’ll ask questions. The Commander is smart. He’ll figure out what happened.”

“You misunderstand me,” the Chronicler corrected, smiling slightly in the darkness. “They will know who did it. XCOM has sent another agent to bring Ruth and her team back. How do you think they’re going to respond when they identify your team? How do you think _she_ is going to react when you execute her friend right in front of her?”

Cerian went cold as he realized what was going to happen. “I won’t do that.”

The Chronicler’s eyes flared. “You won’t have a choice.”

Cerian gasped as what felt like an unbearable headache appeared in his mind, with _something_ beyond it. A voice searching for a way inside. It pounded against him, weakening his will every second. He gritted his teeth, clutching his temple to keep it out. He wouldn’t let this man inside his head.

“You are strong, for one untrained,” he heard the Chronicler say above him. “But not quite strong enough.”

Cerian didn’t know how long he held out for. It could have been as short as a few minutes or as long as a few hours. Either way he knew at one point he broke and _something_ else entered his mind. And oddly enough, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would. Everything felt faded around him, like he was sleepwalking, seeing the world, but not quite comprehending it.

Was that all this really was? A bad dream?

He’d have to think on that. But after he retrieved his sniper rifle. He had a feeling like he was going to need it later.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

This was very bad.

She’d sent a quick update to Zhang, who’d authorized her to continue investigating and here she was. The run-down apartment complex was seemingly deserted, the dilapidated parking lot holding several rusty cars and one body lying on the ground. It looked like a homeless man, but one who was reaching into his jacket for something, possibly a pistol.

Abby drew her own weapon and cautiously walked forward until she got a good look at the corpse. “Damn it,” she muttered as she realized who it was. Kalonymous must have tried to launch a surprise attack, though from his dying expression, she guessed it had been the other way around. The shots were exceedingly precise too, one in the head and one in the throat.

She glanced up towards the roofs. A sniper?

She looked back at the body, noting that the shots seemed to have impacted directly from the front, and his body wasn’t facing the roofs, so that lowered the possibility of a sniper. Regardless, whoever had killed him was an excellent shot.

“Sorry,” she murmured to him as she kept going. So whatever happened, she’d been too late to stop it, which either meant that Ruth was dead or captured. There was a possibility of her escape, but if she had she would have contacted Zhang since they were compromised so badly. She focused on the apartment in front of her.

Something was telling her that she’d find some answers inside, though she really didn’t have much more than that to go on. Perhaps someone who’d been here could answer her questions. Although…as she looked at the building again, she couldn’t ignore that there was no light coming from it. Was the power out? Was anyone even living here?

From what she’d been able to read on this place, it _was_ being lived in, but then where was everyone? A shooting would have attracted attention, and at least gotten some kind of police response. Unless of course the residents couldn’t tell them…

This was not boding well for anyone.

Abby cautiously made her way towards the foreboding door, cautiously reaching down to opening it while keeping her pistol up. The wooden door opened with a squeak that was as loud as a scream compared to the silence around her. Yep, the power was out, or at least the lights were off.

The hallway seemed like a typical apartment complex. Long and narrow with doors leading into rooms with a staircase in the middle leading to another floor. Which meant it was a place she could be easily ambushed. She glanced around for anything that looked like a light switch and…nothing.

Made sense. It was probably all controlled in a central administrative building which she didn’t have time to go looking for. So for now she’d have to fumble around in the dark, which wasn’t as hard as it could have been since her eyesight had been enhanced. She couldn’t quite see in the dark, but she could make out objects much easier which she supposed in a way was the same thing.

Now the question was where to start searching. Room by room? No, too impractical and it would take forever. She looked around on the floors and doors, seeing if any seemed unlike the others. She frowned and walked over to one door a few feet away. The carpet before it had some kind of dark liquid staining it, only a few drops, however…

She knelt and lightly placed a finger on it. Wet. She brought it to her nose. No mistaking it, definitely blood. She stood and aimed her pistol at the door and fired at the handle, melting it off and pushed the door open.

“Fuck!” She snarled as she looked at the sight before her, anger replacing any trepidation she had. Ruth laid on the ground, stripped of almost all her clothing and bound at the hands and ankles. Her body was covered in purple splotches, bruises at first glance. She’d also been cut at the elbows and knees, locations that were surgical and only intended to debilitate.

Abby felt some hope as she saw her chest rising and falling. She needed immediate medical attention otherwise the joints would get infected and then…well, worst case they’d have to be amputated. She dashed over to Ruth, pulling out her knife. “Stay with me,” she ordered here. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Her voice apparently woke her up, or at least grabbed her attention. “Abby?” She murmured deliriously. “What are you doing-“

“Zhang sent me to recall you,” she explained hurriedly, slicing the bonds on her wrist and pulling out a roll of gauze she began wrapping around her cuts. “Hold still. What happened?”

“Tricked,” she muttered, her head slumping forward. “It was a trap. He knew we were coming.”

“Who?” Abby demanded as she wrapped an arm around Ruth, preparing to lift her up. “Who tricked you?”

“Cerian,” she muttered, her voice fading. “Asked us for helping dealing with…someone. EXALT agent.”

Abby frowned. “He’s an EXALT agent?” Making sure Ruth was secure, she stood, propping up Ruth’s body as she suppressed a moan of pain.

“No,” she hissed, as she shuffled forward a couple steps. “UN.”

Abby froze in disbelief. “The _United Nations?_ Cerian is one of _them_?”

“Had a team,” Ruth wheezed as they took a few steps forward. “Promised to help. Shoulda known he’d…” she trailed off and her head dipped.

“Hey! Stay up,” Abby ordered, thinking furiously. “We don’t have far.”

Ruth simply nodded and they kept moving, foot by excruciating foot. This was much worse than she could have imagined. EXALT or the aliens she could understand, but the _UN_? Why would _they_ want to attack XCOM? Or had Ruth been close to uncovering something? Wait….

She perked up as a new idea entered her head. If Ruth _had_ been ready to uncover something, it might not have just been dealing with EXALT. Maybe the United Nations was involved as well, and in response had sent their own team to get rid of the troublemakers under the guise of dealing with EXALT. But what could _that_ mean?

Zhang would have to sort that out. All she needed to do was get out. “Almost outside,” she encouraged as they got close to the exit. “This Cerian, he still here?”

She probably should have asked that question first, but they were somewhat pressed for time regardless. “Assume so,” Ruth muttered in a daze. “Didn’t really say he was leaving after he beat me up. Didn’t even ask any questions.”

Righteous fury filled her at the thought of that happening to her. Fortunate for Cerian that she was more interested in making sure they both lived else she would find this traitor and kill him. “You’re going to be fine,” she promised as she pushed the door open.

A cool breeze swept over them as they took in the evening. But something was different. There was someone-

Ruth’s head snapped back and Abby’s face was splattered in blood as Ruth’s head took the impact of the bullet. A perfect shot, splitting the forehead wide open, killing her instantly. Self-preservation took over and Abby dropped her now-dead friend and spun back into the apartment, near the entrance.

 _No no no._ This couldn’t happen. Not _now_. Another bullet slammed into the wall behind her, the sound of the impact louder than the shot itself. _Silenced_. A sniper. She risked a glance outside and saw him propped up behind a rusty car, at a distance that would be almost impossible to hit at this range.

But fortunately, she wasn’t an ordinary human anymore. She risked another glance out to get a better look at the man. If this was Cerian or not, she didn’t know, but it was clearly an older man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Oddly enough his blue eyes seemed more vivid than normal, almost with a hint of violet.

She leaned back as two more shots thudded into the wall behind her and prepared her shot. One pulse shot would be all it would take, and she only had to hit the weapon to debilitate him. She swung out, raising the pistol and fired a simmering red beam towards the sniper which hit the rifle dead-on, making it spark and forcing him to step back.

Taking advantage of his distraction she dashed outside firing several more bursts in his general direction as he reached for a pistol at his hip. She snarled as she locked her weapon on him, firing another beam that burned into his wrist, slicing the hand clean off. He let out a yell of pain and stumbled back, clutching his amputated limb.

She lowered her weapon, letting her fury simmer as she watched the man who’d killed Ruth stumble back, gritting his teeth in pain. With practiced movements she reloaded the pulse pistol and slowly approached the man. He held up his good hand. “Wait.”

She instantly aimed her pistol at his knees and fired a sustained beam and directed the beam left, neatly cutting the legs at that point. He screamed as his functioning body fell to the ground, sweat pouring down his face and flushed red from the pain, as well as panting heavily.

“You killed her!” Abby snarled, the anger inside her rising even higher as she stood over him. “ _Why_? Who are you!?”

“Orders,” he gasped. “Cerian, that’s my name, Cerian. You don’t understand what’s happening!”

 _He’s lying_.

Abby frowned at the voice in her head. It was hers, yes, but with a conviction and certainty she wasn’t sure could be possible. Except…after thinking about it a few seconds, she ultimately agreed with it. He wasn’t lying about why he’d done it or his name, but she was pretty sure she understood what was going on. “Maybe better than you think,” she stated coldly, aiming the pistol at his head. “Who do you work for?”

“You’re being tricked!” He shouted frantically. “We’re being played against each other.”

She hesitated. His tone seemed genuine…maybe….the image of him blowing Ruth’s head off appeared in her mind in vivid detail, and there was no question as to who’d pulled the trigger. Her gaze hardened and she looked mercilessly down upon him. “Answer the question.”

“I…” he winced and looked down, panting heavily. “The United Nations. The Council specifically.”

So it was true. Her pistol wavered. What should she do? Take him prisoner for interrogation seemed the smartest thing to do. If this extended beyond the Council, they needed to know exactly how high up this went. That was assuming that he even knew anything. It wasn’t as though they could use him as a reliable witness if it was true. He would just be disavowed. The UN would never risk using someone who would actually be able to implicate them.

There was actually a much simpler way to solve this problem.

_Kill him._

She recoiled at the thought initially. Kill him? He clearly wasn’t a threat anymore, and keeping him alive was the tactically smarter option. Right?

_Do you really think the Council would actually leave anyone behind who could actually tell us anything?_

She scowled, that thought making more sense that she liked. Still though, was killing him the best solution? And for what? Because she’d feel better. No, of course not.

_Because he deserved it._

She looked down on him, an elder who actually at the moment looked his age, crippled beyond all repair. But he wasn’t a friendly old grandpa. This was a veteran killer, one who’d killed her mentor and friend, not to mention was skilled enough to take out a team of Kidon agents. Kalonymous and Akello had died because of him. Really…what other fate did he deserve?

 _But that should be for Zhang to decide._ She argued in her head, not sure what to do. _Not me._

 _Why not?_ The other voice persisted. _You know he is going to die anyway. Why shouldn’t it be by your hand?_

Because she realized that she wanted him dead, and she wanted to be the one to do it. Abby shook her head. Sure, maybe he deserved to die for what he’d done, well he _did_. But…she wasn’t a killer, not like Ruth or Zhang.

 _Yes you are._ _You became one the moment you executed those people._

And the worst part of that persistent little voice was that she feared it was right. She didn’t like it, she hadn’t wanted anything like it. But the fact was that it was a part of her, her darkest aspect, but one that existed nonetheless. No matter how much she tried to deny it, that would never change. She was a killer, now and forever.

Still though, even if she accepted that, she didn’t have to _act_ like one all the time.

_Of course not. Only when it’s necessary._

Like now, maybe. She doubted that either the Commander or Zhang would begrudge her if she killed this man. But this was different from killing those two people back in California. Back then she’d been under orders, but if she killed him here it would be of her own volition. She’d cross a line that could never be taken back.

_But it really? How is this any different than killing wounded aliens? He is an enemy. He is not innocent. Unlike those two, this man actually deserves it._

Her hand steadied as she aimed at the man’s head, barely registering anything around her. That was a good point. It wasn’t as though she had an innocent man before her. This likely wasn’t the first time this man had killed someone, and it probably wouldn’t be the last had he succeeded. If anything, she’d probably be doing the world a favor by removing such a dangerous person.

“He’s in your head,” Cerian muttered, looking pleadingly up at her. “Those aren’t-“

He was cut off by a red beam drilling into his forehead. Mouth half-open, he fell back into the concrete, dead eyes looking skyward as red and gray liquid leaked out of the neat hole the laser had made.

Abby lowered the pistol slowly, looking on the corpse with a coldness she hadn’t known she’d possessed. Oddly enough, seeing him dead before her…didn’t elicit a response. She didn’t feel bad, didn’t feel like she’d done something wrong. And in a way, it did make sense. He was a threat, an enemy combatant, and she’d just neutralized him.

Problem solved. Ruth would have been proud.

Zhang might be disappointed that she hadn’t brought him back alive, but she knew intrinsically that it would have been a waste of time. He wouldn’t have cracked, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have told them anything that could help them. Besides, if he’d been killed in a shootout there really wasn’t anything she could have done to capture him.

Her lips pursed at that. She disliked lying to Zhang, should it come to that, but she didn’t feel that bad about it. He owed her one after making her kill two civilians, and this would be sufficient payment. But the Council really doing this…

She shook her head. She’d personally felt the Commander’s dislike of them was irrational, but perhaps he had good reason to be. Perhaps he’d already known the Council was moving against them, else why activate the Demeter Contingency? Why create ADVENT unless the old institution needed to be destroyed and rebuilt?

Maybe all that was happening wasn’t as outlandish and irrational as she’d first wondered. Maybe the Commander was right to consider the UN an enemy…especially if this was happening. She walked back over to Ruth’s body which had been unceremoniously dumped on the ground, blood leaking from her forehead and splattering the rest of her face with blood.

Abby sighed and reached down to close her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it did make her look a little more at peace. Marginally. She rose and pulled out her phone. She wanted out of this place now.

Preferably before any cops showed up.


	41. Repercussions

 

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

Zhang read her report in silence while she stood straight, hands clasped behind her back as she waited for the inevitable questioning. The extent of the emotion he’d displayed when she’d told him the brief story had been a frown, though she could tell he wasn’t entirely happy. Something seemed off with him, though if she hadn’t been enhanced, she’d probably miss the facial cues that he wasn’t as focused as normal.

Then again, XCOM Intelligence operations rarely failed this extensively.

“You’re certain that the man you killed was Cerian Irelan?” Zhang finally asked, setting the report quietly down on the table.

“Certain,” Abby confirmed flatly. “Ruth assured me he was. Do you know him?”

“No,” Zhang answered. “But if he was UN, I would expect any traces of him were removed. His team, however, we were able to identify.”

“And who are they?” Abby asked.

“The two people you killed were former intelligence agents,” Zhang informed her, picking up some pictures and handing them to her. “Olivia Croian and Baston Novian. MI6 and NATO respectively. As far as we’ve been able to determine, they haven’t been transferred. That being said, that gives us a line of questioning into the UN’s involvement.”

She could read between the lines easily enough. “But that’s not enough.”

“No,” he stated bluntly, his hardened eyes boring into hers. “As you were unable to bring in Cerian for questioning, we cannot officially prove it.”

“Would it have helped?” Abby asked, meeting his unwavering gaze. “If he was wiped from the records, then how exactly would that help us prove the Council was behind it. You know they’d just deny it.”

“Of _course_ they would deny it,” Zhang almost growled. “But what it would have done is _connected_ him to the other bodies we found. It would give us more validity and made it harder for the Council to deny this. _I_ believe you, but we will have to act on this carefully.”

“I did what was needed,” Abby defended neutrally. “I preferred not to risk getting shot in the head.”

“I know,” Zhang said in an equally neutral tone. “But in the future, exercise restraint. I know she was your friend, but that cannot affect you completing the mission.”

Abby gave a sharp nod. “Understood, sir.”

“Good,” Zhang said, pursing his lips. “Now as to what we will do with this, that has yet to be decided. If the Council is taking action against us, we may have to speed up the execution of the Demeter Contingency. I assume you read it?”

“Of course,” was all she said. “And I assume you have plans to deploy me in preparation?”

“I do,” he nodded. “But I am curious. Will you have an issue carrying out this contingency?”

She was silent a few moments before answering. If he’d asked her that even a few days ago, the answer would have probably been a yes. She’d probably have still done it if ordered, but it wouldn’t have been something she’d ever endorse. But that wasn’t the case now.

She’d always thought that no matter how misguided, the United Nations was for the most part, more interested in the well-being of humanity. This past mission had been eye-opening in that regard. They didn’t care anymore than the thousands of politicians around the world. They were more concerned about their own power than either EXALT or the aliens.

She’d been naïve to have ignored that. And she had ignored every problem in the UN, tried to justify it even when knowing deep down that it wasn’t an ideal humanity should strive for. It was just as vindictive and traitorous as EXALT, even worse since EXALT hadn’t ever hidden behind the façade of friendship.

How ironic that the Commander had been right all along to be suspicious of the United Nations. No wonder he had plans to remove it if it had ever became an enemy. She’d always thought it was a grudge, and it might be in part, but given what she’d seen now, she was now wondering if the stories surrounding the War on Terror were completely accurate.

Or maybe it was propaganda. The result of United Nations creating a scapegoat to hide their own failure to contain the Caliphate. Maybe. She didn’t know anymore. But what she did know now was that she would have no remorse when the General Assembly building was burned to the ground. And if she had a hand in it, all the better.

So her response was easy. “No, Director. I will carry out whatever you order.”

Zhang nodded once. “I’m glad to hear it. The attack on New York killed quite a few people, United Nations personnel included. You’ve proven that you can perform well undercover, so I believe that skill could be applied there until the Demeter Contingency is executed.”

Abby nodded. “Just let me know my identity and position and I’ll assimilate myself properly.”

“I will need some time to find an appropriate file, but you will know soon,” he answered. He appraised her for a few seconds, his face seeming to soften ever slightly. “You’ve become an excellent agent, Abby. Ruth would have been proud.”

“I’ll do my best to live up to her,” Abby promised.

“I’m certain of that,” Zhang said, his tone softening slightly. “And be patient. We will deal with the United Nations decisively.”

Abby’s hand snapped into a salute, her fist over her chest towards her Intelligence Director. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I,” he nodded grimly. “Get some rest, agent. It will be some time before you’re deployed.”

With that, she exited the room and headed towards the Barracks to see if she was still able to sleep.

***

_The Citadel, Training Area_

As Patricia watched the Commander attempt to manipulate several objects at once telekinetically, she wondered why she hadn’t picked up on anything before. He had always felt different even before becoming a psion. He was controlled, cold, _distinct_. A combination that was not like most people at all. But not once had she ever thought that there _might_ be an explanation for that.

The Commander himself. Alive and in front of her this whole time.

Odd how…unaffected…she was by the idea.

Because Shen and Van Doorn had been right. He hadn’t hidden anything. The only lie she could actually point to was his identity. Granted it _was_ slightly important, but as far as she could see, even if he hadn’t _said_ he was the Commander, he’d certainly _acted_ like it. She understood exactly why he hadn’t told any of them at first, and back at the beginning, at best she would have been unnerved that someone like that was her commanding officer.

But now? No, if there was anyone who understood what it would take to defeat the Ethereals, it was him. She understood his mindset better now that she agreed with it to a large degree.

The fact that he’d still allowed her, a mind-reading psionic, into his inner circle, even knowing that at any moment she could break into his mind…that showed that he actually trusted her. She’d always known there were secrets he was keeping, and now that she knew what some of them were…he’d still promoted her anyway.

Had he really been that confident she wouldn’t take advantage? She’d said as much, but this had been before his own psionic awakening when he could accurately confirm. Her lips curled up as she realized the answer to that question. Of course he did. He trusted all of them, even if they didn’t reciprocate. He expected loyalty from them and gave his own in return.

She remembered all the speculation back in the days of the War on Terror. How people around had wondered why he was doing his infamous acts. Asking how he could possibly justify them. Most didn’t know, but after what she’d seen, there was one core mission she knew the Commander was trying to achieve.

He wanted to help people.

And sometimes doing that involved hurting others.

The Commander thrust his arm forward and sent the small blocks towards one of the dummies that had been set up. The metal cubes struck the dummy with enough force to push it over. Wincing, the Commander shook his arm. “That’s a little more difficult than it looks.”

“But it’s better than before,” Patricia encouraged, walking up to him. “Three at once isn’t bad.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, emanating some frustration and unhappiness. “Though I’m not sure I’m focusing on the right thing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Explain?”

“So far I’ve just been throwing things,” he said, gesturing to the blocks. “Why not just try to attack the target directly?”

She shrugged. “No reason why not, go for it. I only suggested that because I thought it would be good for training.”

“And it is,” he nodded. “But…I don’t think it’s the most effective form of attack. Manipulating targets directly is probably harder, but I’d imagine it’s more effective.”

Patricia got an idea then. She was little help with him developing his telekinetic abilities. The most she could do was teach him some mental defenses, and unsurprisingly, he’d been decent at shutting her out, lasting a full half-minute against her. Not _especially_ great, but in the middle of a fight, it would be more than enough.

“Practicing on dummies isn’t going to really help,” she told him, taking a few steps back. “Try it on me.”

He scratched his chin, no doubt appraising the risks of that method of training. But he was above most else, a practical man who knew she was perfectly capable of keeping herself safe. “I agree. Fair warning though, I might be a bit rough.”

Patricia smirked. “Don’t let Vahlen hear that. She might get the wrong idea.”

The Commander just raised an eyebrow, though she could sense his amusement. “How cute. Do you really think I would be stupid enough to risk the wrath of Vahlen _and_ Creed?”

Oh. Well, she wasn’t aware he knew about the two of them. “Point taken,” she scowled, wishing she’d held her tongue with that little jab.

“Get ready,” the Commander warned, as the air began distorting around him, rippling around his raising hand. The hand was cupped as if grabbing something, a physical motion she knew was to help focus the power. She was getting better at not relying on it, but it was _so_ much easier.

Nothing happened at first, but a few seconds later she felt the air _compress_ around her. Not _suffocate_. _Compress_. Like she was enveloped in an invisible blanket. Almost like being underwater, really. There was _something_ around her, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The blanket closed in and that changed.

She felt herself hoisted up a few feet, the compressed air around her enclosing her in an intangible prison. He was fully drawing upon his power now, sweat beading his face and looking up at her with purple-tinged irises. His hand closed into a fist and she gasped as the compression became inexplicably tighter.

Alright, maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. If he squeezed any harder she was worried that he would cause physical damage, which was _fine_ when he wanted to do it to an alien. She preferred her body _intact_ for the moment. The Commander swung his fist sharply to the right and she was suddenly tossed that way, freezing a few seconds later.

He opened his palm and the pressure vanished and she fell a few feet to the floor. There was a thin sheet of sweat over him now, and he was breathing a little heavier than before. “Not bad,” she complimented, walking up. “You weren’t kidding about being rough.”

“Sorry,” he apologized as he wiped his face with one of the nearby towels. “But I have a pretty good idea about how to practice now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want to do this again?”

“This was more to see if I _could_ do it,” he amended, taking a long drink from his water bottle. “Or if I lacked the coordination. No, Patricia, I won’t need you for it.”

She frowned. “Then who-ah.” Then it made sense. There was a whole plethora of test subjects in the labs that he could practice on without worrying about hurting them. Well, they _would_ be hurt, but they didn’t really serve any other purpose right now. Using them for honing psionic talents was a good a usage as any other, she supposed.

“Unfortunately it seems like my offensive talents need actual people to practice on,” he commented. “Telepaths, Defense and Offensive specialties don’t always need live people. Fortunate, I suppose, since I’d think we’d go through test subjects quickly.”

“Speaking of which,” Patricia recalled. “You might want to get some new ones. You and Vahlen are likely to go through them fairly quickly.”

“That will be taken care of,” the Commander assured her. “There isn’t a shortage of criminals.”

“No,” she agreed wistfully. “There certainly isn’t.”

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

It was surprisingly good to be back. Herman hadn’t realized how much he missed the Citadel until spending a few days away. Although after thinking on it some, he decided that it was more likely due to that the Citadel was connected to something. The largest and most important cause humanity had, or likely ever would face.

That made it a little more important.

But still, it felt good to be part of something productive again. He hadn’t heard anything from the Council, as expected, and Big Sky had happily offered him a flight back. To Herman’s utter lack of surprise, he actually perked up when Herman had mentioned that he’d quit the Council. He didn’t regret the decision, it needed to be done.

He did regret that it had come to this, however. He hadn’t know what had happened to the good men and women of the United Nations, but if there’d been any left they wouldn’t have acted like scared children, Commander or no Commander.

Herman wasn’t even sure they’d listen to what he’d said. His words had been the truth, as far as he could tell. But for some reason, it felt like it was yelling into an echo chamber where people only heard what they wanted to hear. He had the feeling that nothing was going to change. Ennor was going to believe that he was right and that Herman had been _corrupted_ or _turned_ by having the audacity to suggest that _maybe_ the Commander shouldn’t be the focus right now. And Tamara and her faction was going to feel emboldened, maybe going so far as to make use of their influence in more radical ways. Either way, the divide was only going to get worse and he had no desire to be a part of it anymore.

He wondered if something similar was what had pushed Peter to leave the United Nations. He wouldn’t be surprised anymore, and maybe he’d tell him now that they were both ex-UN officers, now serving under a damn war criminal. The irony was not lost on him.

Life sure had a sense of humor sometimes.

As luck would have it, he spotted Peter sitting alone at one of the tables in the Mess Hall. Well, he could use a friendly face right now. Food could wait. There were several groups of soldiers scattered around the room, quite a few he didn’t recognize at all, but none of them paid him any attention. Peter didn’t react as he sat down beside him, just staring ahead with a glass filled with ice in his hand.

“Welcome back,” he said robotically, finally turning to look at him. “I assume that your meeting with the Council went well?”

Herman smirked. “I quit.”

He blinked at that, some actual interest in his voice now. “ _You_ quit the United Nations?”

“For now,” Herman amended. “I’ll rejoin when they actually have some intelligent people in charge.”

Peter frowned. “Was it really that bad? I know that relations are strained for…good reason, apparently, but enough for you to quit?”

“Sadly, yes,” Herman sighed, looking ahead. “Long story, but it’s all centered around the Commander. And no, don’t ask me why, I still have to respect the label of _classified-“_

“Don’t bother,” Peter interrupted wearily. “I know who he is.”

Herman glanced over at him again, now connecting why his friend had seemed distracted and was here instead of working. “He told you, I assume?”

“Yep,” Peter stated tonelessly. “He did. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. It wasn’t like he really tried to hide anything. You knew, I assume?”

Herman nodded. “I did.”

“But you had orders,” Peter nodded. “Right. I understand. But still…” He sighed and swirled his drink again, the ice cubes clinking around the glass. “I’m still trying to think. Wrap my head around it. I’d wondered what the Commander was really like. A heartless killer. An emotionless sociopath. A genius manipulator. I almost wish he were one of those. Would sure make this easier.”

Herman rested his arms on the table. “Why is that?”

“Because despite everything I’ve…XCOM has done,” he answered slowly. “I always believed that he was only doing what he believed was needed. Because he thought he had no other choice. We didn’t always agree, but I liked him. He’s a true Commander, someone who you _want_ to follow. But now…”

Peter sighed again. “I don’t know. It’s difficult to picture him carrying out his crimes during the War on Terror, but at the same time, it’s because I _know_ how he would have done it. I can now picture clearly his justifications, tactics and reasoning for every action. And you know what? A part of it _makes sense_.” Peter set the glass gently on the table. “The Commander is a persuasive man. Insidious in a way. You don’t know what I’ve seen and approved because he convinced me that even if it was _wrong_ , it was _necessary._ ”

Herman was now realizing that he’d missed quite a lot of the internal dealings of XCOM, and knowingly or not, Peter was essentially admitting that XCOM wasn’t exactly holding itself to a high moral standard.

But then again. This _was_ the Commander.

“You don’t have to forget, you know,” Herman finally said. “Trust me, I felt the same coming here.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Forget what?”

“What he did,” Herman clarified. “You’re probably wondering how you can justify even being friendly with him now that you know what he did. You _want_ to like him, be friendly with him, but think even allowing that is _wrong_. Listen, it isn’t. Don’t forget what he did, but always move forward. Because he _is_ doing some good now, even if some of it is apparently…questionable. Don’t dismiss that just because of his past. You’ve known him longer than me, so do you think he really is the best hope against the invasion?”

Peter looked down at the steel table, wearily staring into the reflective metal. “I did. Still do, really. I know why the Council kept him alive. Because men like him are needed in times like this.”

“Right,” Herman nodded. “So work with him. You don’t have to be friends to be allies. The Council doesn’t understand this, and I don’t want you falling into the same trap. This is bigger than you or the Commander. Fighting or leaving isn’t going to help anyone, aside from maybe give you a clearer conscience.”

Peter was silent for a few minutes. “You’re right,” he finally said. “Whether or not I work for the Commander, my primary mission is to defend humanity. I can’t ignore that now.”

“No, you can’t,” Herman smiled. “So snap out of it and get to work. Make it clear to the Commander where you stand, and he’ll accept that. In the meantime, you probably need a drink. I think you deserve one right now.”

Peter gave him a weary smile. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that. Just a few shots. It’s been too long since we’ve talked anyway.”

“That it has,” Herman chuckled. “So before I go get something, anything else happen besides the Commander?”

Peter thought for a moment. “Well, I’m a psion now.”

Herman stopped chuckled. “Are you now?” He asked slowly. “Well then, I see I’ve missed a lot.”

“Go get the drink,” Peter chided. “I’ll tell you the whole boring story if you’re really that interested.”

Herman gave him a mock salute. “On it, General.” Standing up, he went off to get the drinks, looking forward to hopefully getting caught up on all the recent events happening here.

Well, at least the ones Peter could tell him. The rest he might have to figure out on his own.

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

Mission Control was moderately busy as he walked in. Relatively quiet too, and no one really noticed or acknowledged him as he walked in. The hologlobe still spun slowly on its axis, pinpoints of red dotting the world, signs of alien activity. Countries were highlighted in green indicating satellite coverage, for what good that did.

The Commander didn’t see Bradford, but knew Zhang had called him down for something a short time ago, leaving Jackson in charge for the moment. He stopped walking for a moment, then finally located her standing along the far wall, observing several screens with various news stations broadcasting various stories about the world and invasion.

Just another day in the media.

But he had an ulterior motive beyond simply checking in. Time to see how Jackson was handling all of this. He walked up to her, hoping he was noticeable enough that she wouldn’t be surprised. It seemed he was as he saw her glance out of the corner of her eye and slightly scoot to the left to let him stand beside her.

“Anything new?” He asked, keeping his voice low in the subdued atmosphere of Mission Control.

She shook her head. “Not anything worth noting. All the American stations are trying to puzzle out the President’s bill and the rest are talking about Israel, China, the Koreas, and Brazil of course. But little of substance.” He detected a hardness to her tone as she finished, but what he felt from her was confusion.

He let the silence last for a few minutes, feeling her growing more uncomfortable. “Jackson, if you have something to say, just say it,” he finally said. “I promise I won’t take offense.”

“Probably not,” she agreed quietly, brushing a non-existent strand of hair back unconsciously. After a few more seconds she finally spoke. “How much of it was true?”

He glanced down at the analyst biting her lip and staring straight into the screens. “Of what was true?”

Perhaps a rhetorical question, but she answered seriously. “What you did. How many you killed. Medina. Mecca. How much of it was true?”

He looked at the screens filled with speculation pundits. “Most of it was true,” he finally admitted. “You can ask specifics if you want, but very little of what I did was exaggerated. Why make stuff up when the truth is much more damning. I never hid it.”

“Why?” She asked, finally looking up at him. “Was it really worth everything you did? Did you ever think there could have been another way?”

He sighed. “Of course I wanted it to be another way. I didn’t take pleasure in what I did, but as I said earlier, it was _necessary_ ,” he scratched his head as he continued. “The CIA had been monitoring the rise of the Caliphate and tasked me for finding a solution. So I tried, within the regular guidelines of course, I tried for months. I spent nights at a time trying to find _some_ kind of solution that would ensure a Caliphate never rose again.”

“But I guess you couldn’t find one,” she guessed.

“Not one that would guarantee a Caliphate would never rise again,” the Commander confirmed. “How do you defeat a fanatic? Or a religious ideology? Through reason, debate and logic?” He snorted. “No, you have to appeal to their base emotions. Understand how they _think_ what would _work_ against them.”

“And you turned their greatest tool against them,” Jackson noted. “Fear.”

“No,” the Commander corrected. “ _Terror_. They had to not simply _fear_ that we may pose a threat, but had to be _terrified_ of the very _possibility_ that what we did could happen to them. What happens when you have nothing to hide behind? What do you do when your enemy has no concern for hostages? How are you supposed to feel when you watch your family executed and friends crucified?”

The Commander paused, reflecting. “Was what I ordered terrible? Inhumane? Of course it was. But it _worked_. People who might have been indoctrinated decided otherwise when they watched others be killed. Muslim civilians in the Middle East became more willing to turn over Caliphate intel because they were _terrified_ they would be targeted next. Leaders thought twice about trying to take advantage of the situation once they saw Saudi Arabia be torched and several world leaders killed.”

He took a breath. “That was the first step. A method that broke the weak-willed, the psychopaths and criminals who’d only joined to have some fun. The _unbelievers,_ I’d say. But the ones who truly believed, they were harder. They had to be more than terrified, they had to have their will _broken_. Their _beliefs_ exposed for the frauds they were. They had to be shown over and over that their god didn’t come down, didn’t intervene as their sacred cities, tombs and prophets were destroyed, desecrated or executed.”

“I guess that explains Mecca and Medina,” Jackson said neutrally, not seeming to judge him quite yet anyway.

“I’ve read the Quran,” the Commander continued. “An interesting read, to say the least. But it wasn’t idle curiosity. What they believe about the end of the world was particularly interesting, and something I wanted to exploit. How much I could actually use was limited, as much of it was impossible or too much trouble to interpret. But there were some named events that I felt could at the very least unnerve the larger Islamic population. And when it happened, they would see that their god didn’t come and save them. An ideal solution, honestly.”

 Despite herself, Jackson seemed somewhat curious. “So what exactly did _that_ entail?”

“It was more complicated than you might think,” the Commander said. “The Quran is unusually detailed about certain events that “will” happen. People too. I think that I accidentally built myself up as their anti-christ because of what I was doing, probably because I was mostly an ethereal threat, known only by reputation.”

“You didn’t exactly portray yourself as a false god though,” Jackson noted. “I thought that was what the anti-christ was.”

The Commander’s lips curled up. “The thing with religion is that it is steeped in symbolism and interpretation. Who’s to say that “leading people astray” doesn’t mean terrifying the populace into turning against them? I highly doubt that the Islamic scholars were fooled by my supposed anti-christ act, but the populace? Yes, they were scared and waiting for Jesus to come down and save them. A hope I dispelled when I ordered the Caliphate Massacre.”

“I assume the destruction of Mecca was one such end-times event?” Jackson guessed.

“Technically it says that Mecca was “attacked”,” the Commander amended. “But yes and to me it was more of a symbol than anything else. So I took it one step further and removed it from the face of the Earth. Of course, this was at the end of the war when even the faithful were terrified about what would happen to them. They were afraid, wounded and _hopeless_. The desecration of Muhammad was already a terrible blow to morale, but the destruction of their holiest city was the final breaking point that made the Caliph surrender.”

“And you still executed them anyway,” Jackson finished slowly.

“You kill the ideology at the source,” the Commander stated. “I systematically tore everything the Caliph tried to build and at the end, forced him to admit it was a lie before I executed him. People have said that simply killing ideological leaders only leads to martyrs, and to an extent that’s true. But destroy everything they believe in first? That takes the threat of that away.”

He looked Jackson in the eyes. “Wrong the methods may be, but another Caliphate will never rise again. You can never truly kill a religion, but you can reduce it to nothing, and I guarantee that within a half-century, Islam will be regarded as a myth told to scare children.”

“All because of you.”

“I made the decision,” he nodded. “But I was not alone. Perhaps not a feat I should be proud of, but one I don’t regret achieving.”

Jackson looked away, blankly into the screens. “I see. Context does make some sense in this case.”

“It usually does,” the Commander agreed. “I don’t expect you to agree, but you wanted to know why? There you go.”

“Yes,” she said absentmindedly. “Thank you for telling me that, Commander. Even if I’ll not completely condone it…I understand.”

The Commander inclined his head. “That’s all I ask.”

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “Frankly though, I think we should keep focusing on the new threat against the world. The Caliphate is dead and gone, the Ethereals are still coming. No point getting upset over the past.”

“Well said,” the Commander nodded. “Time to focus on the future. Our survival is a bit more important.”

“That it is,” Jackson agreed softly, scratching her chin. “That it is.”

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

The good news was that both Van Doorn and Bradford seemed to be fine being around him again. But both of them, especially Van Doorn felt especially distant. Cold. They were willing to work with him, but not more beyond that. Which was fine for him, dealing with the aliens was more important.

But now they needed to get to business which was what Zhang had asked them here for.

“We received a new message presumably from the Zararch to Nartha,” Zhang stated, handing him a piece of paper with a combination of alien symbols on it. “However, unlike the others, we couldn’t translate it into something legible. It’s gibberish.”

Bradford frowned, one hand scratching his chin. “Are you certain the decryption was done correctly?”

Zhang almost glared at him for that. “Yes, Central. Yes, I’m sure the decryption was done correctly, that _is my job_.”

Bradford winced at that. “Just making sure.”

“So why the change?” Van Doorn finally asked, his tone deliberately neutral.

“Two possible reasons I can see,” Zhang continued. “One, this was planned. Perhaps a system where Zararch agents rotate decryption keys every few weeks or months.”

“Wouldn’t he have told you about that, then?” The Commander asked.

Zhang nodded. “Yes,” he said flatly. “Which is why the other explanation is likely. They suspect he is compromised and don’t want anyone else reading their orders.” Zhang nodded at the piece of paper. “I _do_ think that this _does_ mean something to Nartha, but won’t be something we can easily figure out on our own.”

“Then we show it to him and see,” Bradford suggested with a shrug. “Problem solved.”

“Which we will do,” the Commander nodded. “But before we do so, I think we need to discuss what to do with him. The Zararch will learn he’s compromised eventually, so we should do something before he loses all potential value.”

Van Doorn crossed his arms. “You have an idea.” It wasn’t a question.

The Commander nodded. “A very risky one, but short of executing him, probably our best one. He said that there were other Vitakara who might be willing to rebel against the Ethereals, given sufficient motivation and opportunity. That is an opportunity that we shouldn’t waste.”

“A double agent,” Zhang pursed his lips. “Assuming he is reliable, that would be a good idea.”

“But that would involve letting him go,” Bradford pointed out. “And if we do…there’s nothing stopping him from giving everything he has on us to the Ethereals.”

The Commander sighed. “I know. But what exactly could he give to them that he hasn’t already? Our names? Our soldiers? He doesn’t know our plans or the extent of our tech. He doesn’t know about ADVENT. Even if he _does_ betray us, there is very little damage he could do that he hasn’t done already.”

Bradford scratched his cheek. “You do raise a good point. But if he’s a double agent, I assume he would have a way to contact us. He could potentially be used to feed bad intel similar to what we’re doing now.”

“That is something we’d have to consider,” the Commander agreed. “However, there is a way we could ensure that, at least going in, that Nartha wouldn’t betray us willingly.”

“Patricia,” Van Doorn finished flatly.

“Exactly,” the Commander confirmed. “I would have preferred for the Manchurian Program to be utilized here, but as that isn’t finalized yet, psionics would have to suffice.”

“So what happens if an Ethereal suddenly takes an interest?” Zhang interjected. “He cannot defend against that.”

The Commander shook his head. “No. He couldn’t. But that would be one of the risks. The question I have is if this should actually be considered, or if you feel there are better alternatives?”

All of them were silent for a few minutes. “As you said,” Van Doorn answered dejectedly. “Short of killing him, this is probably the best solution. Provided he agrees to it at all.”

“His cooperation won’t be an issue,” the Commander dismissed. “He genuinely does seem to want to help, and alien or no, that isn’t something I’ll turn down. Zhang and I will go speak to him soon and bring this up. If he’s willing we’ll begin working out specifics, but for now it isn’t decided. Sound good?”

Bradford nodded. “Yes, Commander.”

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good. Is there anything else we should discuss?”

“Here is Abby’s report,” Zhang said, handing him his tablet. “The implications are unpleasant, to put it lightly.”

The Commander pursed his lips. He had been appraised of the newest development and reading the report itself didn’t make things much better. “I find this difficult to believe, even for the Council.”

“It seems unlike them,” Van Doorn muttered. “Even if they are genuinely afraid of you, they typically don’t send out kill squads, especially against friendly forces.”

“Unless of course we were infringing on a UN operations,” Bradford pointed out slowly. “Or they were getting close to something the UN didn’t want found.”

“Both of which are possible,” the Commander said grimly, setting the tablet down. “Unfortunately the only people who knew for certain are dead, and we only have some vague suggestions as to how this was carried out. From what agent Shira implied, this wasn’t a simple attack. They were approached as friendly and betrayed later.”

“I think that the big question is if they actually _are_ UN or not,” Van Doorn said slowly. “How exactly do we know that these aren’t EXALT agents, especially given the proximity to Solaris Industries?”

“We don’t,” Zhang stated flatly. “Under most circumstances, I would be in agreement with you, General. But there are several things that don’t add up, namely why EXALT would risk breaking our truce in the first place.”

“They might not have known they were XCOM?” Bradford suggested.

Zhang snorted. “Unlikely. But I suppose that is a possibility. Aside from that, the two bodies were identified as MI6 and NATO, and are supposedly in _very_ different locations. Even if you dismiss the MI6 agent, the NATO operative adds validity to the theory that the Council is involved in some capacity.”

“Not to mention agents Shira and Gertrude are reliable and honest when it comes to this,” the Commander reminded them. “They wouldn’t make accusations like this if they weren’t completely sure.”

“No,” Van Doorn agreed. “But it is also possible they are wrong.”

“That it is,” the Commander said. “I suppose I could have Patricia examine Abby’s memories to be sure, but ultimately, this doesn’t change much. We don’t have enough information to act, and the Council and United Nations will not be a problem much longer.”

“True,” Bradford sighed. “Are there any other new pieces of information?”

“Some topics regarding ADVENT,” Zhang said. “Thanks to the Russians, Israeli and North Korean Cooperation, they appear to have developed a variant of our gauss weapons without relying heavily on alien metals.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow at that as he pulled up the report on his tablet and began reading. “Excellent news,” he said as he scrolled through. “Is it the same level as ours?”

“Not from what I’ve seen,” Zhang shook his head. “Their variant, while more powerful than conventional weapons, isn’t quite as strong as ours. Though the trade-off is worth it, especially when armies need to be enhanced.”

“On the subject of ADVENT,” Bradford interjected. “Several of the member nations have made inquiries into the individual who will be the Chancellor.”

“Still to be determined,” the Commander said. “If they must know, tell them I have narrowed the number down to three candidates and will decide one soon. It will be resolved before ADVENT goes public.”

“Some of them aren’t going to like that,” Bradford warned.

The Commander shrugged. “Probably not. But they can ask me themselves, since I think a preliminary meeting with the soon-to-be ADVENT representatives is in order.”

“I think they won’t object to that,” Van Doorn nodded. “A good move, and keeps everyone on the same page.”

“Speaking of that,” Zhang interjected. “I believe that President Treduant has just revealed her secret military project. Take a look at this.” The Commander took his tablet and raised an eyebrow as he looked at the designs for what appeared to be a kind of humanoid, autonomous robot.

“I appears she took some inspiration from our MEC troopers,” he said, handing the tablet back to Zhang. “But an army of those would definitely help.”

“She specifically requested North Korean and Russian assistance with production,” Zhang confirmed. “She’s definitely looking to take advantage of ADVENT production capabilities.”

“Smart woman,” Van Doorn said. “Let’s hope that everything keeps going this smoothly.”

The Commander could bet that all of them agreed with that. Unfortunately, he’d learned that the chances of everything going right were essentially impossible.

Although there was a first time for everything.

***

 

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

At least he wasn’t completely blind to the outside world anymore. While Shun didn’t know the inner workings of the Commander’s Internal Council, there were other aspects she was able to tell him about in between him telling about his species.

The Ethereals were being quiet. The only recent contact had been a scout that had been promptly shut down and raided, with no casualties a day or so ago. Which was extremely concerning to him. That meant that they were preparing for something. No more probing attacks or abductions could only mean that they’d gotten what they’d wanted and were just waiting for…something.

If an invasion was coming, this Ethereal would probably wait for whoever the commanding Ethereal was to approve the invasion of Earth. Even if the lowest Ethereal still outranked everyone else, he knew that had their own command structure, though how it worked he could only speculate. But if that was the case, it also indicated that Earth was valuable enough for them to warrant several additional steps.

Of course, they could just be dealing with issues beyond Earth. Maybe they’d found another species and were dealing with that. Or there was another, more advanced species that had made contact. He knew they existed, though the Zar’Chon had been tight-lipped on specifics, but had insinuated that Zararch agents were watching them.

He did wonder how the Ethereal would deal with a civilization as advanced as them. Would they try to negotiate? Sabotage? Go directly to war? It largely depended on if they were psionically capable or not. If they were, it might give the Ethereals pause. If not…well, they were essentially doomed. He shook his head. No point in thinking about that. If events ever progressed to that stage, then the chances of him still being alive were slim at best.

Nartha perked up as he heard the door opening. Shun had only been here a couple of days ago, so he hadn’t expected her for some time. As it turned out, it was _not_ Shun walking through the door, but the Commander and Zhang.

He stood to face them. Well, time to finally learn what they’d decided to do with him. “Hello, Commander,” he nodded towards Zhang. “Director.”

The Commander’s expression was unreadable, though Nartha knew he was likely sensing his emotions, or trying to at least. He handed him a piece of paper. “Do you know what this is?”

Nartha looked down at the paper and went cold. The specific arrangement of symbols, binary and length only indicated a very specific kind of code. He couldn’t decrypt the specifics, but that header was only used in one instance. “It’s a recall command,” he answered, looking up. “Orders to return to a designated point.”

They both immediately understood the implications. “Then they’re going to attack?”

“That,” Nartha nodded. “Or they suspect I’ve been compromised and they want to see what I’ll do.”

“So this might not mean an attack is coming,” the Commander said slowly.

Nartha thought carefully before answering. “Technically, no. It might mean they just want to pull me out. But realistically, that means they are planning a major strike.”

“We decrypted the message as best we could,” Zhang said. “But this was the best we could do. Is there another method you neglected to tell us?”

The threat was very clear, but unfortunately, Nartha had a good answer for that. “This likely means they’re worried I’ve been compromised, so they modified the key enough so that I could make out the general order, but not specific places and details.”

“But you already know where to go,” the Commander finished. “Which makes this a safe message to send that you’ll understand.”

“Essentially.”

“How long do you have?” Zhang asked, crossing his arms. “Before they either assume you failed or are compromised?”

“From XCOM?” Nartha paused. “A week at least. They know I can’t just walk out of here.”

Both of them exchanged a look. “Good. That gives us time to decide what to do about you. We received the message not that long ago, which leaves us plenty of time to act.”

“Are you preparing for an attack?” Nartha asked.

“We’ve done what we can,” the Commander said evenly. “Though short of activating the Atlas Protocol, we can do little more than what’s already been happening. But we’re very aware of the possibility.”

“So what about me?” Nartha asked. “I doubt you intend to keep me in this cell forever.”

“I was hoping I could get some more assurance, but we’re out of time,” the Commander said. “You said that there are Vitakara who would rebel if given the chance?”

He gave a single nod. “Yes, I did.”

The Commander focused his yellow-rimmed eyes on him. “Would it be possible to locate them?”

Ah, he knew where the Commander was going. “If you’re asking what I’d be able to do….yes, it would be possible. But it wouldn’t be fast, and you likely wouldn’t notice any impact. Not to mention if anyone discovers talk of this kind…the Ethereals would put a definitive stop to it.”

“But it could be done.” The Commander repeated.

Nartha nodded. “Yes.”

Both humans appraised him for a few seconds. “Is that what you want?” Nartha asked. “For me to be a double agent to make trouble for the Ethereals at home?”

“Ideally,” the Commander stated neutrally. “The issue isn’t the plan. It’s that I don’t believe you’re completely reliable.”

Which did make sense. The Commander had no control over him if he sent him away, which meant he could tell everything to the Ethereals with no fear of immediate reprisal. If he knew at all, since he didn’t believe the Commander had ears within the Zararch. “I can only give you my word,” Nartha shrugged. “Think about if that’s worth anything. But keep in mind that we wouldn’t be having this conversation if not for me.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “I’ve taken that into account, Nartha, and it is the only reason I’m even considering this. But you know that, regardless of your motives or decisions, it won’t matter if they decide to debrief you with an Ethereal present. You won’t be able to lie under that.”

Nartha nodded. “That is a risk. But an Ethereal is unlikely. The Zar’Chon is a more likely possibility, though he’ll be hard to convince unless I have some kind of proof of what you’re ‘planning,’”

“Yes, you will,” the Commander nodded. “And what we would presumably leak to the Ethereals is still being discussed. But it will be enough to show you’ve done your job.”

“Provided we do allow this.” Zhang amended.

Nartha met his suspicious glare quietly. “Of course, Director.”

“We might not be able to predict what will happen when you return,” the Commander continued. “But there is a way we can determine your reliability.”

“Patricia,” Nartha said.

He nodded. “Correct. And not a simple sensing of emotions. A full mental interrogation, as much as she deems appropriate.”

His lips twitched. It was reasonable, but he disliked the idea immensely. However, he had a feeling that the Commander was going to require this if he planned to use him as a double agent. He was in agreement with the idea, and he was glad the Commander had the idea to use him in the most logical way. Still, this kind of intrusive requirement was disconcerting, no matter how much he could understand it.

“I don’t like it,” he stated, likely to the surprise of neither of them. “But I don’t really think I have much of a choice if I want to convince you. Do it if you feel it’s necessary.”

The Commander nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. It will be done within a couple days while we work out specifics of what we want you to do.”

The door suddenly swung open and Patricia stormed up to the Commander, then muttered something into his ear without sparing a glance at him. The Commander’s face went blank, his lips pursing as he nodded once. “We need to go,” he stated immediately. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Based on that abrupt exit, Nartha suspected that something important had just happened.

Unfortunately, he had an idea of what that could be.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

He was almost glad that they’d shot down that scout, since that had been sort of a unifying moment for all of them, when they realized that even if there were major disagreements between them, they could still work together to focus on what really mattered: Stopping the Ethereals. Even Shen had come to terms with it, even if he felt there were still some things they needed to discuss

So it had been an _eventful_ week, but a quiet one alien-wise.

He suspected that was about to change in light of the reason he was being called up.

Flanked by Patricia and Zhang, they strode into the Situation Room where Bradford, Jackson and Van Doorn were standing around the holotable. “Status update!” The Commander demanded. “What’s going on?”

“A massive UFO was just detected,” Bradford explained, pointing to the holotable which was displaying what he assumed was the UFO. It looked similar to one of their transports, though he suspected that it wasn’t carrying abducted civilians this time.

“Define _massive_ ,” Patricia demanded, looking at the hologram.

“About the size of the Dreadnought,” Bradford clarified, voice unable to hide the worry he clearly felt. “But this one seems designed to be able to land. It’s similar to the supply barges we’ve seen and raided, except that I’m afraid that this is a troop transport.”

“And why do you assume that?” Zhang asked.

“Because it’s heading for the Citadel,” Van Doorn said slowly as he looked at the hologram unblinkingly. “Estimated time of arrival is three hours.”

The Commander felt a calmness descend around him. So it was happening. “Then they’ve found us. We knew it was only a matter of time.”

“That’s not the only ship approaching,” Jackson added, switching the hologram. “It’s being accompanied by three UFOs. Two Raider-class and another design we’ve only seen once.”

“Where?” Patricia asked.

“New York,” Jackson answered quietly. “Specifically, the one the Ethereal flew off in.”

All of them exchanged a look. “It looks like they’re serious about finishing us off,” the Commander noted, fixating on the holograms. “Showtime, then. We’ve prepared for this eventuality. Time to put it into practice.”

He nodded towards Bradford. “Open base-wide intercom.”

Bradford nodded solemnly. “Yes, Commander.”

He pressed several buttons on the holotable and nodded once it was ready. The Commander stepped forward, took a breath and recited the words he’d hoped to never have needed. “Attention all XCOM personnel, this is the Commander. The Citadel has been compromised and hostile alien forces are en-route to our location. Initiate the Atlas Protocol.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Atlas Protocol

OVERVIEW: In the event that the Citadel is, or is assumed to be compromised by a hostile force, the Atlas Protocol will be activated to ensure an organized defense and response to ensure the survival of XCOM.

 _Note 1:_ Please note that the activation is not exclusive specifically to the Citadel. The Atlas Protocol is the standard defense protocols assumed by all locations under XCOM control.

1\. ACTIVATION: The Atlas Protocol can only be activated under the following circumstances:

A. There is confirmation from either Central Officer John Bradford, Intelligence Director Shaojie Zhang, Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn or Psion Patricia Trask of an impending attack.

B. The impending attack is confirmed by both XCOM Intelligence and XCOM Analysis and Communications.

C. Activation of the Atlas Protocol has the approval of both Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn, and Psion Patricia Trask.

D. The Atlas Protocol shall be officially activated by only the Commander of XCOM.

2\. INITIALIZATION: Upon activation of the Atlas Protocol, each member of the Internal Council shall assume control of their respective divisions and begin the protocols specific to their division (Outlined below). Each respective head shall attempt to keep in contact with the Commander throughout the defense.

3\. TERMINATION: The Atlas Protocol will only be terminated by the Commander of XCOM when it is determined that there is no current threat posed to the Citadel or XCOM personnel.

 _Notice 1:_ In the event that the Commander of XCOM is incapacitated or dead, Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 2:_ In the event that Peter Van Doorn is incapacitated or dead, Psion Patricia Trask has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 3:_ In the event that Patricia Trask is incapacitated or dead, Intelligence Director Shaojie Zhang has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 4:_ In the event that Shaojie Zhang is incapacitated or dead, Central Officer John Bradford has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 5:_ In the event that John Bradford is incapacitated or dead, Chief Analyst Ariel Jackson has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 6:_ In the event that Ariel Jackson is incapacitated or dead, Head of XCOM Research and Development Moira Vahlen has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 7:_ In the event that Moira Vahlen is incapacitated or dead, Head of XCOM Engineering Raymond Shen has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

 _Notice 8:_ In the event that the entire command structure of XCOM is incapacitated or dead, the soldier with the highest rank and seniority will take command and has authorization to order the termination of the Atlas Protocol.

4\. INITIALIZATION OF THE HEPHAESTUS CONTINGENCY: Upon termination of the Atlas Protocol, the Hephaestus Contingency will immediately go into effect once the Citadel has been fully locked down and cleared of all hostile forces. (SUB-SECTION RESTRICTED TO INTERNAL COUNCIL)

SECTION 1: XCOM ANALYSIS AND COMMUNICATIONS (RESTRICTED TO XCOM ANALYSIS AND COMMUNICATIONS)

WRITTEN BY: Central Officer John Bradford

APPROVED BY:

-1. The Commander of XCOM

-2. Chief Analyst Ariel Jackson

-3. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

Upon the publishing of this document, the following shall become standard practice within this division:

-1. BACKUP OF ALL ESSENTIAL FILES: All files and documents critical to the maintenance, upkeep and operation of XCOM Analysis and Communications shall be stored on an off-site location with an update cycle of no more than twenty-four hours.

-2. TRAINING OF MILITARY EQUIPMENT FOR NON-COMBAT PERSONNEL: All non-combat personnel within XCOM Analysis and Communications shall receive training in the handling, usage and safety of current XCOM military weaponry and armor. Those with previous or current military service or training are exempt.

-3. CONSISTENT AERIAL MONITORING: At all times the airspace around the United States of America shall be continuously monitored for signs of alien activity and/or UFO movements.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. PREPARATION: All personnel within XCOM Analysis and Communications will arm themselves with weapons and armor from the local Analysis and Communications armory.

-2. PURGING OF DATA: All data on current and former XCOM operations and personnel will be purged with no form of recovery.

-3. DISTRESS SIGNAL: Upon authorization from Central Officer John Bradford, the distress signal will be sent out to the Council, as well as countries allied with XCOM.

-4. PLACEMENT OF FORCES: As Mission Control has been identified as a weakness of the Citadel, it will be utilized as a choke point, and once reinforcements from XCOM's Armed Forces arrive, they will take forward positions, and all XCOM Analysis and Communications Personnel are ordered to take supporting positions to assist the soldiers.

-5. CONTINGENCY: In the event that Mission Control cannot be held, all surviving personnel are ordered to retreat towards the Engineering Bay or the Research Labs.

SECTION 2: XCOM RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (RESTRICTED TO XCOM RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT)

WRITTEN BY: Head of XCOM Research and Development Moira Vahlen

APPROVED BY:

-1. The Commander of XCOM

-2. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

-3. Head of XCOM Engineering Raymond Shen

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

-1. BACKUP OF ALL ESSENTIAL FILES: All files and documents critical to the maintenance, upkeep and operation of XCOM research and Development shall be stored on an off-site location with an update cycle of no more than twelve hours.

-2. TRAINING OF MILITARY EQUIPMENT FOR NON-COMBAT PERSONNEL: All non-combat personnel within XCOM Research and Development shall receive training in the handling, usage and safety of current XCOM military weaponry and armor. Those with previous or current military service or training are exempt.

-3. TRAINING OF UTILIZATION OF CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL ELEMENTS FOR COMBAT: All personnel within XCOM Research and Development will receive instruction and training about the application of chemical and biological agents for the purposes of self-defense or prolonged combat.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. PREPARATION: All personnel within XCOM Research and Development will arm themselves with weapons and armor from the local Research and Development armory, as well as biological and chemical weapons from the Labs themselves.

-2. PURGING OF RESEARCH: All current and former research shall be purged with no method of recovery

-3. EXECUTION OF TEST SUBJECTS: All test subjects (Human and alien) are to be immediately terminated with the exception of weaponized chryssalids.

-4. DEPLOYMENT OF SECTOID CONTAGION: Upon first contact with alien forces, the completed Sectoid Contagion will be deployed utilizing the ventilation system.

-5. DEPLOYMENT OF WEAPONIZED CHRYSSALIDS: Upon authorization from Moira Vahlen, the weaponized chryssalids will be deployed against hostile forces, under the direction of the ranking psionic operative.

-6. INITIAL DEFENSE: XCOM Research and Development Personnel shall take positions within the Labs until orders are received from the Commander to assist other lines of defense. Until those orders are given, the Labs shall be fortified and defended.

SECTION 3: XCOM ENGINEERING (RESTRICTED TO XCOM ENGINEERING)

WRITTEN BY: Head of XCOM Engineering Raymond Shen

APPROVED BY:

-1. The Commander of XCOM

-2. Head of XCOM Research and Development Moira Vahlen

-3. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

-1. BACKUP OF ALL ESSENTIAL FILES: All files and documents critical to the maintenance, upkeep and operation of XCOM Engineering shall be stored on an off-site location with an update cycle of no more than eighteen hours.

-2. TRAINING OF MILITARY EQUIPMENT FOR NON-COMBAT PERSONNEL: All non-combat personnel within XCOM Engineering shall receive training in the handling, usage and safety of current XCOM military weaponry and armor. Those with previous or current military service or training are exempt.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. PREPARATION: All personnel within XCOM Engineering will arm themselves with weapons and armor from the local Engineering armory or Bay.

-2. PURGING OF ENGINEERING DATA: All data on current and former XCOM engineering projects will be purged with no form of recovery.

-3. SABOTAGE OF EQUIPMENT: All equipment relating to the construction and manufacturing of XCOM equipment is to be surgically sabotaged to prevent usage by hostile forces.

-4. CONTROL OF POWER: Under orders from the Commander, all power is to be strictly controlled by XCOM Engineering to be shut off or turned on in various locations within the Citadel.

-5. INITIAL DEFENSE: All XCOM Engineering personnel shall take positions within the Engineering Bay until receiving orders from the Commander to assist other XCOM personnel. Note that some personnel will remain behind regardless to continuously monitor power to the Citadel.

SECTION 4: XCOM INTELLIGENCE (RESTRICTED TO XCOM INTELLIGENCE)

WRITTEN BY: Intelligence Director Shaojie Zhang

APPROVED BY:

-1. The Commander of XCOM

-2. Central Officer John Bradford

-3. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

-1. BACKUP OF ALL ESSENTIAL FILES: All files and documents critical to the maintenance, upkeep and operation of XCOM Intelligence shall be stored on an off-site location with an update cycle of no more than twelve hours.

-2. TRAINING OF MILITARY EQUIPMENT FOR NON-COMBAT PERSONNEL: All non-combat personnel within XCOM Intelligence shall receive training in the handling, usage and safety of current XCOM military weaponry and armor. Those with previous or current military service or training are exempt.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. PREPARATION: All personnel within XCOM Intelligence will arm themselves with weapons and armor from the local XCOM Intelligence armory.

-2. PURGING OF INTELLIGENCE DATA: All data on current or former intelligence operations will be purged with no form of recovery.

-3. CODE RED SIGNAL: As per protocol, the Code Red will be sent to currently deployed XCOM Intelligence agents to warn them that the Citadel is currently under attack and to keep a low profile until the all-clear signal is sent.

-4. DEPLOYMENT: Under the direction of Intelligence Director Shaojie Zhang, all XCOM Intelligence agents will be deployed to various parts of the Citadel to assist in the defense of the base.

-5. SPECIFIC SUPPORT: All XCOM Intelligence agents will focus on the targeting and elimination or priority targets. Upon no specification of a priority target, they will focus on the debilitation and wounding of highly mobile hostile forces.

SECTION 5: XCOM ARMED FORCES

WRITTEN BY: The Commander of XCOM

APPROVED BY:

-1. Psion Patricia Trask

-2. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

-3. Central Officer John Bradford

1\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. PREPARATION: All XCOM Soldiers will arm themselves with weapons and armor from the armory.

-2. DESIGNATION OF WEAPONRY: As the current weapons stores are not sufficient to equip every soldiers with the latest weaponry, it will be determined on rank and seniority, with veteran soldiers receiving Pulse weaponry and Aegis armor, and the remaining soldiers will equip Gauss and laser weaponry and Phalanx armor.

-3. DEPLOYMENT: XCOM soldiers will be deployed to three locations within the Citadel (See Atlas Protocol Deployment list for specific soldier locations) that have been identified as weak point. The Hangar, Mission Control and Supply Halls. The soldiers deployed will defend those locations until a retreat is ordered or they receive orders from the Commander.

SUBSECTION 5.1: MEC SOLDIERS

WRITTEN BY: The Commander of XCOM

APPROVED BY:

-1. Psion Patricia Trask

-2. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

-1. CONSISTENT COMBAT PREPARATION: All MEC suits are to be kept and maintained in a state suitable for combat at all times.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. DEPLOYMENT: As the number of MEC pilots is limited, they shall be dispersed in an even fashion, with two being sent to Mission Control and the Hangar, while one will be sent to the Supply Halls (See Atlas Protocol Deployment for specific soldier deployments)

SUBSECTION 5.2: PSIONIC SOLDIERS

WRITTEN BY: Psion Patricia Trask

APPROVED BY:

-1. The Commander of XCOM

-2. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn

1\. PRE-INITIALIZATION DIRECTIVES

-1. CONSISTENT AWARENESS: All XCOM psions must continuously be aware of nearby or friendly psions, as well as sensing for hostile psionic enemies or Vitakarian infiltrators.

2\. ACTIVATION PROTOCOLS

-1. HOSTILE PSIONIC ATTACKS: Upon initialization of the Atlas Protocol, all XCOM psions are to focus on the mental defense of Citadel personnel, specifically on non-military personnel, to defend and prevent psionic debilitation or mind control.

-2. DEPLOYMENT: Under the direction of Psion Patricia Trask, all XCOM psions will be deployed to assist in various locations within the Citadel.

-3. CONTINGENCY: ETHEREAL: In the event that an Ethereal is confirmed to be within the vicinity, all XCOM psions will converge on its location and focus on eliminating it from the battle.

INTERNAL COUNCIL DEPLOYMENTS: The deployment of the members of the Internal Council is as follows:

1\. The Commander of XCOM: Hangar

2\. Head of XCOM Research and Development Moira Vahlen: Research Labs

3\. Head of XCOM Engineering Raymond Shen: Engineering Bay

4\. Tactical Advisor Peter Van Doorn: Mission Control

5\. Central Officer John Bradford: Mission Control

6\. Chief Analyst Ariel Jackson: Mission Control

7\. Intelligence Director Shaojie Zhang: Supply Halls

8\. Psion Patricia Trask: Supply Halls

GLOBAL PRIORITIES: The following are universal priorities for all XCOM personnel in the event of the activation of the Atlas Protocol.

1\. DO NOT REPOSITION WITHOUT ORDERS: Unless a retreat is ordered or orders are received from the Commander, XCOM personnel should not leave their designated position no matter what. This includes advancing or taking ground within or outside the Citadel.

2\. PROTECT XCOM PSIONS: All efforts should be made to ensure that XCOM psions are protected from unnecessary danger, as the loss of a psionic operative would be catastrophic in the event of a hostile psionic opponent.

3\. PRIORITY TARGETS: In the event that one of the following targets appears on the battlefield, all XCOM personnel are to target it and eliminate it immediately.

-1. Ethereal

-2. Sectoid Hive Commander

-3. Cyberdisk

-4. Muton Elite


	42. The Battle of the Citadel

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

“Status!” The Commander demanded, striding into the room, helmet tucked under his arm as he approached a similarly armored Van Doorn, Patricia and Bradford. Shen and Vahlen were executing their own portions of the Atlas Protocol, Jackson was preparing the defenders at Mission Control, and Zhang was preparing to deploy his agents throughout the Citadel.

Patricia wore her new Aegis armor, now sporting her usual dark red color which would no doubt be much less shiny after today. Under normal circumstances she’d have likely been ecstatic over the improvement, but now she looked at best _concerned_. Her helmet rested on the holotable, her face stoic, staring at the ever-encroaching UFO as it got closer and closer to the Citadel. But he sensed her resolve, he sensed it in all of them.

If they were going to go down today, they would go down fighting.

Van Doorn also wore his own variation of the Aegis armor, colored in a dull gray with light blue highlights. Flashes of purple gathered around his hand as he absentmindedly called upon his own powers. The General was also appraising the oncoming UFOs, but in a way the Commander had seen often before, calculating and methodical. A method he’d utilized much before. They’d had many discussions regarding the weaknesses of the Citadel, and he knew as much as the Commander when it came to this.

Bradford wasn’t wearing the Aegis armor, but instead an advanced variant of the original Kevlar armor. His was far more armored and layered with additional padding. All the staff from Analysis and Communication didn’t have the access to the advanced armors the soldiers had due to limited resources, but the Kevlar variants had been pushed to the point where it _could_ take at least one plasma shot.

But not very many after that.

Although Bradford’s something of an exception, since his variant was laced with the heaviest alien alloys XCOM had. Jackson also had a similar suit, though it was a bit lighter than Bradford’s. Analysis and Communications personnel also didn’t have full helmets; instead, tactical helms with exposed faces and a small clear visor over their eyes provided a limited HUD.

What Bradford _did_ have that was fully up to standard was a prototype gauss…cannon that rivaled Patricia’s autorifle in terms of sheer power. It was an assault rifle on steroids, as far as he could tell. It chewed through ammo in seconds, but had a massive clip and if the simulations were accurate, able to rip through a cyberdisk easily.

That prototype had been deemed by Shen as inefficient and too resource-intensive, so he’d been planning to scrap it when Bradford asked to use it instead. So that had become his own personal weapon, the precursor to the gauss rifles they used today. This time, however, the Commander felt that the pulse weaponry was going to be more useful for his rifle, but there were still excellent uses for his gauss sniper rifle.

Patricia was sticking with her autorifle, but Van Doorn now wielded the aptly named ‘autoblaster’, the pulse cannon that seemed decidedly unstable at least to him since the core barrels were exposed and glowed a hot red. Shen had assured him that it was just as safe as the autorifle, but the weapon looked decided fragile to him.

But it would definitely work.

“An hour at most,” Bradford updated as he took his position opposite Patricia. “I’ve received confirmation from Vahlen and Shen that they are ready to defend their positions.”

The Commander nodded; he’d received the same confirmations. Van Doorn pushed some buttons on the holotable and a recreation of mission control came up. “I’ve set up the personnel in Mission Control as best I can,” he pointed toward the circular doors which lead into the uncharted caverns. “We know that they’ll likely strike _here_ , so I’ve positioned our soldiers near the front, and regulated the Analysis and Communications staff towards the back and on the second floors.”

“Good choice,” the Commander nodded grimly as he looked at the layout. “They won’t hold out in a straight up firefight.”

“Not without support,” Bradford amended. “But they can hold their own. They have the weaponry at least.”

That they did. Even if armor was restricted, weapons were cheap enough to produce that all the staff were at least armed with gen-1 laser weaponry. Conventional weaponry was a thing of the past, for better or worse. Glass cannons the support personnel were, but it was much better than nothing.

“Right,” the Commander nodded, reaching down and changing the hologram. “I’ve set up the soldiers in the Hangar as well, though that’s straightforward since they’re almost certain to attack from the top. But we should be able to defend that position easily.”

“Same with the supply halls,” Patricia added with a nod. “There is a lot of cover available, but I’ve set my soldiers at elevated positions around the room. There is the risk of attacks from the roof, but more likely from the tunnels leading to the surface.”

“The biggest problem is going to be where the Ethereal attacks,” the Commander said slowly. “I do believe we can hold against whatever the aliens throw at us, but an Ethereal will guarantee our defeat unless our psions converge and take it out.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to send a Hive Commander or another psion along with him,” Patricia said, grimacing. “Not if they really want to wipe us out.”

He sighed. “You’re right. But no matter what they throw at us, _we can win_. That Ethereal had to flee before, and if we can corner it again, we can ensure it won’t escape.”

“That is the best-case scenario,” Van Doorn pointed out. “But you’re right. Guess it all comes down to this.”

“That it does,” the Commander nodded. “Which is why we need everyone to help. You said Herman is getting ready?”

Van Doorn nodded. “He is, and is at Mission Control now.”

Good man. “Excellent. I think we need to let Nartha help as well.”

Patricia frowned, and both Van Doorn and Bradford looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bradford asked slowly, rapping his fingers on the holotable.

“Not entirely,” the Commander admitted. “But I think the risk of it backfiring is low. He wants to prove himself, and this is a way to do it. Aside from that, he’s a trained soldier and we need as many of those as possible. Patricia, what do you think?”

“I don’t think he’s untrustworthy,” Patricia admitted, clearly not happy to admit that. “But if the Ethereal arrives…he might turn…”

“If an Ethereal arrives, I doubt it’ll be just him we have to worry about turning on us,” the Commander stated bluntly. “Unless anyone has any serious objections, that’s what I’m doing. Anyone?”

They weren’t that happy about it, and neither was he, but none of them raised any objections. “Then it’s settled,” the Commander said. “Patricia, you ready in case they start off with a psionic attack?”

She nodded. “I am, which will certainly happen. But a mass-mind control attempt won’t be as powerful as a direct attack, so if each psion nearby defends against local psionic attacks, you should probably negate the worst of it.”

“Well, let’s hope that training paid off,” Van Doorn muttered, flexing his fingers. “I somehow doubt an Ethereal will go easy on us.”

“Unlikely,” Patricia nodded. “But if he can be resisted for a few minutes, he’ll likely hold back instead of wasting energy. That’s all we need.”

“And what if there’s more than one?” Bradford asked quietly.

“Then we’re screwed,” the Commander said bluntly. “But let’s worry about that if it happens, ok?”

He nodded. “Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” the Commander looked each of them in the eyes. “To your stations then. Good luck and it’s been an honor to serve with you.” He saluted them, and they all eventually returned it.

With that all of them left, Van Doorn and Bradford to Mission Control, Patricia to the Supply Halls and him to the Hangar. Even against stacked odds, he had no intention of dying today. That was not how this story ended.

***

_The Citadel, Holding Cells_

Nartha knew exactly what was happening. He’d known the second the klaxon started blaring throughout the base. The Atlas Protocol was being initialized which meant the Ethereals were coming.

And he was stuck in this cell.

He scowled as he paced. Regardless of what happened, he didn’t want to die in this cell. The Ethereal was almost certainly leading it, and his army of Mutons, Vitakara and Sectoids likely would kill him if they managed to get down here.

Or worse, decided to take him in for questioning where he’d receive a full psionic interrogation and then a summary execution. Or worse than that, a subject to be sent to the Shapers.

But he wasn’t strong enough to break out of the cell, and even if he could, that would likely lead to him being shot by XCOM soldiers. The only way out of here was if the Commander decided to let him participate in the defense, and the chances of that happening were roughly 50/50 from his own baseless speculation.

It really depended on which justification entered the Commander’s head first, because either way had its advantages and disadvantages from an objective point of view. He _thought_ the Commander had some amount of trust in him, but if that’d be enough for him to let him participate in the defense…well, that had yet to be determined.

The door to his cell suddenly swung open and an armored XCOM soldier walked in. It had the build of a woman, and was somewhat smaller than him, even armored. The armor also seemed a bit different, sleeker, thicker and well…more _armored_. New from XCOM Engineering. The armor was painted a deep red, with a white emblem of a hawk inside a diamond on the shoulder. A scout.

He raised an eyebrow, the number of possible identities narrowing itself pretty distinctively. A new kind of laser rifle was attached to her back, and in her hand was a familiar case. “Shun?” He asked, somewhat hesitantly, but mostly convinced it was her.

His suspicion was confirmed when she spoke, even though her synthesized voice. “Yeah, it’s me. We’re going to be under attack soon if you haven’t noticed.”

Nartha indicated the ceiling and continuing alarms. “Somewhat hard to miss. Why are you here?”

She set the case down and kicked it in his direction. “You want to help us?”

Nartha nodded. “I do.”

She nodded towards the case. “Get suited up. Orders from the Commander to let you help.”

Nartha’s chest eased at that. At least he wasn’t going to die in a cell. “Thank you,” he told her as he knelt down and unlatched the case and found a suit of armor similar to hers.

“I’ve also got standing orders to kill you if you try and betray us,” she warned, though she was clearly amused. “So don’t do that, please. I really don’t want to kill you.”

Despite the situation, Nartha chuckled. “Duly noted, Shun. I know the Commander is taking a risk.”

“Well, I think he made the right choice,” Shun said as he began putting on the chestpiece. “Alien or no, you’re a good soldier.”

“Glad you approve,” he grunted as he began tightening the armor, realizing it was a bit heavier than the previous iteration.

“Let me help,” Shun said, stepping forward and securing his armor while he pulled on the gauntlets which actually clicked into place with the center piece. He flexed his fingers, nodding in satisfaction as he confirmed his full range of motion. Even if it was a bit heavier, the armor looked and felt vastly superior to the previous iteration.

Aside from that, it just felt good to be back in an XCOM uniform.

Shun stepped back and nodded once. “Looks good, just the helmet.”

Nartha picked up his helm and flipped it onto his head once more, waited a few seconds for it to boot up and once the HUD initialized, gave a thumbs-up to Shun. She reached down and handed him one of the new laser weapons. “Pulse rifle,” she explained. “New and improved laser weapons. Supposedly will cut through outsiders.”

 _Do they now_? Nartha wondered, grasping the weapon, noting that it retained the customary lightness compared to conventional and gauss weaponry. “Let’s hope so. I think we’ll be finding that out soon enough.”

“We’re going to the Hangar,” Shun said, motioning him to follow. “The Commander is leading the defense there.”

Nartha nodded, then frowned as a new thought struck him. “Do the others know I’m coming?”

“No, but I wouldn’t worry,” Shun said nonchalantly. “The Commander will deal with anyone who has a problem. Besides, I don’t think the majority of new soldiers know about you, or even care.”

“Ah, good to know,” he said, hoping she was right. “Where are the others?”

“Van Doorn and Bradford are defending Mission Control, Patricia is defending the Supply Halls,” Shun explained as they rounded a corner. “Shen and Vahlen are coordinating their own defenses. Don’t ask me about Zhang.”

“Guess they’re as ready as they could be,” Nartha said slowly. “All we can do is wait.”

“Yeah,” Shun sighed as they ran towards the Hangar. “But only for now.”

***

_The Citadel, Supply Halls_

There were two clear entrances. Two circular tunnels that led to the surface. Patricia had set up several crates and trucks to provide some initial cover, though never intended for it to be a permanent beachhead.

That was behind her.

If needed she would let the aliens into the actual storage area, a boxed in kill zone which would allow the soldiers set up on the high ground overlooking the storage depression to easily kill anything that moved. The two offices near the entrance would also be excellent for killing the initial waves, but secure enough to retreat to the open areas when the alien forces became overwhelming.

 _Soldiers in position,_ she telepathically sent to the Commander and Van Doorn. Thankfully she was able to contact them easily since they stood out so clearly within the Citadel.

 _Confirmed. We’re ready and waiting,_ Van Doorn sent back.

 _Acknowledged,_ The Commander also replied.

And now all she could do was wait. She’d split up her initial defense forces between the two entrances. She, Veronika and Orvil were taking the right side, while Annette, Latrell and Han were taking the left. Franklin and Creed would provide support for both.

Patricia was disappointed that the Goliath wasn’t ready to be deployed, but Franklin in his Ballista-class suit would be more than adequate for defending in such close quarters. She actually had quite a few of the new soldiers with her. Orvil from the French COS and one of the North Koreans, Han Su Hon.

Whatever issues the soldiers may have had with each other, all had been dispelled once the klaxons began blaring. Now all she sensed from everyone was a shared resolve, determination and anticipation. She wasn’t ignoring the fear and nervousness some of the soldiers exuded, but it wasn’t uncontrolled. Frankly, all of them should be scared.

But they were soldiers. They were trained for this, and each of them would retain control once the plasma and lead began raining down.

Then almost immediately, it began. A blanket stab of psionic energy jammed into her mind, freezing her initially as she took a few previous seconds to defend herself. Han fell to one knee, clutching his head, while Orvil didn’t seem affected yet.

“Psionic attack!” She simultaneously yelled and transmitted to every other psion in the base. “Focus!”

Annette also seemed to have resisted the initial attack and Patricia sensed her growing anger and focus outward. For her part she focused on the soldiers around her, specifically Han first, doing her best to remove the psionic strands that were being planted in his mind. It took a few seconds, but his mind was soon protected and she moved to the rest of the soldiers behind her.

It seemed Garen, Aya and Meru were also suffering a similar attack. All were trying to resist, but they were not psions. They couldn’t hold out against a sustained attack for long. But fortunately this psionic attack was as brute force as could be possible. Intangible and broad, with the command being simple and easy to defend as a result.

 _Kill_.

Uninventive, but all it would take was one to get through and cause havoc. Patricia gritted her teeth. _Not today, Ethereal_. She fed on her own anger and frustration to amplify her own powers, methodically finding each of her nearby soldiers and securing their minds, an invisible shield over all of them keeping out the poisonous thoughts.

She realized she’d dropped her weapon and was gripping the railing with enough force to slightly bend the steel. Something she really only noticed when she opened her eyes and observed the purple-tinted world. Everyone was focused, ready and prepared. She was linked to everyone, the Battlemaster of the coming fight.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, stiff and stoic as a piece of stone before the psionic attack receded. It could have been minutes or an hour. But it was gone. It was suddenly over and that was when it hit.

The entire base shook.

And she sensed him. Not by her. But he was here and coming to finish the job.

 _He’s here_. She sent to all the psions. _Could you defend?_

 _Barely._ Both the Commander and Van Doorn sent back and she let out a sigh of relief.

Barely was ok. Barely meant they’d done it.

 _Well done, psion._ The wail of the Ethereal’s voice entered her mind. _A good resistance. But that was only a start. By the end of today you will be dead and XCOM destroyed forever._

The words were stated with absolute certainty. Words that she couldn’t help but be nervous by. Yet she still knew they had a chance. _We will see._

She felt what seemed like amusement from him, but then again, it might have been her imagination.

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

It had been a while since he’d been in full combat armor, much less while prepared to rely on it. Herman was glad he’d practiced a bit with the gauss weapons, so he did have something of a clue as how to fire the damn things, which was more than he could say for some of the staff above him.

Mission Control was a very enclosed area that held against several choke points which were all fortunately on the far wall. Two circular doors that led deeper into the caverns, and the storey above had two doorways which led to the same area. The center of the room held a depression containing the hologlobe, and surrounding it were desks and short white walls which ended up making for decent cover.

To the right was Bradford and Jackson’s personal offices, which was also now being used as cover by several of the soldiers. There was a second story overlooking Mission Control which held most of the non-combative staff, which meant their chances of surviving were somewhat higher. Privately, Herman was concerned that they’d get spooked and might hit some of the soldiers below them.

Then again, maybe not. Peter would probably be able to maintain their discipline, especially when he was surrounded by nearly twenty of XCOM’s soldiers, as well as one of the MECs in the Marauder-class suit. Bradford was also on the second floor wielding his monster machine gun, which would no doubt also keep his people in line.

Peter did seem a little shaken now, and Herman suspected it had something to do with the odd sensation he’d felt a few minutes earlier. Several of the soldiers and staff had fallen to the ground, one had even tried to attack Bradford who’d then subdued him with a sharp crack to the head with the butt of his rifle. A psionic attack for sure, but one that seemed to be gone now.

Now they were just waiting.

The entire Citadel shook.

Several of the soldiers exchanged glances and trained their rifles on the entrances. His limited HUD displayed soldier names, but little else. He wasn’t wearing the armor of Peter or the XCOM soldiers, which was expected, but Herman did wish now that he was a little more armored. “Here they come,” the soldier to his right, Endre Pridan, muttered.

Peter was pacing slowly behind the hologlobe as they waited, his right arm engulfed in psionic energy as he doubtless was preparing to utilize it. And if he was preparing now, Endre was right. They were close.

“Weapons up!” Peter ordered, his synthesized voice doubled by the psionics. “They’re coming now! Remember that _we_ are the first and last line of defense! This is not just a battle for _us_ , this is a battle for the future of _humanity_! For the future of _Earth!”_

A loud shout sounded from every person in the room, nearly shaking it themselves with its intensity. Several shouts were accompanied by a fist pump or extended salute. Herman simply nodded in approval. Not the best speech Peter had ever given, but it was good enough and set the tone while reminding them what they were fighting for.

“Fire on my command!” Peter roared, raising his psionically sheathed arm as the moment finally drew close. He could hear it now. Faint whirring. A roar. A chitter.

Sectoids. Mutons. Drones.

They were bringing everything, it seemed.

Then it happened. The doors blew open and several mutons came charging through. Green ones wielding their normal plasma rifles who wasted no time beginning to aim. _“Fire!”_ Peter shouted, thrusting his hand forward, and a shimmering purple field appeared in front of the mutons, preventing them moving forward.

All six were instantly annihilated by the barrage of laser, pulse and gauss fire from everyone in the room. But that was only the beginning. More mutons charged through, now accompanied by several mechtoids which were shimmering with psionic shielding from other sectoids. Herman aimed his weapon towards one of the mutons and fired, grinning as it fell back with several holes in its head.

Fire from above cut one mechtoid down before it had a chance to fire, while Duygu Nur, the MEC trooper raised his wrists and immolated the remaining mutons as well as scorching the remaining mechtoid. Said mechtoid was attempting to return fire, but Peter was manipulating a shield in front of it, which absorbed the plasma while every other soldier ripped the MEC apart.

The whine of engines caught his attention and he looked up just as Cai Wong pointed up. “Floaters!”

They were floaters alright, bursting through the second floor doors with an oddly graceful flight. But these weren’t normal floaters. They’d been enhanced. Gray masks covered their faces and every single vulnerable point had been either covered up with armor or removed entirely. There weren’t haphazard experiments released anymore. There were flying killing machines wielding massive plasma rifles.

The weapons fire immediately turned skyward as the floaters began their aerial attack. One threw a grenade towards the second floor and even though Bradford shredded the machine, Herman heard several screams as the grenade took its toll. Another floater managed to get behind one of the soldiers, Enzo, blasting him almost point-blank in the head before Cai and Zerren destroyed it.

The other two were being forced to move evasively, but it opened the door for more units to get through. Herman looked to the doors to see more mutons coming through and this time taking positions. Up above a couple cyberdisks were flying through, and clearly ready to unleash hell down upon them.

“Take out the floaters!” Peter ordered, his armor encased in a shimmering purple copy. “I’ll hold off the cyberdisks!”

“Providing protection.” Duygu stated robotically, as he moved in front of Peter as he stood and extended his hands to the mechanical disks which were suddenly surrounded by a shimmering purple field. Stasis of some kind. Herman fired up on of the floaters, clipping it which was enough for some of the analysts above to finish it off. Pelin and Sierra, two of the soldiers shot the other one a few seconds later.

“Clear!” Bradford yelled.

Peter nodded and dropped down into cover as they began working on the new threats. The mutons were beginning to fire on them from their entrenched positions, and the cyberdisks were transforming into their killing variants. One muton went down, but Vivian Li, one of the Taiwanese soldiers fell back as several plasma bolts slammed into her head.

The cyberdisks then opened fire, raining golden rounds down upon the MEC which tore into the armor with a massive amount of force. “Taking fire,” he stated calmly as he raised his massive gauss cannon. “Require assistance.”

“Zerren! Take them out!” Bradford yelled, and the Turkish soldier pulled out his rocket launcher and aimed at the two disks.

“Firing!” He yelled and the rocket shot out with a boom. The cyberdisks seemed to realize what was happening and one immediately withdrew into its shell while the other was blown to pieces in a shower of shrapnel and yellow fluid. The rocketeer whooped at that as did several other soldiers.

But the fight was far from over. More mutons were coming in, taking even closer positions while the entrenched aliens laid down a layer of green suppressive plasma fire. And these were the elites. Red armored mutons that towered over their green brothers. But the good news was that they made for much bigger targets and there were only three of them.

“Duygu! Take out the greens!” Peter yelled, his power restored somewhat. “I’ll shield you! Everyone else focus on the elites!”

“Support, focus on the right one!” Herman heard Bradford order and that one was immediately the target of four laser beams and hundreds of gauss fire, forcing it to a knee by the sheer force of the attack.

“Focus on the legs or head!” Herman shouted, hoping his voice registered with some of them as they began dealing with the other two. Duygu was suddenly encased in a shimmering purple field and he began charging the muton line, plasma fire melting off him by water. Two shots from his weapon blew the heads off two mutons while a flame blast immolated several more near the doors.

Herman focused his fire on the head of one of the elites, the beast roaring as it became the target of so much firepower. It lowered its weapon and spat out green plasma, shredding the cover of Jae Man-Tu, one of the new South Koreans. He tried getting into more cover but a green bolt clipped his leg and the moment he went down, was annihilated by more barrages of plasma fire.

The elite that Bradford’s team was focused on was now dead and lying in a pool of red and yellow. The one Herman was focusing on was bleeding profusely, but not quite dead yet. The final one was engaged in a melee with Duygu and seeming to lose. Strong the muton might be, but even it was small compared to the being of steel.

Two shots from Duygu’s weapon blew holes in the muton, and it’s strength didn’t match either. Duygu jammed a metal fist forward, slamming it into the faceplate of the muton which stumbled back, while he raised the other fist and unleashed a sustained gout of blue flame at the muton which shrieked in utter agony as it melted from within.

The remaining muton was also dead thanks to the combined fire from Bradford’s team, and they were now focusing on the remaining cyberdisk which had opened back up and was aiming at the second level. Its barrels hissed as it spat golden projectiles, and Herman heard several more screams from above.

“Seok! Sierra! Take that out!” Peter shouted and the three soldiers in question raised their pulse weapons and fired sustained beams into the cyberdisk, the red beams drilling through the metal in seconds. The cyberdisk immediately tried once more to turtle up, but it was too late and in the middle of the conversion, it exploded.

“More coming!” Ariel yelled and Herman swung his weapon back to see some new kind of enemy charging through. Actually, specifically at Duygu. They were mutons, at least from what he could tell from the armor. But these were the same size as the elites, and instead of wielding plasma rifles, they had two serrated and curved blades attached to their wrists.

Two were charging at Duygu, while the remaining three charged into the line of soldiers, shaking off the barrages of laser and gauss fire like they couldn’t feel it. Each hit resulted in a roar, but that only seemed to make these aliens angrier. One cornered a terrified Perrie Tarot, and quickly impaled him in the head with the blades, though that allowed them to execute the muton quickly.

Peter was focusing on another soldier, Golan, shielding him as another of these mutons attempted to impale him. Herman aimed at the joints of the muton, and seemed to score a hit as the muton fell to the ground, roaring as it pulled itself towards the vulnerable soldier.

Duygu was alive still, but taking damage as he attempted dealing with these mutons designed for melee combat. One was pretty much dead, but the other was still going strong, and more mutons were coming through, now a mixture of elites and normal ones. Herman felt his head sink as he saw the reinforcements arrive. How many of these were there?

The initial berserker mutons were dead, minus the one still assaulting Duygu, who finally killed it by managing to grasp its armored head and squeezing till the metal leaked tan and yellow. But now he was under fire from the other mutons, his armor scorched and sparking from the plasma fire.

“Suppressive fire!” Peter roared and with a rallying cry, all of them focused on the new line of mutons, forcing them deep into cover once again. Herman’s chest eased a bit as they kept it up. They still had the numbers advantage here, and with the berserkers dead, it seemed like that might be the worst of it. They still had to assault other parts, and even if the elites were difficult, it could be done.

Herman screamed, as did every other soldier as a wave of pain tore through them. Agony which he’d not experienced in years. Peter wasn’t quite as affected, stumbling back, looking around frantically. Through the pain Herman looked up at the second floor and saw the Ethereal standing above them. Cloaked in red, the air distorted around him, the being withdrew a shriveled purple arm, palm up.

Herman watched in horror as Bradford was drawn towards the Ethereal, gasping as another wave of pain tore into him. Bradford was similarly in pain, suspended well above the floor of Mission Control, directly before the Ethereal. Herman would have fired at it if he could, but the pain was making it difficult to focus on anything but.

“Shoot it down!” Peter roared, his body flaring again with purple light and Herman felt the pain recede and raised his rifle at the Ethereal.

“Your war is at an end,” the Ethereal roared, making Herman want to make himself deaf to never hear that voice again. “Your effort was admirable, but not good enough.” His arm flared with purple and Bradford’s body was ripped apart by purple wreaths of energy, cutting him into pieces which then fell to the floor with a wet flop.

Two more hands extended as every single person forgot the mutons and focused on the Ethereal. Lasers were turned away and bullets missed while the Ethereal weathered the storm of death. Purple energy flared around its lower arms and a maelstrom of energy appeared on the floor by Peter, tearing Aindreas, Cai and Golan apart. Peter managed to survive by sheathing himself in a purple shield.

But now the pain was back. Terrible pain that made him not think clearly. He just wanted the pain to stop and there was only one way to do it. He stood, and shuffled forward, not sure why he was moving forward, nor why the mutons weren’t shooting at him. The world was fading away, slowly engulfed by the pain and need to _do something_.

Peter was shouting something, raising his hands once more towards the Ethereal.

Which he couldn’t allow. Not anymore. He just wanted the pain to stop.

He raised his own rifle towards the General’s head and fired at point-blank range. Peter fell forward, dead instantly. Yet the pain was still there, and the sheer enormity of it caused him to fall to the ground, wondering what he’d done to deserve it. Why wouldn’t the pain stop? Was it all a lie?

His vision becoming blurry, just above him he could see one of the elites above him lower his rifle towards his face and smiled. Ah, so this is what it meant.

The elite fired and the pain stopped.

***

_The Citadel, Hangar_

The good part about defending the Hangar was that there was one clear line of attack. The opening at the top allowing aircraft to arrive and deport. The Commander had set up the soldiers in such a way that if needed, they would be able to retreat further into the Citadel, as well as moved the skyrangers out of the line of fire. Directly underneath the opening was no cover whatsoever. It would be instant death for the first few waves that came down.

He had just over twenty soldiers and two MECs. Enough to defend this place.

Thanks to Iosif and with a bit of his own help, that brief psionic attack hadn’t lasted too long and everyone had been more or less protected.

“They’re above us,” Iosif muttered to him as he readied his weapon. “Can you sense them?”

The Commander concentrated above. Yes. Slightly. Iosif was more sensitive than him when it came to this, but there was definitely a lot of life on the surface. “Somewhat,” he answered. “Only a matter of time.”

The Hangar opening to the surface boomed as the aliens attempted to get inside. “Ready weapons!” The Commander ordered, pacing behind the line of soldier, keeping his eyes on the opening. “Open fire the moment they drop down! Understood?”

 _“Yes, Commander!”_ They all shouted in response.

Another boom shook the ceiling. “XCOM is the first and last line of defense,” he continued as he watched the hatch bend slightly. “Today we are the last. If we fall today, the world will soon follow. But I know we won’t fail. XCOM has faced the worst the aliens have to offer and we’ve survived. They have nothing more to threaten us with!”

“Damn right,” Carmelita agreed with a furious nod.

The hatch blew open with a bright explosion, scraps of metal falling onto the floor with a loud clang. Six floaters flew in, and these ones were much more armored than the previous iterations. Likely the perfected design. But the air was instantly lit up with bright red and green beams of destruction with gauss fire mixed into it.

Two of the floaters were instantly taken out by pulse weaponry, and the others were forced into evasive maneuvers while attempting to navigate the deadly minefield of gauss and laser fire. One swerved close to the line attempting a strafing run and the Commander seized the opportunity and reached out, gathering his psionic power and caught the floater in mid-air.

It almost physically yanked him forward, but the catch was enough to allow Finn and Abel, two of the new soldiers to quickly tear it apart. “Outsiders!” Shun shouted and the Commander looked forward to see four of the outsiders jumping into the ground, as well as one of the massive outsiders wielding a deadly plasma cannon. Well, hopefully they could actually kill it this time.

“Apis! Jerra! Iosif!” The Commander called. “Take care of the floaters! Everyone else focus on the outsiders!”

There were shouts of acknowledgement and within seconds the majority of fire was unleashed on the outsiders. Two pulse beams drilled into one of the outsiders, which fell to one knee, seemingly surprised that it couldn’t absorb the energy and another beam added to it finished it off.

The other outsiders began ducking and weaving, shooting off their own plasma shots, but without much success. The outsider leader was unperturbed by the hail of fire and began laying down a barrage of green fire towards the line of XCOM soldiers. Several ducked and there were several close calls, but no casualties.

The lack of cover was proving to be a problem for the aliens, as two more outsiders were ripped apart or disintegrated by combined gauss and pulse weaponry. Another outsider fell from the sky while the Commander once more gathered his power and directed it around the outsider leaders, and had it rise up, his hand raised in the direction of the being.

Now more aliens were literally dropping in. More outsiders and some new kind of muton, also in red armor, but with blades attached to the gauntlets. The outsider leader looked around in confusion, while the Commander slowly applied pressure to it, slowly clenching his hand into a fist. He had no aspirations of killing the outsider, but the weapon…that could be destroyed.

The final floater fell from the sky, although that was only a brief respite as six more flew in, requiring a portion of the fire to be redirected towards the aerial threat. The weapon the outsider leader was holding began sparking as the pressure the Commander applied crushed the metal and delicate components within.

It exploded and he let the outsider drop, the being sparking and cracked, though it would heal itself within a few seconds. The outsiders still weren’t having much success, still unable to weather the storm of pulse and gauss for enough time to get to anywhere safe.

“Carmelita! Go!” The Commander ordered, knowing the Iosif would also know what to do.

“Copy!” She yelled, and Iosif’s body flared as he directed a shimmering shield around Carmelita who jumped directly into the fray. The new mutons had already started charging, but Carmelita overshot them and landed by the outsider leader and instantly fired several bursts from her alloy cannon into its head, finishing it off.

She leapt back a few feet as a couple mechtoids fell in, and began training their own weapons on her. The melee mutons were also having more success weathering the attacks from the XCOM soldiers, only screaming and roaring as metal and fire burned into them, the pain only seeming to make them angrier.

But they were getting too close for comfort. “Amahle! Take out the chargers!” He ordered. The woman in the Marauder suit stormed towards the charging mutons, raising her firsts and engulfed the line in a storm of blue and orange flame.

“Firing barrage!” Sanya also stated from his Ballista MEC suit. A wrist packed with missiles rose and unleashed a barrage on the tripod of mechtoids. They tried scattering, but Carmelita had distracted them enough that they couldn’t move until it was too late. Samuel whooped as the mechtoids fell to the ground in a mixture of melting metal and flesh.

The Commander felt a burst of elation as he saw more aliens fall to XCOM. He looked up to see several of the floaters still trying to get a shot. He focused his power around one of the floaters, and unlike the outsider, this one was weaker and could be dealt with. He clenched his fist, watching with satisfaction as the floater’s armor crumpled, and began screaming as the metal that protected it became a lethal prison. The engines that propelled it exploded and the Commander yanked down, throwing the now-dead alien corpse to the ground.

He grinned at that. That particular feeling couldn’t be replicated. But this wasn’t nearly over. Another floater was shot out of the sky, and still more aliens came pouring in. This time it was a consistent barrage over a few minutes. First at least six muton elites, eight floaters, four mechtoids and six outsiders.

They really planned to overwhelm them with numbers.

“They’re getting desperate!” Iosif yelled, still engulfed in purple energy as directed psionic shield around the more targeted areas.

Carmelita had long since jumped back into the line of soldiers and was firing continuous barrages at the encroaching line. One of the soldiers yelled and the Commander looked over to see Colanar Sanger, one of the newer soldiers fall back with his head gone. Now the sheer force of the alien pod was making it difficult for retaliatory fire which meant it was time for a few strategy.

The outsiders were first, followed by the elites and finally the mechtoids. Outsiders wouldn’t be a problem as long as there were clear shots. “Iosif! Amahle! Flame them!”

“Affirmative,” Amahle confirmed beginning to move into the thick of the fighting.

“You’re protected!” Iosif told her, as a thin purple field appeared over her. “Go now! It won’t last!”

“Sanya! Target the floaters!” The Commander ordered, gathering his own power and raising both hands to focus on the first line of outsiders. He didn’t do anything to them, just tried holding them in place while Amahle raised her wrists once more.

“Killing them with fire!” She stated and cones of flame engulfed the pod, breaking their discipline and forcing them to scatter.

“Targeting hostiles,” Sanya confirmed, a small missile pod rising from his shoulder pointing up. It fired several micro-missiles as several of the floaters, none of which were able to evade the seeking missiles.

Their line broken, the outsiders were destroyed in a concentrated line of pulse and gauss fire. The still-burning elites were stumbling away, still firing wildly as they tried to return some of the weapons fire.

The Commander focused on one of the elites, though instead of focusing on the body, instead focused on the head of the elite and squeezed his hand into a fist. He gained far too much satisfaction by watching the metal fold in on itself into its head, yellow blood leaking from the crevices around the neck. That satisfaction gave him a rush that dispelled any exhaustion he felt at performing that act.

“They’re still coming!” Yeva shouted while she fired at another elite. All the floaters had been dealt with, the elites were dead or dying, and both Sanya and Amahle were engaging the mechtoids at close range, leveling burst of flame and simple punches at the smaller machines.

Behind the pod of mechtoids were some new aliens he hadn’t seen before. It appeared to be in an armored suit of some kind, the helmet nothing more than clouded green transparent material. They were smaller than the mechtoids, but were more bulky and wielded some variant of plasma weapons which were attached to some container on its back.

There were four in total, and all of them aimed upwards and fired green...blobs?

“Cover!” The Commander roared as he saw the blobs heading for the line and stepped back. It seemed to be a liquid of some kind. Most of the soldiers managed to step back, but Romed Virgil was caught in one of the blast radiuses, though didn’t live long as the substance ate right through him.

“Acid!” The Commander called. “Take those out!”

Sanya fired his weapon at point-blank range into a stunned mechtoid and immediately joined Amahle in dealing with the new aliens. There was still one mechtoid alive, but it was quickly taken out by the line of soldiers.

Amahle fired another burst of flame towards the aliens, but unlike the previous ones, it didn’t seem to affect them at all and instead they raised their wrists and shot a burst of green gas at her which immediately began eating through her armor as soon as it made contact, forcing her to step back. Sanya took the hint and also dropped back, firing a small missile in return.

Amazingly the alien was able to take the full blast, though the impact forced it to one knee, but the others kept approaching, firing green lances of plasma. A kind that seemed to tear through weak cover. Calebe shouted as one of the beams tore into his arm, falling to the ground. While Blake rushed to help him, the Commander focused on the aliens.

“Aim for the helmet!” He ordered. “Hit the weak spot!”

They shouted several confirmations and refocused on the helmets, which were thankfully quite large. But this damn armor could certainly take a lot. The aliens had likely realized that the helmet was weak and reinforced it with the hardest substance they could have. But even that couldn’t hold out forever, as cracks began forming in several of the helmets of the aliens.

Carmelita jumped forward, shielded again by Iosif and unloaded several barrages from her cannon directly into the faceplate of one, which broke with a loud hiss. A thin screech sounded from inside and the alien within slumped forward, the skin drying in wrinkling within seconds. The suit it had apparently been driving also came to a stop, and Carmelita turned away to move to the next one.

Except that the suit began moving and raised a gauntleted fist. “Behind you!” The Commander shouted, frantically reaching forward and telekinetically holding up the alien gauntlet that would slammed into her. She spun around and leapt back as it swung at her with its weapon. It took her a second to adjust, but to rectify it she reached for her belt and pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the suit and leapt back.

The body inside was ripped to nothing, and that did seem to do the trick. The suit fell to the ground a few seconds, sparking and leaking yellow and green fluid. The soldiers were also figuring out ways to deal with these new aliens. Several were focusing pulse weapons at the legs, cutting them off to halt their progress. Sanya and Amahle were flanking them as well, targeting the tanks on their back, splattering them with the acid, which at least prevented them from using it against them.

Another alien fell to the ground, sparking as the suit gave out while another’s helmet got blown off. Sanya fired several more missiles at the downed alien for good measure, and the rest of them focused on filling the remaining two aliens with metal and lasers. Once a sufficient amount of time had been devoted to that, the Commander raised a fist and silence filled the room.

The moment of adrenaline fading, the Commander surveyed the room. The Hangar was splattered with alien blood and corpses, with only two casualties and one injury of their own. A good start if he said so himself. “That couldn’t have been the last of them.” Nartha said, walking up. “They wouldn’t give up like this.”

The Commander agreed, but there was actually a good reason for that. “They know they can’t win here. So they’ll either attack a different part or want us to come to them.”

“The UFO?” Iosif asked, the frown evident in his voice.

The Commander smiled. “Exactly. Big Sky?”

The pilot had taken a rear position, but had survived and seemed very eager. “Yes, Commander?”

He pointed at the now-destroyed hatch. “Could the skyranger fit through that?”

He appraised the hole. “The aliens were clean with the explosion…so I think that could work.”

 _“Commander!”_ Jackson’s voice interrupted, and he immediately switched to her channel.

“Status?” He demanded.

 _“Retreat!”_ She breathed, the sounds of fighting in the background. _“Bradford and Van Doorn are dead. The Ethereal is here! We’re retreating to Patricia!”_

Damn it. So that was where it was. “Copy, I’ll come to reinforce there as well.” He switched to Patricia’s frequency. “Patricia?”

 _“We’re holding them, Commander,”_ she answered, while fighting raged in the background. _“What about-take that out!”_

“Hangar is secured for now,” he answered urgently. “Mission Control has fallen and the Ethereal is likely headed towards you. I’m heading there to respond.”

_“Copy! We’ll be waiting!”_

“Carmelita!” He called as he strode towards her.

“Yes?” She answered instantly.

“Take what soldiers we have left and take the UFO,” he ordered. “I’ll be leading a team to reinforce Patricia.”

“What about me?” Iosif asked. “If the Ethereal-“

“You’ll accompany them,” the Commander interrupted. “If there’s another psion on board, they need a means of protection.”

He gave a brief nod. “Understood, Commander.”

“Samuel, Yaseen, Jona, Maven, you’re with me,” he shouted, turning on his heel. “Good luck Carmelita.”

“You too, Commander,” she said. “The UFOs will be ours.”

He nodded and with the soldiers behind him, charged into the Citadel to reinforce Patricia and slow the alien advancement.

***

_The Citadel, Supply Halls_

Patricia watched emotionlessly as two of the lesser mutons suicidally charged the elite, mixing it up between firing their plasma weapons and straight up punching it. They didn’t really have much individual thought anymore. All that mattered was what she willed.

A fact that many of the aliens here had learned the hard way.

She’d only lost one so far to sustained outsider attack, Han. There had unfortunately been little she could have done to stop that, but it still felt like a failure. But the rest of the room was filled with dead or dying aliens. She’d figured out quickly that the elites were resistant to mind control, even if she could break through eventually.

It wasn’t possible at all on the outsiders, but that was something she had suspected to begin with, which oddly enough made them the most dangerous of all the enemies here. The aliens had started small at first, sending in mutons, the enhanced floaters and only now had they begun sending more heavy forces.

Six cyberdisks floated through, a ludicrous amount even for something like this. Smart too, since she couldn’t control them. Now might actually be the time to pull back…oh, hold on. Accompanying them were more mutons. Foolish.

Their minds were so simple now it only took seconds to break into them and plant a few simple commands. _Kill the machines. Then each other._ Their eyes became glazed and they immediately aimed upwards towards the cyberdisks. Several of them transformed into their attack modes and began firing on her soldiers, while two focused on the controlled mutons.

Patricia heard Annette yell, and watched as the woman sheathed in energy rose and directed her destructive powers at one of the open cyberdisks, the energy writhing around the machine, damaging vital components, scorching and tearing the metal apart which concluded in the cyberdisk exploding in a brilliant yellow flash.

Creed, Latrell and Myra also took another one down a few seconds later, getting the attention of the other open cyberdisk, which rained down more fire, steam rising from its cannons as it forced them back into cover. Patricia felt several more aliens approaching, and looked up to see about six more of those suited aliens coming through.

They were interesting, and one of the best unexpected resources in this fight. They weren’t particularly psionic resistant, but they were _extremely_ difficult to kill since it had taken three mutons to take down just one. The only drawback was that once the pilot died, some kind of AI took over the suit and made it a problem again.

But she could work with that. She focused around the alien minds, ones that seemed more methodical than mutons, yet not devoid of emotion like the sectoids. What she’d really imagine beings hooked up to cybernetics would be. All she had to do was imprint her will on them like she had with the others. _Attack your allies_.

The encroaching aliens paused once she sent the command, then a few seconds later began firing up, down, wherever there was an alien. Anywhere but at XCOM. One of the aliens raised its wrist and sprayed a mist of acid at one of the cyberdisks which instantly corroded the material. Before the cyberdisk could move, she and Veronika added to the mix and shot it out of the sky.

“More fast ones!” Orvil called as he directed her attention to more of the melee mutons charging into the fray. They were somewhat tricky since it seemed they were so hyped up on drugs that rage was the only emotion available to them, which made it difficult to control their minds. Two of the suited aliens turned to face the muton and began firing at it.

The alien charged blindly, shrugging off the plasma fire and slamming it’s spiked gauntlets repeatedly into the green helmet of the alien. Even when the other one sprayed it with mist, it didn’t seem to slow it down and only punched harder until the glass cracked with a burst of air and glass. The muton roared and charged forward while the suited alien had to start dealing with the AI controlled suit.

“Orvil, get back!” She called as she watched the muton charge his position. “Creed! Franklin! Kill it!”

MEC and soldier turned to the charging alien while Orvil stumbled back, clearly surprised by the ferocity of the attack. Patricia focused on impressing _slow_ into its brain but it was too blinded by pain and rage to pay any remote attention to her suggestions. Creed missed his shot, but Franklin scored one on its leg and with a last leap it lunged toward Orvil and tackled him to the ground.

Roaring in triumph it stabbed down at his helmet and neck, the blades piercing the weak points with ease. _Fuck_. Franklin stormed over and laid a solid punch into the muton, throwing it several feet back before unloading several gauss rounds into it’s head at point-blank range. Patricia looked over to the other side to see Annette manipulating a swirling energy storm that was consuming three of the suited aliens and the remainder of these muton berserkers.

Annette herself already had a miniature storm around her body, Patricia suspected that the energy around her was just as lethal as the energy tearing the aliens apart now. But standing up, surrounded by power and extending one claw-like hand towards the center of the maelstrom, she looked as close to invincible as Patricia could imagine.

The energy only swelled further as Patricia connected to her, let her draw off her own strength and she watched as bit by bit, the aliens were ripped apart with no subtlety or grace. Once the storm finally died, only pieces remained. At that point two mechtoids charged in, took a look around, and that was all she needed to get inside their empty minds.

_Go back out and kill everything._

The mechtoids hesitated somewhat, then turned around and did exactly that. Patricia then motioned all of her soldiers to come back. “Head to our retreat position. Let them come closer to us.”

They all shouted an affirmative and they all rushed back to join the bulk of the soldiers. It also seemed that Zhang had joined the fray with some of his agents. “Director,” she greeted, walking up. “Glad you’re still alive.”

Even under attack by aliens, he sounded unimpressed, even through his Aegis armor. “The same could be said for you, Psion. What is the situation?”

“Contained,” she answered, looking over at the entrances. “The aliens are weak-willed, and we control the battlefield. It’s not going to change much unless psions begin arriving.”

“And they will,” Zhang promised grimly. “The Ethereal just took Mission Control. Bradford and Van Doorn are dead.”

Hearing it again didn’t make it easier, but hopefully he had some news the Commander hadn’t mentioned. “Any survivors?”

“Jackson is leading a few of the soldiers and personnel here,” he answered. “The good news is the Commander has secured the Hangar and is sending the team to assault the attacking UFO.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Patricia nodded, tapping her helmet. “He’s on his way too.”

One nod. “Yes. The aliens will also likely attack the labs and Engineering Bay along the way. That should buy us more time to prepare.”

“Unless of course the Ethereal wants to take his time,” Creed muttered grimly.

“I don’t think so,” Patricia said slowly, shaking her head. “I think he’ll come to me as soon as possible.”

She reached out and quickly located the Ethereal coming towards her. Unmistakable. She sensed nothing beyond duty, resolve and pain. He was coming to kill her and end their war once and for all. There would be no prisoners taken in this attack.

“He’s coming here,” she repeated dreamily. “He’s coming to kill me.”

“Hey.” She felt a hand on her shoulder and reached back to grasp Creed’s hand. “We’ve beat him before,” he promised. “We’ll win again.”

“We will,” Zhang stated with a cold confidence. “I’ve faced beings like him. Ones who believe power makes them invincible. They often overestimate their power and we proved it once, and today we shall prove it decisively.”

She understood where Zhang was coming from, but this Ethereal wasn’t like an overconfident general. He had no bravado. No overconfidence. Why should he bother with either when he _knew_ that he had incredible power? If anything, she was concerned that they were _underestimating_ him.

But all they could do was prepare. And she did had a good idea of where the Ethereal would attack from.

“Warn Shen and Vahlen they’ll likely have company,” she ordered Creed, before turning back to Zhang. “Anything else?”

“The United States is sending air and ground support to the Citadel,” Zhang confirmed. “Most will likely die, but they might be useful in clearing the aliens out and supporting the attack on the UFO.”

Patricia pursed her lips. “Then let’s hope that the Ethereal was the only powerful psion here.”

She could hear the frown in Zhang’s voice. “Can you not sense another?”

“This deep? No,” she admitted. “Not to mention the Ethereal is powerful enough to possibly obscure any other threats and I don’t want to waste energy looking for something that isn’t there.”

Zhang seemed satisfied with that, and they stood there for a few minutes, looking at the carnage ahead. “How many do you think they have?”

“Several hundred or a thousand?” Patricia sighed. “I don’t think it really matters. Unless the Ethereal is killed, the others are just distractions.”

“Then focus on that,” Zhang said, raising his weapon. “The rest of us will deal with the distractions.”

She smiled wearily. “Let’s do that. We’ve got an Ethereal to prepare for.”

***

_The Citadel, Research Labs_

He had always wondered what sort of experiments Vahlen and her team were running behind closed doors. Weapons, he’d thought. Stuff with the MELD substance, clearly, though what that entailed he didn’t know what to think. This entire place had been an…experience to put it lightly, especially upon first arrival.

Not like Iraq at all.

Jamali and Lesedi exchanged a look, even through their helmets they could convey just how unreal this felt. The aliens attack was partially the cause, and had been a day he’d been secretly dreading for a long time.

No, the main cause of his discomfort was the unholy chryssalid in front of him. Not just one, either. _Six_.

Six large, armored, and very much alive chryssalids.

Fakhr had almost blown up the labs when she’d seen the beasts around Vahlen and her team, who’d been frantically putting on armor and grabbing odd-looking weapons and grenades. Had Vahlen not come storming over demanding she put the weapon down, he’d have never figured out these were ‘friendly’ chryssalids.

So, right then. They’d been growing chryssalids.

 _Chryssalids_.

He wondered what the Commander had been on when Vahlen had suggested it to him, because he _knew_ she’d been the one to suggest it. He suspected they were together, so he doubted it had taken much for Vahlen to convince him of the ‘benefits.’

Although to her credit, the chryssalids were staying a good distance away while they were set up in the labs, having turned over some of the desks and equipment for cover. Lautaro and Lesedi were beside him, while Ralph was towards the front, and slightly behind him was Fakhr. Not a lot to begin with, and the scientists were in the back to provide support.

Jamali pursed his lips as he looked at the scientists. Their armor was barely better than typical ISOF gear from Iraq, and he _knew_ that it wouldn’t last under _any_ kind of alien weapon fire. To make up for it they seemed to have an array of creative weapons he could only guess at. Only Vahlen was appropriately armored with the Aegis armor and helmet, which was colored a pure white. Not like he’d really expected anything else.

She was pacing behind them, commanding an intensity that could only be the result of psionics. She was likely doing everything she could to keep her pets in line, so he felt it best not to disturb her too much.

The room suddenly shook, and all of them looked up. Jamali clenched his gauss rifle a little tighter. He really hated not knowing what was going on. “Mission Control has fallen,” Vahlen finally said, drawing every eye on her. “The Commander has warned that the aliens are coming our way. Prepare yourselves.”

There had been a brief debate over which soldier was in charge, but since they were all special forces of one kind or another, it really didn’t matter, experience-wise. Fakhr had seen the most action, so she was the official Squad Overseer, though Jamali had a feeling that Vahlen wouldn’t comply if she felt her ideas were better.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

“So we still hold the Hangar and Supply Halls?” Ralph asked from the front. “Patricia and the Commander are alive?”

“Correct,” Vahlen confirmed. “I suspect Mission Control was where the Ethereal attacked, and thus why it fell so quickly.”

Jamali looked around, wondering if anyone had somehow missed the implication. Allah protect them all. “Then that means the Ethereal is coming _here_?”

Vahlen hesitated before answering. “Possibly.”

Jamali didn’t need to be a psion to feel the mood in the room turn… _concerned_ at the very least. His ears perked up as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallways. “They’re coming!” Lesedi called, raising her rifle.

“Weapons up!” Fakhr ordered.

Everyone complied except Vahlen who stood straight, the air around her shimmering. “Dr. Vahlen?” Jamali asked. “You should probably get into cover.”

She looked down at him dispassionately. “In time, but I want to see how they work.”

He rolled his eyes at that, wondering if she realized that she could do the same _from cover_. That was not going to make his job easier, and if she died because of that he didn’t envy the person who told the Commander his girlfriend had died due to her own stupidity.

Then it happened. Two green-armored mutons charged into view and began firing their plasma weapons, shattering the glass. Then they saw the chryssalids and hesitated, which was that moment when they roared and charged the mutons. It was clearly something they hadn’t expected as the chryssalids tore into them and covered their bodies like spiders before ripping out their faces and throats.

One of the chryssalids raised its bloody jaws and screeched in triumph as green plasma fire streaked towards them from deeper down the hallways. They roared and charged off and the sound of alien grunts and screams was audible to them. Jamali didn’t take pleasure in their agony, but it was better than it being human.

“They seem to be working well,” Lesedi muttered as an elite came into view, unleashing its cannon at the oncoming chryssalids. “Who would have thought?”

The two chryssalids attacking the elite were whittling it down bit by bit, their nimble bodies making it difficult to land shots and one had attached itself to its back and was furiously stabbing into the muton with glee. Two chryssalids suddenly came charging back, followed by plasma fire which was revealed to be from two outsiders.

One stamped a crystalline foot on the back of one chryssalid, pinning it despite the struggling and fired several plasma rounds into its face. Looked like it was their turn. “Fire!” Fakhr ordered and Lautaro and Ralph fired their pulse rifles into the outsider while the rest of them fired at the other. Jamali saw the rounds chip off parts of the outsider’s leg, and fire from Lesedi and Fakhr blasted parts of its head off. One of the scientists threw some kind of smoking grenade at the outsider and it exploded with a white burst.

A freeze grenade apparently, as the outsider was covered in a thin sheet of white. He aimed carefully at the head and fired a few shots, shattering it. Looking over at the other one, it had been disintegrated by the pulse weapons and the remaining chryssalids were ravaging the elite which was somehow still alive.

“Shoot it when they leave!” Vahlen barked, her voice unnaturally doubled. Jamali didn’t need to ask what she meant, so when the chryssalids dropped off and scuttled a few feet back, they all fired at the elite and finished it off for good. It wasn’t to last sadly, as two more muton elites charged into view and _now_ began firing at them.

The remaining four chryssalids immediately began attacking the legs, but that didn’t seem to do much. Jamali focused on the helmets, knowing that was a weak spot. The thing was that this cover wouldn’t last under prolonged plasma fire, something Ralph found out when the desk he was hiding behind melted in two from the sustained fire of the elite.

He tried rushing back but both elites saw him and not even the Aegis armor could protect him from that much damage. Several of the scientists threw some flash-bangs towards the elites, but that didn’t seem to do much for them. But the chryssalids were at least distracting them. One chryssalid was chewing on the hand of an elite while the rest were jabbing their razor-sharp claws into the other.

Two more green mutons came in and initially focused their weapons on the soldiers, before a blank look came over them, and instead they raised their weapons towards the elites and fired. The plasma was a lot more effective than claws, it turned out, and the surgical strike against the face killed it relatively quickly and they moved on to the next one.

Jamali looked back to see Vahlen have her hand outstretched towards the skirmish. Yes, she was definitely doing this. Under normal circumstances he’d be very uncomfortable, but right now he was simply grateful. What he did note was that the size of the hallways leading here meant that there wouldn’t be any mechtoids or cyberdisks. So that was something.

A roar sounded from the hallway and another red-armored muton came charging in. But the helmet was different and it had bladed gauntlets on the hands. Oh, that wasn’t good. Vahlen apparently directed the green mutons to focus on the new threat, but the plasma didn’t seem to hurt it the same. It tanked several shots and plunged a bladed fist into the uncovered face of one of the mutons in a shower of yellow.

It immediately yanked it out and repeated a similar procedure with the second muton, its blades clearly made out of a sharp and strong substance to penetrate even the weak points. Jamali looked over to see the chryssalids had finished with the elite and were now leaping on the melee muton which was now flailing around in fury as it tried to throw off the newly attached chryssalids.

Another similar muton also joined the fray, and with no chryssalids to distract it, charged the XCOM line. They all fired at once and the fire seemed to slow initially, but it fixated on Fakhr and leaped at her, stabbing downward. She leapt back just in time, but not quick enough to dodge another bladed arm stab into her side.

She screamed as it raised another fist to finish her off, which it froze. “Kill it!” Vahlen screamed. “I can’t hold it forever!”

Every rifle turned on the alien and the combined force turned its head into dented metal and misshapen tan flesh. It felt back, pulling the blades in Fakhr’s side with it. Jamali dashed forward, med-kit in hand as the chryssalids dealt with the last melee muton. He wasn’t a doctor, but it didn’t look like an artery or something had been hit since the amount of blood coming out wasn’t life-threatening.

“Hold still,” he told her, spraying on the wound. “You’ll be fine.” She groaned as the mist hit her exposed flesh but eventually nodded in confirmation that she was fine. He let out a breath and helped position her against an overturned table facing away from the fighting.

Jamali returned to the situation at hand, and saw a lot of dead aliens, blood-soaked chryssalids and one dead XCOM soldier. But no more aliens. He let out a sigh. That could have been a lot worse. Perhaps weaponized chryssalids wasn’t as idiotic as he’d assumed.

There was silence for a few moments while they reloaded and checked themselves. “I don’t sense any more nearby,” Vahlen finally said, stepping forward. “They probably don’t want to send more down here.”

“Which means they’re attacking somewhere else,” Lesedi pointed out. “I doubt that was the last of them.”

“We should go help someone else,” Lautaro suggested. “Doubtful I was, but those animals probably saved our lives. We need to use them.”

“We don’t move without orders,” Jamali reminded him. “Atlas Protocol specifically states that.”

“I’m contacting the Commander,” Vahlen said, raising a hand. “Hold on.”

She must have disabled her vocoder since it was a couple minutes before she spoke again. “We’re to reinforce Patricia now. Move out,” she turned to her staff. “Hold this position. I doubt they’ll be back, but do whatever you have to.”

“I’ll stay here,” Fakhr groaned, rising. “I’ll only be a hindrance out there. You need healthy soldiers.”

“Understood,” Vahlen nodded. “Protect them and we’ll be back.”

 _That_ was a promise Jamali really looked forward to keeping. Flanking Vahlen, and with the remaining chryssalids in front, they charged toward the Supply Halls.

***

_The Citadel, Supply Halls_

“Here come some more,” Zhang muttered as more aliens came in from the tunnels to the surface. Patricia’s lips curled up as she watched them approach. Most of them were set down right before the open area, and had designed the cover in such a way as to defend against an attack from all sides.

But the aliens coming wouldn’t pose a problem. A few planted orders in the minds of the floaters and suited aliens and they were suddenly fighting each other yet again, while the XCOM soldiers mowed them down with pulse and gauss fire.

This was going well-

Patricia gasped as a wave of pain rushed through all of them. He was here. But now she knew how to defend against this. She first banished the pain from her mind, and focused on disrupting the aura the Ethereal was emitting. Within a few seconds the pain had receded enough for the soldiers to scramble to their feet and Patricia turned to see the Ethereal standing alone, cloaked in his tattered robe.

“Creed…” she said slowly. “Hold off the others. We’ll handle the Ethereal.”

She felt his anxiety, but he understood. He would direct half the soldiers towards pushing back the alien reinforcements while the rest of them fought the Ethereal. “Understood, Overseer.”

“Shoot it,” she growled, striding forward as she felt amusement rippling off it. The soldiers set up began shooting gauss and pulse lasers at the Ethereal, all of which missed or were stopped in mid-air as the Ethereal raised a hand, the fingers relaxed as it easily weathered the storm of fire and bullets.

Annette yelled and drew her right arm back, it encased in purple energy and thrust forward, a beam of purple light jutting out of her hand. With surprising speed the Ethereal stepped to the side and responded by withdrawing its two lower arms and yanking backwards. Garen and Renato were pulled towards the Ethereal and slammed onto the ground in front of it.

Patricia attempted to attack it’s mind directly, pressing the order _delay, delay_ over and over again. But the Ethereal wasn’t weak enough for that to work. It’s arms flared with purple flame and directed the energy on the downed soldiers, warping their bodies beyond any sort of recognition. Annette responded by throwing more bursts of energy at the Ethereal with simply took the smaller shots.

“Foolish child,” it said as it withdrew its lower arms within its robe and directed the extended one towards her. “You cannot hurt me.” Annette was suddenly lifted up and thrown across the room, slamming into the far wall with a clang.

Latrell hissed and unleashed a renewed assault on the Ethereal which simply deflected or caught all the gauss rounds spit from his weapon. Veronika took that opportunity to scoot around for a flank, holding fire until she had a shot. Myra also stepped forward, firing her own weapon. Patricia added her own flavor of attack against the Ethereal, though instead of any pain, she just forced upon him a loud ringing. A disorienting noise that was little more than an annoyance, but distracted him from any sort of surprises.

Patricia really hoped Creed was keeping the other aliens back, because all of them were completely exposed. “You use the tactics of an amateur, Psion,” he hissed, withdrawing an arm in the direction of the flanking Veronika. She gasped and was lifted up, clutching her throat. “You know we do not _sense_ the ordinary world like the unawakened. We _feel_ it. We _feel_ mind. That cannot vanish no matter what sounds you make my physical body hear.” He twisted his wrist and Veronika’s head snapped completely around with an audible _crack_ and her body fell limp to the ground.

Why did she think that would work? She wasn’t dealing with Iosif or Annette, she was dealing with a being who’d mastered this over _decades_. _Centuries_ even. Nevertheless she gritted her teeth and began a renewed attack on his mind, pressing incessantly as the living soldiers kept shooting. He groaned as Myra scored a hit and responded by gathering energy in his hands and thrusting out.

The wave hit Myra and tore off a few vital systems and stripped a thin layer off. Otherwise she appeared fine and responded by firing another barrage of lead at him. At the same time the Ethereal gathered up another ball of energy and sent the result towards her, Leonid and Latrell which she and Latrell managed to get away from.

The ball of energy exploded into a maelstrom similar to Annette’s, only much smaller and only for a few seconds. Unfortunately Leonid was just on the outskirt of the blast and was thrown into the air and landed a few feet away, missing most of his legs and his armor was completely stripped apart.

“Get him medical attention!” She yelled to Creed, hoping he heard while she focused on the Ethereal.

“Your actions are pointless,” the Ethereal stated, motioning to Latrell who was lifted into the air also clutching his throat. “You will not save him anymore than this one.” Another twist of the wrist and Latrell’s neck snapped with a sickening _crack_ and dropped to the ground.

This was getting very, very bad. She renewed her own mental attack, channeling the rage she felt from the deaths of her soldiers into strength.

Then the Ethereal was engulfed in a center of swirling purple energy. A scream of pure hate rang out for the side as Annette walked forward, palms upturned and bent arms outstretched towards the Ethereal. Patricia had believed that she’d been angry before, but it was nothing compared to now. The Aegis armor was corroding under the energy surrounding her body, turning her into an inferno of power.

The Ethereal roared in pain as it resisted the swirling energy as best it could, a faint shield over itself that just barely insulated it from the ravaging bands around her. It was distracted enough that she might be able to isolate his mind. _Disrupt. Disrupt._

Myra charged forward and lowered her wrists towards the Ethereal and the being was then engulfed in flame, only eliciting another otherworldly shriek from the Ethereal as it held all of his arms out in an attempt to staunch the agony. If anything that only made Annette more powerful, and she took another step towards the alien as did Myra.

Then it worked. The shield around itself vanished and it was vulnerable to the attacks. So Patricia listened as it screamed and screamed. She watched as the robe burnt into ash and the helmet became cracked and red-hot. She watched as a limb fell off and blue fluid leaked out from the stump.

But then something changed. She noticed that now the energy wasn’t _hitting_ the Ethereal. But wrapping _around_ it. As if-

“Get back!” She screamed, added some psionic suggestion to her plea.

Too late.

The Ethereal suddenly thrust all his arms forward and sent a cracking wave of energy towards Myra which instantly tore her to pieces. It literally ripped the MEC suit into tiny pieces, nearly vaporizing her completely. Only ensuring that Myra was gone.

That disrupted Annette’s focus and the maelstrom faded for one second and then it was over. For the first time Patricia got a good look at the Ethereal without the robe. Underneath the robe was some kind of gray bodysuit of some kind that ran the length of his body to his feet. It was probably resistant to all kinds of hazards if it managed to survive through that barrage. The arms were spindly and the body seemed unnaturally thin.

Odd how such a frail being contained such power.

Annette was suddenly engulfed in a maelstrom of her own as the Ethereal, sheathed in purple energy raised a hand towards her and she levitated into the air, screaming as the attack was turned back on her. Patricia tried _something_ to disrupt it. She threw every sort of distraction she could. Blindness. Deafness. Pain. But it didn’t deter the Ethereal from continuing his attack.

“A valiant effort, psion,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. “But you simply are not powerful enough.” The energy around Annette compressed and resulted in Annette’s body exploding in a shower of blood, bone and armor. With the threat taken care of, he turned to the last remaining psion.

“You trained them well,” he hissed. “But the students can only be as good as the master, and you, psion Trask, are no master.”

Her vision turned purple as she focused everything she had on the Ethereal and noticed something interesting. Something he was trying to hide.

He was hurt. He was tired.

 _Vulnerable._ She pushed that thought while she stalled. Even after this they could still win. They just needed the Commander to come help. “This isn’t over yet,” she growled, taking a step forward. “You won’t win.”

She could swear it was smiling. “We shall see.”

Her mind was suddenly assaulted with a new barrage of sensations and commands. But she was focused. She could hold out. And she would make this Ethereal pay for what he’d done. All she needed was a little help.

_Commander, I need your help!_

***

_The Citadel, Engineering Bay_

Shen was definitely faithful in his execution of the Atlas Protocol.

All the machinery had been surgically destroyed and had been rearranged into one of the most defendable locations Abby had seen in the Citadel. Each choke point was manned by at least two engineering staff, operating either a portable turret or flamethrower. Scattered through the defended area were also some kind of small automated turret that hovered a few feet off the ground.

She hadn’t been aware stuff like that had even been discussed, let alone put into production. Though Shen had said it was experimental, so there was that. She was near the back of the line, intending to use her pulse rifle as a sniping weapons of sorts thanks to her enhanced eyesight. Near the front were the rest of the soldiers.

The two North Koreans, Areum and Chan were in the second line of cover while Gyeong and Timur were up front. Thais, the Brazilian soldier was a bit off to the side, but all of them were ready and waiting for the attack. If Mission Control had fallen, then they would be here soon.

She hoped Zhang was alright, especially since the Ethereal was likely headed for Patricia.

Abby also knew that they were somewhat at a disadvantage if they faced a severe assault. They didn’t have a psion or a MEC if things really got bad. This place was easily defendable, but that would only last so long, especially if a psion showed up. Well, she had no intention of being mind-controlled today.

“I hear something!” Areum called out, raising a fist. “Ready weapons!”

“So it begins,” Shen said softly from the back. The elderly engineer was in a suit of Aegis armor, which was admittedly an odd sight for her. The helmet helped a bit, but it couldn’t disguise the fact that the suit was made for a soldier and not an elderly person. He was still going to help, but she didn’t expect his contributions to be great. This was not his area of expertise.

She really hoped Lily was somewhere safe. Shen had assured her his daughter was hidden, and there were plenty of places for a kid to hide in a place like the Citadel. Removing all thoughts of Lily, Abby returned to focusing on the oncoming attack.

Something banged against the door. Then it did it again. The Engineering bay was utterly silent.

Until it was shattered by the door being blown apart. Green plasma fire spat out from the smoke towards the line of soldiers who immediately began returning fire. The two automated flame turrets Shen had set up near the door began spitting out thin bursts of flame and Abby heard roars of pain as they effectively secured the first choke point.

Timur tossed a grenade into the area and another squeal reached her ears as the grenade found a victim. The rest of the soldiers were all firing into the smoke, even if they couldn’t see anything, they were still hitting things. Finally a massive muton elite burst through, blood already leaking from wounds and holes in the once-pristine armor.

It immediately swatted down the flaming turrets with ease and began focusing laying down suppressive fire on the initial line, forcing Gyeong and Timur to get down. Her turn. She aimed at the knee of the elite and fired a sustained beam from her pulse rifle. The drilling took a few seconds, but the muton finally collapsed to the ground as the knee was effectively gone. Gyeong rolled a grenade by its head and even the armor couldn’t protect it under that strain.

But its death had allowed the aliens to mount something of an offensive against them. Three outsiders rushed in, followed by four normal mutons. There was a lack of cover, so most of the mutons died immediately from the first volley, but the outsiders lived and began firing at the first line.

Abby aimed at the farthest one, and fired at its head. The beam immediately began drilling and shattered the head a few seconds later as the outsider failed to react in time to the beam. They apparently weren’t acquainted with pulse weaponry yet. Thais and Areum targeted the second one while the rest focus-fired the final one until it was disintegrating into nothing.

But of course that wasn’t the end. Two more elites walked through, already firing and in the middle was one of the outsider leaders, who stood almost as tall as the behemoth mutons themselves. As it began laying down suppressive fire from its own cannon, one of the elites pulled out a grenade and tossed it towards the front line.

“Grenade!” Chan shouted, as Gyeong and Timur leapt to the side, but not quite out of the reach from the radius. She could see both of them bleeding from leg injuries, but still very much alive. They nodded to each other and reached for the grenades attached to their belts and threw them behind the cover, forcing the mutons to move a bit.

One nearly blasted the leg of an elite off, while both hit the outsider. Abby saw her chance and aimed again at its head while the others focused on the elites. It was still taking a few seconds, but eventually her laser drilled a hole straight through its head and it fell to the ground, dissolving like paper in flame.

Now she needed to remember her training. Taking advantage of the cover the second line provided, she dashed towards the wounded soldiers and quickly slid to Gyeong first, for once thankful that she wasn’t wearing that much armor. One look at his leg told her that he was fine. The Aegis armor had absorbed the worst of the blast and prevented too much shrapnel from being lodged in his body. A med-kit would fix it.

“Good throw,” she complimented as she sprayed. “Alright, you’ll be fine!”

Without waiting for a response she then dashed over to Timur, taking a second to fire a brief pulse blast at the remaining muton before ducking down again to focus on Timur. She bit her lip as she saw the damage. Yeah, his leg was bent and warped at such an angle that she was skeptical that it could be fixed. The med-kit would stave off any potential death, but it would need a proper surgery to really assess the damage. “Don’t move your leg,” she warned while she sprayed the blue mist on it. “It’s in bad enough shape as it is.”

“Got it, doc,” he affirmed weakly.

 _Doc_. Been awhile since she’d been called that. Well for better or worse she was on the front line and felt she should stay here until it ended one way or another. It felt like the old days of being on the front lines, before intelligence work had made her life so complicated. She took her position and her heart sank as another muton elite, and some new suited alien joined the mix.

She quickly looked back. Four soldiers not including her left, as well as the engineering staff, though they were mostly providing supporting fire and nothing substantial. She was worried that wouldn’t be enough. But she still aimed and fired her weapon at the wounded muton, which simply roared and unleashed a barrage of plasma at her, which flew over her head, but directly towards Areum’s position.

It only took one hit and she stumbled back. But now the other elite had noticed her and added its fire to the other one, while the suited alien also fired a lance of green plasma at her. The Aegis armor was good, but even it couldn’t hold against the sustained fire of two elites and…whatever this thing was. Abby knew the moment her body hit the floor that she was dead and there was nothing she could do.

Three soldiers. They might not actually make it out of this one.

But she was going to go down fighting.

She raised her pulse rifle and fired yet another sustained beam on the elite which then focused its massive weapon on her. She gritted her teeth as green plasma flew around her. No. She was going to kill this thing.

Her perseverance paid off and the muton roared, stumbling back as it clutched its chest. And then something strange happened. The suited alien suddenly raised a fist at the other elite that was targeting Chan and Thais, and shot out a green mist. It must have been an acid of some kind since the armor immediately began corroding, adding to the alien screaming in pain.

She blinked. _The hell_?

“Focus on the wounded one!” Thais yelled, firing her gauss weapon on the one Abby had been whittling down. Abby agreed and added her pulse weapon to the barrage. She’d focus on the strange turn of events later. Big the elites were, but fast or graceful they were not and thus it soon succumbed to the combined firepower of four soldiers and an unknown number of engineers.

The remaining elite had unloaded its plasma weapon into the green transparent helmet of the new alien. The material burst with a hiss and out slumped a strange brown-skinned alien that looked like it was in the process of burning. That was odd, could it-

The suit stood up and aimed its weapon at the soldiers again. Alright, change of plans. Then she heard it. The roar of chryssalids. She felt sick, knowing that they didn’t really have much of a chance now. Not with both a surviving elite and a robot suit.

 _Why did it have to be chryssalids_?

Armor still steaming from the acid mist, the elite began firing again and she fired her pulse weapon up, hoping the integrity of the armor had been weakened. Then out came the chryssalids, even bigger than she remembered. But they didn’t charge her. They charged the muton and began biting and stabbing it.

She watched in disbelief as the chryssalids began systematically tearing the alien apart, wondering if she’d actually died and this was some weird fever dream. The suit was still up, but it suddenly turned around as gauss fire from behind it sounded, and Abby had never been happier to hear anything else in her life.

It fired a few more plasma lances in the direction, but it gave her enough time to toss a grenade of her own. Probably in the interior would be the best. She stood and threw, and watched elatedly as it landed directly in the control area of the suit and exploded. Whatever it did, it worked apparently and the suit fell to the ground, sparking and dead.

The yellow coated chryssalids roared and chittered as they ate the elite which had stopped moving. Abby still had her weapon trained on them, wondering how long it would take them to turn hostile. “Don’t shoot them!” She looked up to see Vahlen and several other soldiers coming towards her.

“They’re friendly,” one of the soldiers explained. “Science project. But it works.”

Oh, so this was Vahlen’s doing. Under normal circumstances…well, no, she wasn’t surprised. If anyone would have the gall to think growing their own chryssalids was a good idea, it would happen in the twisted brain of Dr. Vahlen. But right now she had to thank the mad scientist. “Your pets saved us,” she said with a brief nod. “Good job.”

“The Ethereal is headed for Patricia,” Vahlen explained breathlessly. “We need to reinforce her and the Commander.”

“Got it,” Abby nodded, waving the surviving soldiers forward. “Are there any more?”

“Not that I can sense,” Vahlen said. “It’s all by the Supply Halls and up above. Carmelita is leading an attack on the UFO that landed.”

Was she now? Well that would explain why the attack wasn’t as strong as it could have been. “Then we should head there now, especially if an Ethereal is close.”

“Agreed,” Vahlen nodded. “Take what soldiers you have and let’s go.”

Abby almost snorted. It seemed Vahlen didn’t realize she wasn’t the one in charge. “I’ll stay and protect them,” Chan said. “Take Thais.”

Well there wasn’t much of a choice. Vahlen’s team now had a grand two extra soldiers to help bolster its forces. “Lead the way,” she told Vahlen. “Let’s finish this.”

***

_The Citadel, Hangar_

“I’m not sure of this,” Nartha said slowly as he stood in the front of the skyranger ramp, Iosif in front of him and Shun to his side. Blake, Carmelita, Iida, Jerra and Apis behind him. Nartha was fully expecting an ambush on the surface which admittedly was what Iosif was there for.

“Well, the alternative is staying in here,” Shun shrugged. “Let’s make the aliens a little uneasy, yes?”

Nartha sighed, but still gripped his weapon securely.

 _“Taking off now,”_ Big Sky informed. _“Be ready Iosif.”_

“Will do,” the Russian psion confirmed, the air around him already distorted.

Nartha felt the skyranger life slowly, and resisted the urge to look down and see how high up they were rising. But the transition up was surprisingly painless and all of them were greeted by the sight of snow, alien barricades and the UFO transport in the distance. A small rectangular purple shield appeared in front of them as the skyranger hovered over solid ground.

Nartha quickly took stock of the situation. All the barricades were taken by the smaller mutons, and in between most of them was a mechtoid or cyberdisk. Two of each in total. Doable. Plasma fire went flew in their direction, but most missed or was absorbed by Iosif’s barricades.

“Deploy!” He yelled and they charged out into the snow and through the storm of green. They spread out, Nartha already taking aim at one of the mutons and fired. The beam hit the face squarely and it fell back. One down.

“Suppressive fire!” Iida called, falling to one knee and targeting the mechtoid which was aiming at Carmelita. It worked and the nimble woman slid into cover, blasting the two mutons to pulpy flesh with her alloy cannon before turning to the bigger threats.

Nartha and Shun also took cover behind the alien barricade and began focusing one of the cyberdisks which was returning fire with mechanical ease. Carmelita was also being pinned down by one of the mechtoids and more mutons were rushing out. No elites though, Nartha noted, which either meant they’d run out, or they were holding them in reserve.

“Watch your flank!” Shun yelled toward Apis as a mechtoid suddenly charged forward and cornered the soldier. Before they could do anything, it unleashed a devastating barrage into him and the soldier fell to the ground, staining the fresh snow around him with blood.

But that opened up the mechtoid to an attack by Jerra and he, which both of them took which added a few new holes and scorches to the gray armor. _“Reinforcements are here,”_ the voice of Gray Sky said, and Nartha glanced behind him to see two MECs charging their position. A sight for sore eyes.

The cyberdisks immediately began focusing on the oncoming threat, spitting golden projectiles from their barrels. Unfortunately for them, Iosif took the opportunity to place single-facing shields before the MECs, negating any sort of effect they might have had. Nartha raised his weapon and fired directly at one of the cyberdisks, with Shun targeting just below him.

They must have hit something vital because the cyberdisk exploded brilliantly a few seconds later and forced the other two nearby to retract into their disk shells. None of them wanted to advance, but for now they held a pretty good position, and now the MECs were here. Sanya raised his right arm, a rocket clicked into place, and he fired towards one of the mechtoids, which tried to stumble away but failed miserably as the rocket collided perfectly with the alien in a shower of metal and blood.

 _“Reinforcements have arrived,”_ Big Sky stated as the second wave of XCOM soldiers hit the field. Nartha grinned at that. The tables had turned in their favor quite dramatically.

“Advance!” Iida yelled, waving her arm forward and all of the shouted an affirmative and charged up towards the next line of barriers. The cyberdisks had retreated to the mouth of the UFO and had redeployed and were raining fire on the MECs once more. The eight or so mutons were also aiming at the front line, namely _him_.

“Amahle! Take out the line!” Iosif commanded as he gathered energy in his hands to create another shield.

“Affirmative,” she acknowledged and charged to the muton line, protected by Iosif’s purple barrier surrounding her. Luckily the Citadel had plenty of fuel for her flamethrowers, so she was in no danger of running out anytime soon. A fact Nartha suspected Amahle would have enjoyed had she not been stripped of emotions.

But even still, the sight of a line of mutons being cooked in their own armor was beautiful, even more so when one of the cyberdisks was soon blown out of the sky by a friendly rocket from their reinforcements. That left….one cyberdisk and one mechtoid. All the mutons were dead or dying and with all the XCOM soldiers focusing on the cyberdisk, it soon went down in pieces of scrap.

Sanya charged the final mechtoid and slammed the wounded alien to the ground, pinning it with his foot, while raising the other one over its face and stamping down hard. It took a few tries, but the mechtoid’s face was soon reduced to pulp in the snow.

A relative silence fell over the battlefield, save for the whistling wind.

“Nearly a clean sweep,” Carmelita commented as they converged at the mouth of the transport, which had a dark and foreboding interior. Nartha look a closer look at the inside. Strap stands. Definitely a troop transport, and judging by the side, they were almost out of troops.

“They’ll still have a guard,” Nartha said. “But it won’t be a large one.”

Carmelita swung her head to him. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“Hey, he knows the ships better than you,” Shun defended walking up.

“Because he’s an-“

“Enough!” Iosif commanded, raising a hand, turning to him. “You know the ship? Then what should we expect?”

Alright. He could work with this. “It’s a troop transport for sure,” he explained, pointing to the line of poles and straps. “See those? They strap mutons to them during the flight since they don’t get exhausted standing up. Saves space, and has plenty of room for more forces. I’m guessing the majority of outsiders came from the Raider UFOs since they don’t number many on large ships like this.”

“Got it,” Iosif nodded. “But what will be inside?”

“A sectoid likely,” he answered slowly. “Normally it’s of the pilot variety since it doesn’t take much skill to fly. But they may have sent a Hive Commander for this one. But inside we’ll likely face sectoids and maybe some mutons since the main force is dead.”

“Good to know,” he agreed, then turned to face the small army of XCOM soldiers behind him. “Listen up! We’re going to sweep this UFO _thoroughly_. Be on guard and weapons up! Report _anything_ out of the ordinary. There is a possibility we’ll be facing a Hive Commander, so realize that your thoughts might not be your own. Understood?”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted in response.

“Then advance in an orderly fashion,” Iosif ordered, raising his weapon and beginning the march forward into the UFO. Nartha followed close behind, Shun at his side as they prepared to take the ship, or die trying.

***

_The Citadel, Hallways_

The Commander and the soldiers behind him charged furiously forward, the clock ticking down with each second they spent getting to Patricia. She was in trouble, the Commander could even sense the immense power being used ahead. But the Citadel was a big place, and even the fastest routes would still take time.

“Your right!” Mavern called suddenly and they swung their weapons to two regular mutons together with a mechtoid. They quickly took up positions along the walls as the aliens began shooting plasma at them. The Commander scowled as the deadly projectiles flew past his head. They didn’t have time for this.

“Samuel! Suppress them!” He called.

Samuel nodded and swung out, sending a hail of gauss rounds at the aliens. “Go!”

“Focus the mechtoid!” The Commander ordered, and all of them aimed at the machine-alien hybrid while ravaging the chassis with laser and lead. The mechtoid stumbled back, but managed to return fire at them. Jona fell back as a plasma burst clipped her leg.

“I’m fine!” She yelled while pushing herself out of the line of fire, though the pain was evident in her voice. But little he could do about that now. That mechtoid needed to die, as did the mutons. But the combined fire was enough and the center of the mechtoid exploded and fell back with a long groan of ruined metal.

Samuel focused his fire now at one of the mutons which withered under the onslaught and fell back, leaking yellow fluid from many holes in its body. With one remaining, the Commander wanted to try something. He gathered his power once more and focused the energy around the muton, direction the pressure specifically around its neck.

He raised a fist to stop firing as he stepped out of cover and concentrated more intently on the now struggling muton. It had thrown it’s rifle down and was clutching at its throat, roaring and wasting more air as it tried frantically to figure out why it was choking. His hand in a pincer position, the Commander pinched a little tighter, knowing a little more would be enough to crush the windpipe.

But he didn’t have time to experiment with this. He closed his hand into a fist, Crushing the windpipe, and essentially the entire neck, all at once and turned to let the muton die while experiencing utter agony for the last few moments of it’s life.

He let the power fade away and rushed back to Jona who was propped against the wall. “Can you walk?” He asked.

“Doubt it,” she wheezed. “Go on! I’ll be fine!”

Under normal circumstances he would have refused to leave her behind. But the longer they delayed, the greater chance they’d all die anyway. “Stay low then,” he instructed. “Everyone else follow!”

They shouted an affirmative and they continued charging through the base. The Commander wondered how long it would be until reinforcements showed up. Even if the United States wouldn’t be able to provide _much,_ it would help with clearing out the base. But as things stood, this fight was going to be decided long before they arrived.

They rounded another corner and he suddenly sensed a very familiar presence. _Vahlen_. Ah right, she was also coming. Best to meet up with her beforehand. He then altered his path to coincide where she’d likely be. Telepathic contact would have been preferred, but unfortunately that wasn’t his specialty. But it was Vahlen’s, and she had to be sensing him coming.

His assertion proved true as he sensed her stop, even if she wasn’t telepathically communicating, he knew exactly where she was now. Only a few steps forward…

They rounded another corner and were greeted by the sight of XCOM soldiers with chryssalids. “Shit!” Samuel yelled, raising his autorifle as he spotted the aliens.

“Hold fire!” The Commander instructed immediately. “They’re friendly!”

Vahlen and Abby, surprisingly, came running up. It was almost the inverse of what he’d been expecting from them. Vahlen was in the armor while Abby was not. “What do you mean they’re _friendly_?” Yaseen asked incredulously.

“One of Vahlen’s experiments,” the Commander summed up. “Looks like it’s worked so far.”

“Even better than I’d hoped,” Vahlen confirmed with a bit too much excitement. “The chryssalids are-“

“We’ll discuss it later,” the Commander interrupted. “We need to get to Patricia!”

“The Ethereal is up ahead,” Vahlen pointed. “Let’s hurry.”

They dashed off while the Commander tuned his frequency to Iosif. “What’s your status Iosif?”

 _“Beginning our assault on the transport,”_ he answered. _“Exterior is secure and we’re moving inward. Nartha doesn’t expect much heavy resistance, though there is a possibility of a Hive Commander.”_

Good. “Excellent job,” he complimented. “We’re nearly at Patricia now. Good luck.”

_“You too, Commander.”_

Satisfied with the current progress above, the Commander prepared to go into what might be his final battle.

***

_Outskirts of the Citadel_

The UFO hummed quietly as the soldiers made their way through the desolate ship. Nartha knew it was the elerium cores that gave the impression that the ship was ‘pulsing’ but he could attest to the fact that it was disconcerting. Most of the soldiers were in the deployment bay, and were climbing the two ramps on the sides to enter the second part of the UFO.

The entrances deeper into the UFO were blocked by the multi-colored shields, so Carmelita had set up the soldiers on respective sides before they gave the order to go inside. She and Yeva were on the far left entrance, he and Shun were on the far right, and Iosif and Iida were in the middle, with more soldiers filling the nearby walls or right behind them. The MEC troopers were also standing by, waiting for the order to go in.

“Now,” Iosif muttered and touched the shield. Nartha did the same and it receded with a buzz to reveal a medium-sized room with another depression in the middle. But this room wasn’t empty, there was a mix of sectoids and…Vitakara in the mix. Borelians to be specific, which was sadly not a surprise since their fur made them ideal for colder climates, not to mention they were excellent soldiers.

“Go! Go!” Iida shouted and the initial wave charged in, Nartha and Shun sliding into cover behind the short barriers that overlooked the depression. The air around them was instantly filled with plasma, lasers and lead as the sectoids and Borelians reacted. Nartha was once more reminded of just how poor the mutons really were at strategy compared to a more intelligent species.

The sectoids immediately scurried back while the Borelians immediately took cover behind nearby pods and began laying down suppressive fire with the intent to allow the weaker sectoids to escape. Borelians really were intimidating when it came down to it. Especially ones covered in silver armor which obscured most of their fur, though the helmets were designed in such a way as to leave their faces open, since covering them interfered with their senses.

Nartha got a quick look at the numbers as more XCOM soldiers ran into cover and began returning fire. Eight sectoids? Excluding the ones killed in the initial attack, and roughly fourteen Borelians. He raised his rifle and fired a quick burst on a Borelian behind a pod, trying to get a better look at them.

All over seven feet, with incisors. Yep, all females and likely from an elite detachment. He tried to view the insignia, but none of them seemed particularly interested in making it visible. He sighed and ducked back into cover. He’d known this was going to happen, but it still felt wrong to fight his own species, even if it was for the right reasons.

Two Borelians were cut down by XCOM pulse weapons, but they responded by making a strategic retreat to the second upper deck which lead to the Command pod. One threw a device towards several of the soldiers and he instantly recognized what it was. “Cryo grenade!” he yelled as it headed toward where Yeva and Cheng were, then realized it didn’t matter since it was the _advanced_ variant that emitted a freezing effect _while_ it was being thrown before exploding in a shower of frost.

It then had the effect of freezing them in place while trying to get away, making them easy targets for Borelian soldiers. Yeva’s head exploded into chunks and Cheng was also ripped apart by concentrated fire. The only good news out of this was that was probably the only one they had, and it allowed Amahle to charge forward into the plasma fire and execute two Borelians.

The sectoids were also trying to put up a fight, though their attacks weren’t doing much with Iosif nearby. Nartha raised his rifle, took a brief second to aim at the bulbous head and fired. The red beam melted a nice hole and it fell dead. A second one was taken out by Shun.

Sanya’s MEC froze in place and another smaller missile box popped up from his shoulder and unleashed several more micro-missiles on the entrenched position of the Borelians and sectoids. The ones who weren’t killed from the blasts were taken out by the deadly maze of laser and gauss fire that saturated their now-exposed positions.

Amahle charge further up the line and stopped right to the side of where the aliens were still holding position. But this time she only raised one wrist and blasted the surviving aliens with a continuous burst of flame, walking forward slowly and deliberately, roasting each alien alive while sweeping her arm back and forth.

The two Borelians that ran to the opposite side were met by Sanya who blew one of their heads off with his rifle, picked up the other struggling one easily by the head and crushed it before throwing the corpse to the side. The battlefield fell silent one more, except for the crackling of fire and pulsing of the elerium cores.

Nartha reloaded and cautiously made his way down into the depression along with several other soldiers. He stepped over the mutilated corpses, only kneeling before one of the Borelians to look at the patch on her arm. He pursed his lips once he saw it. What he expected, but it was still depressing to see.

“You alright?” Shun asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“I suppose,” he sighed, standing back up. “These are Lurainian, special forces of the Vitakara. Makes sense why they’d be here.”

“How do you know?” She asked, looking down at the corpse.

“That patch on their arm,” he said, pointing. “Only the Lurainian bear it, not to mention I’d know it anyway since I suspect all the soldiers are female.”

“Does that make a difference?” She asked as they walked to inspect one of the pods.

“A big one,” Nartha confirmed, looking over the pod which he suspected had been used to transport the muton elites. “Borelians have strict standards, the Vitakarian Lurainian even more so. Males generally aren’t soldiers to begin with, and unless something big has happened, male Borelians in the Lurainian are unheard of.”

“Fascinating stuff,” Carmelita said, walking up. “But do you know what these are?”

Nartha pointed at the pods, indicating the tubes. “I think these were used to transport the elites. Probably for sedation or injecting them with drugs. Though there seem to be too few to really account for the number.”

Iida was also observing one of the pods. “Hold that thought,” she said slowly, raising a hand. “You said sedation?”

Nartha frowned, but nodded. “Yes, it’s possible.”

“And there aren’t enough for all the elites we saw,” she continued. “However…”

“What do you think?” Iosif asked, looking towards the Command pod ahead.

“Those other mutons,” Iida continued. “The berserkers. They seemed…unhinged and immune to pain. Maybe that’s what these were for?”

Hm. The woman was smart, and that did make sense, especially due to the limited number. “Good theory.”

“Agreed,” Iosif nodded. “But irrelevant now, we still-“

A hot spike of pain drove into his head, causing him to hear ringing and he raised a hand to his helmet out of instinct. _You have come far enough, XCOM._ A voice in his own language said in his mind.

A Hive Commander.

Shun came to the same conclusion. “Hive Commander,” she said hesitantly. “We-“

“Hurry!” Iosif ordered, motioning for them to charge forward. “We need to kill it now!”

Nartha couldn’t agree more and followed his charge as they ran towards the Command pod, trying to ignore the stabbing in his brain. They stormed through the final barriers and saw the Hive Commander standing in front of a massive console at the end of the UFO that stretched from end to end. The level he and the XCOM soldiers were standing on led to another depression of consoles and piloting equipment, while the level the Hive Commander was standing on was just slightly elevated above that.

There were eight sectoids also in the room, all busy with tasks, but the full attention of the Hive Commander was on them. It raised a spindly finger towards them as they began firing.

It responded by raising another hand and surrounding itself with a purple shield, turning the lasers away and stopping the gauss rounds in their tracks. “It’s in my, arg!” Jerra shouted, raising a shaky weapon towards Karen who would have died if Jerra hadn’t been tackled to the ground by Iida, who subdued the struggling woman easily. The MEC charged in, while Carmelita jumped down the middle and began raining havoc on the unprotected sectoid pilots who suddenly realized they were going to die and struggled frantically to get away.

Nartha also jumped down and severed the head of a fleeing sectoid with a brief pulse of his weapon. The Hive Commander gestured towards Amahle and a faint wave shot out and blew her back off the platform. No damage though, and she was back up in a few seconds. The Hive Commander then turned its full attention to Sanya who was firing his massive cannon at the frail creature.

It resisted, then gestured and the MEC was also blown back a few feet and thrown off balance. It quickly turned toward the line of soldiers and the air around it’s head flared and several dropped to the ground limply. Sleep. That was it, Hive Commanders weren’t powerful enough to kill with that little effort. But it was great at putting enemies out of condition.

But even if couldn’t hold out against the continuous amount of fire being sent it’s way from the additional soldiers rushing in to take the place of the incapacitated. Carmelita jumped up to the second platform where the Hive Commander stood and fired several blasts from her alloy cannon.

If the alien could have scowled, Nartha knew it would have. Carmelita fell to one knee as the Hive Commander directed it’s power on her, but she strangely wasn’t succumbing and Nartha saw why. From the XCOM line Iosif was standing up and reaching toward her position, surrounding her in a cocoon of protection, mentally and physically he assumed.

Now the MECs were back and Nartha could see the barrier around the Hive Commander was flickering and would fall eventually. With a frustrated screech it shuffled back as both MECs and protected soldier closed in. Amahle raised her wrists once more and shot out a cone of blue flame which engulfed the small orange alien.

Nartha also jumped up and added his own sustained weapon to the attack. Then when it finally broke, it experienced a painful and quick death. It’s body was immolated by the flames, while a blast from Carmelita’s cannon turned it’s head to mush, Sanya blew it’s chest apart with his weapon and Nartha’s own laser added to Carmelita’s damage, not to mention the flurry of gauss rounds that also riddled it’s body from the XCOM line.

All of them ceased and lowered their weapons, just making sure that Hive Commander was really dead. Nartha walked over and looked down at the charred corpse. Yep. Really dead. “I think that’s it,” he said slowly. “We did it.”

“We did,” Carmelita agreed, turning to him. “Thank you.”

Nartha didn’t think she’d ever forgive him entirely, but getting that at least meant progress, and if she felt he was reliable enough to say that…well, it was good to hear.

“Alright! We need to sweep the rest of the UFOs for stragglers,” Iosif commanded back from the line. “But we’ve won! The Hive Commander is dead!”

The soldiers cheered and whooped at that, though Nartha knew that they hadn’t won yet. They wouldn’t truly win until they heard that the Ethereal was dead. Carmelita seemed to have the same idea. “Go reinforce Patricia,” she told Amahle and Sanya. “See if you can still help them.”

They nodded and charged off. While Nartha doubted they’d arrive in time to make a difference, sending the MECs was the best idea. Regular soldiers would just be killed, but psions seemed to have trouble with MECs for some reason. Anything that would help.

They may have won here, but it all rested on Patricia and the Commander now.

***

_The Citadel, Supply Halls_

It only took a few seconds after they charged into the room for the Commander to get a full idea of the situation. Around half of Patricia’s soldiers, including Zhang, were still alive and focused on the aliens still coming in from the surface, though that number seemed to be dwindling. The rest were either corpses, or not anywhere at all.

Annette was nowhere to be seen, but he had to assume she was dead. Patricia was encased in a light psionic field as she appeared to be in a staring contest with the Ethereal, who actually seemed wounded. The robe was gone and one arm was severed, but that didn’t stop the alien emanating pure energy.

The Commander growled as a wave of pain washed over him, but he knew it was a weak effect of being in the Ethereal’s presence and recalled how Patricia had blocked it. The Ethereal looked up at they stormed in, and the soldiers immediately began firing.

Vahlen rippled with psionic energy of her own, and raised her arm in the direction of the Ethereal who screamed and gestured towards the mass of soldiers. “Kill them all!” It roared as several of his soldiers fell to a knee, clutching their helmets as the psionic command echoed in their minds. It was weak enough that the Commander was able to resist it, but not for the others.

Maven sleepily raised his rifle and blasted Samuel in the head at point-blank range while Yaseen executed Lautaro with a quick shot to the head. The remaining soldiers quickly scrambled to deal with the mind-controlled operatives including the Commander who stepped back and just barely missed a shot from a mind-controlled Thais.

But he was in a bad position now and both knew it. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she had no such hesitation and kept firing. He focused his telepathic powers on the rifle and pulled, the rifle flew out of her hands and he extended his right arm to the side to throw it away. Unfortunately she’d anticipated that and with her left hand reached for her pulse pistol and fired a sustained beam up near his arm, neatly severing the limb in one fell swoop.

White-hot pain flooded his body, and he gasped as the stump cauterized a second later. No more time to delay. He couldn’t save her unless he wanted to die. With his left arm he directed his power onto Thais, using the pain as a source of strength for him and twisted sharply, cracking her neck with quick twist.

Hissing in agony, he turned back to see how the rest of the fight was progressing. The mind-controlled soldiers were dead, either from the Ethereal or allied fire. But now everyone was focusing on the Ethereal since there were no more aliens coming in from the tunnels.

The Ethereal gathered up more energy in his hands and thrust them out in multiple direction. The Commander jumped over the railing onto the lower floor to avoid one of the devastating waves. Vahlen also ducked out of the way and the other soldiers did the same or leapt onto the floor with him.

Patricia was beginning to walk slowly towards the Ethereal, slowly and deliberately and Vahlen followed suit, psionic energy rippling off them as they directed their telepathic powers on the Ethereal. “You are weakened,” Patricia stated. “You cannot win now.”

“ _No!”_ It roared, raising a hand and all the non-psions fell to the floor screaming. It took everything in the Commander to not succumb to the imaginary pain debilitating the others, but he managed it and turned that into his own source of power. He thrust out his good hand and directed it around the Ethereal and _pushed_.

It took a step back, roaring as the attacks from Patricia and Vahlen seemingly got more intense. The remaining MEC, Franklin also dashed over pulling his fist back in a wind-up punch and slammed his metal fist fully into the Ethereal’s damaged helm.

 _That_ threw the Ethereal back which the Commander added to by pushing while he was in mid-air, then slamming the Ethereal into the far wall with enough force to leave a small impact. It howled and Franklin was suddenly lifted into the air, his weapons and suit sparking as they folded in on themselves.

The cocoon of purple light around Patricia flared and Franklin was suddenly dropped, still functional, but damaged. The Commander kept pinning the Ethereal to the wall, making it unable to lift his hands to assist with the retaliation. All of them kept walking forward slowly, never letting up on their continuous assault.

But if it wasn’t decided soon, they were going to run dry. He was slowly losing his grip on the Ethereal, and the being was still trying to disrupt his mind, albeit weakly since he was also fighting off attacks from Vahlen and Patricia. With a scream unlike any he’d heard, the Ethereal was suddenly enveloped in a ball of purple light, uncontrolled energy spewing from the body.

But it was fighting his telekinetic hold on his body, it weakly raised an arm and Franklin’s suit was engulfed in deadly shards of purple energy that began ripping the suit apart. The Commander applied another attempted thrust to his telekinesis and succeeded in driving the arm down, making the energy around Franklin disappear.

The purple waves of energy that were emanating from the Ethereal were acting as a force field, making it difficult for anyone to get close to it. Which meant that they were close to killing it. They _had_ to be. They _had_ to!

But Franklin persisted, taking one step forward into the fray, then another. The Ethereal fell to one knee howling in pain from the relentless assaults. His suit being torn apart from the wild energy, Franklin still raised a fist and slammed down into the Ethereal’s head. The helmet was molded into a misshapen shape, and Franklin raised his fist again and struck down.

The energy flared and the hand disintegrated in the flash, but Franklin still had one good one. No more punching this time. Instead he reached into the fray and grabbed the Ethereal by helmet and lifted it several feet off the ground. The Commander sustained the grasp, pinning his arms to his sides while Franklin squeezed.

Blue Ethereal blood leaked out from under the helm and with one final crunch, the Ethereal’s body emitted a shockwave that ripped Franklin’s suit almost in half and shredded his remaining arm before throwing him well across the room.

Then there was silence.

The Commander finally let the telekinetic field drop and the power drain away as exhaustion overtook him. His vision turned blurry, but he stumbled forward, having to confirm it had really happened. Vahlen and Patricia also had walked over and looked over the alien.

The helmet didn’t resemble anything more than misshapen metal now firmly mixed with flesh and bone. Whatever face the Ethereal had was gone, crush beneath unforgiving steel. Blue blood pooled around the body, and the skin now wept blue fluid from dozens of wounds on the arms. But there was no mistaking it.

“It’s dead,” Patricia confirmed numbly. “It’s dead.”

Joy. Relief. Elation. He experienced all those things all at once, and he was too tired to care if they were even his own emotions. But it didn’t matter. Vahlen immediately embraced him and he returned it strongly, neither of them caring at the point that he was missing a hand. All that would come later.

“We did it,” he said, still in shock and some disbelief. “We killed an Ethereal.”

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Ashes and Temples

List of the Fallen:

-Andreas Amsing

-John Bradford

-Renato Caio

-Herman Diederick

-Peter Van Doorn

-Annette Durand

-Cheng Esther

-Areum Gujoian

-Orvil Halette

-Yeva Hurik

-Maven Lane

-Vivian Li

-Calebe Luan

-Lautaro Maetan

-Jae Man-Tu

-Apis Montu

-Latrell Moreau

-Duygu Nur

-Enzo Pietro

-Endre Pridan

-Samuel Roche

-Myra Rodriguez

-Zerren Saygin

-Colanar Sanger

-Garen Sevan

-Golan Shani

-Yaseen Shon

-Veronika Slava

-Han Su Hon

-Perrie Tarot

-Ralph Tritagor

-Thais Vitor

-Romed Virgil

 -Cai Wong


	43. Hephaestus

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

Thirty-four soldiers dead, eight more wounded. That was half his fighting force down again, not counting the few dozen non-combative personnel who’d died defending their respective stations. In percentages, it roughly chalked up that about a third of XCOM personnel had died, while perhaps a sixth were injured and currently receiving treatment.

And in return for all that?

Just over one-fifty various alien corpses, including elites, the new suited ones, and an Ethereal. Not to mention two Raider-class UFOs, one Overseer-class and one Transport-class. That, and they were still breathing, still keeping the defense alive. XCOM had faced the deadliest the Ethereals had to offer and had come out not only alive, but stronger than before.

Brutal as it sounded, everything could be replaced. He wished more could have lived, but all of them knew that the chances of death were high ever since the Atlas Protocol had been put into effect. Losing two MEC soldiers and two psions was a blow, not to mention Van Doorn and Bradford.

The Commander sighed at that thought. He’d been optimistic that they could have survived, but he supposed alone against an Ethereal, any of them would have died. Even with every psion and a MEC giving everything they had, it had barely been enough. Still, he was going to ensure that each fallen soldier got proper treatment for their sacrifice.

Those details still needed to be worked out. Extensively. But at the moment they had to keep working, keep moving. If the clock somehow hadn’t been ticking before, it certainly was now. If Patricia had interpreted this Imperator correctly, they’d passed the final test and that meant an invasion was coming, and right now, they were in no shape to fight.

He doubted the Ethereals would launch another attack so soon, especially with the US military now defending the base. The Marines had assisted in wiping out any alien stragglers in the base, and together with the surviving XCOM forces, had secured the Citadel within four hours. Of course, this now presented a problem.

The Citadel was compromised completely. The United States government knew, and it was only a matter of time before it was leaked. Not to mention the aliens knew as well. So there was only two options: Stay and rebuild, or find somewhere else.

Fortunately, that was what the Hephaestus Contingency was for.

His new hand whirred and clicked as he set down the official AA report. The prosthetic was rather sleek, the arm a smooth black metal and clearly robotic fingers. From what he could tell so far, it functioned identically to his opposite hand and didn’t _seem_ to interfere with his psionics. It actually felt almost normal, no phantom pain yet or any other side effects.

Though it had only been one day, so there was time. The only thing it lacked was a certain…sensitivity, even if functionally it was perfect. He supposed that was just one thing that couldn’t be replicated by machines. But looking at the big picture, it could have been much worse. But ultimately, that was unimportant in light of what had to be done now.

“Shen did a good job,” Vahlen noted, looking at his prosthetic with unbridled curiosity. It seemed she was still trying to figure out exactly how the mechanical limb conveyed senses and the like. She’d asked some questions, but their time had been limited since there’d been a lot to attend to.

“That he did,” he answered, twisting his wrist around. “Pretty much like the real thing.”

“I never asked,” Vahlen said, walking over and taking the metallic hand in hers. “Can you feel pain?”

He pondered that for a moment. “Not yet. Don’t know if it wasn’t programmed in, or something I can turn on. Don’t really see what purpose it would serve though.”

She nodded. “True,”

The door to the Situation Room opened and the survivors of the Internal Council walked in, Jackson, Shen, Patricia and Zhang. It felt odd not having Bradford or Van Doorn, and he suspected that feeling wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

All of them were still alert, but definitely exhausted even if they didn’t show it outwardly. For some of them, it definitely didn’t feel like a full victory, but the fact that they’d survived was enough to hold a sensation of triumph and satisfaction.

The Commander clasped his hands behind his back once they were all around the holotable. “Welcome back everyone. I know how many we lost, including good friends, but each and every one of you deserve recognition for what you did. We killed an Ethereal and acquired four of their UFOs. We won, and now we need to move forward.”

Jackson sighed, but composed herself a second later. Of all of them she was taking the losses hardest, which was normal since she wasn’t a soldier and had also been defending Mission Control before it fell. It was thanks to her that any staff and soldiers had survived to begin with. “No rest for us, then.”

“We cannot afford it,” Zhang stated bluntly, unsurprisingly focused on the more practical matters. “Our time is limited now.”

“Correct,” the Commander nodded grimly. “If Patricia has interpreted the Imperator correctly, we have passed their final test. Even if that weren’t the case, the death of an Ethereal is enough for them to begin an invasion since we now pose a very deadly threat.”

“I have to agree there,” Shen said wearily. “And we’re not in any shape to survive another attack on this scale, even with the Marines here.”

“Speaking of which, what are we going to do with them?” Patricia asked, leaning on the holotable. “Minus the genetics lab, they’ve seen the entirety of the Citadel.”

“The Citadel is compromised,” the Commander nodded. “But that is what the Hephaestus Contingency is for. We knew this would happen.”

“Thank god we prepared for it then,” Jackson muttered. “How long do you think it will take to transfer everything to…wherever the new base is?”

The Commander picked up his tablet and began scrolling through the list. “We’ve already begun allocating staff and resources weeks ago, as you noted. I doubt it will take that long, since we can also utilize the machines in place.”

“Some of which we still aren’t sure of how they work,” Shen warned, frowning. “The UFOs will help, but we do need traditional equipment for the time being.”

“Remind me again,” Patricia said, suppressing a yawn. “Where did you end up choosing for Hephaestus? I don’t think you ever told me.”

The Commander and Vahlen exchanged a look. Odd, he was sure he’d told her, but then again, she might have been distracted with other things. Like psionically preparing him and the others. “The Sectoid Hive you assaulted in the Middle East. Seemed a waste to just leave a perfectly functional base empty.”

She blinked. “Huh. That’s…a pretty good idea. No one knows about it, right? The Council?”

“The Council doesn’t know the location,” the Commander assured her. “Nor that we are using it. It will be an excellent staging area that no alien or human knows about.”

“Except, of course that the aliens _do_ know where it is,” Shen pointed out. “Whether they know we’re using it is another story.”

“It is more secure than the Citadel,” Zhang stated neutrally, crossing his arms. “And once we understand the alien tech within, it will be superior.”

Patricia nodded. “Right, in that case, what are we doing with the Citadel? The contingency itself has several solutions, if I recall.”

“The United States is an ally,” the Commander said. “But turning it over might not be a good idea, especially if Congress intervenes.”

“So we don’t turn it over,” Shen interrupted, as everyone turned their heads to him. “Why not keep the Citadel as a staging area? A forward base under the supervision of XCOM, but working in conjunction with the United States. Unofficially, of course.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. That actually was a much better idea than simply abandoning the Citadel or completely turning it over to the United States. Best of both worlds, and he was somewhat surprised he hadn’t thought of the idea himself. “Good idea,” he told Shen approvingly. “I’ll speak to President Treduant about that.”

“We’d have to designate some XCOM oversight here, of course,” Jackson noted. “And our forces took a severe beating.”

“They did,” the Commander acknowledged. “We’ll have to replace them as soon as possible, as well as some of the staff.”

“I’ll begin going through more potential recruits,” Patricia promised. “I do think that more countries will be willing now that we’ve shown to be able to weather a full attack.”

“True,” Zhang nodded. “This should put to rest any doubts the Council, or anyone else, has about our ability to combat the Ethereals.”

“Yet I somehow suspect that little will change as long as I’m in charge,” the Commander warned. “Our ability has never really been in question. But it will make it difficult for the Council to keep hold on us, especially once we completely switch bases.”

“We shouldn’t go out of our way to antagonize them though,” Shen suggested slowly. “They _are_ still funding us.”

“They are,” the Commander agreed ruefully. “But only because their fear of the aliens outweighs their fear of me. They won’t stop funding us; they have no choice here.”

“Except if they _are_ ,” Zhang reminded him. “They did seem to kill one of my intelligence teams. How long until they go further?”

“Again, it doesn’t matter,” the Commander interrupted, raising a hand. “The timetables have been moved up and the Council will be dealt with sooner than expected. ADVENT will be established and the unification and defense can begin. If we can accomplish that before the aliens launch an all-out invasion, we might have a chance.”

“I doubt the Imperator will give us that long,” Patricia muttered.

“That is the best-case scenario,” the Commander agreed. “But it is our goal.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to dedicate my teams to fully studying the UFOs,” Shen continued. “This will speed the Firestorm project significantly, especially with the addition of the Transport.”

“My teams will assist in the decryption of the data in the computers,” Zhang added, exchanging a look with Shen. “There might be some useful intel we can use, as well as details on how the systems function.”

“I will also begin analysis on the new aliens we fought,” Vahlen said. “The Ethereal, muton variant and suited alien to be precise.”

“Those suited aliens were surprisingly tough,” Patricia noted with a frown. “The material didn’t seem to be the same kind of metal the mutons use for their armor. It seemed to be immune to any chemicals and highly resistant to projectiles of any kind.”

“And it didn’t die when the pilot did,” the Commander finished. “Which is…interesting. The AI must be sophisticated if it could continue operations after death of the pilot. The President might find that useful for her project, and since we have a surplus of corpses, maybe one of the suits can be sent.”

“I’ll look into that,” Vahlen promised, looking down at her tablet. “But only after I complete a thorough autopsy and disassembly.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander nodded. “There are a few more topics to discuss. With the death of Bradford and Van Doorn, there are some vacancies that must be filled.”

He looked to Jackson. “I do believe the answer here is obvious. You’re the best person to assume control of XCOM’s Analysis and Communications division, so the only question is if you accept.”

She swallowed, but gave a firm nod. “I do, Commander.”

He gave her a satisfied smile. “I wish the circumstances were better, but congratulations on your promotions, Central Officer Jackson.” She saluted at that and received congratulations from the others in the room graciously.

The Commander let her have that moment before moving on. “Patricia, I also want to establish you in a more defined role beyond a psionic advisor.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“Even if the number of psions we have is small, it will need it’s own division,” the Commander explained. “So effective immediately XCOM’s Psionics division is established, with you as the Overseer.”

Patricia inclined her head. “Thank you Commander, I’ll establish some viable psionic candidates as soon as possible.”

Just what he wanted to hear. “Excellent. And now that the attack is over, we need to decide what to do with Nartha.”

“Do you think planting him as a double agent is still viable?” Jackson asked with a frown. “Especially when the attack failed?”

The Commander and Zhang exchanged a look, with the latter nodding once. “It’s still viable,” the Commander confirmed. “If anything they might find him more valuable since he was a witness to the battle.”

“But they might find it suspicious that he survived.” Vahlen pointed out.

“Which is why he doesn’t lie,” Zhang said. “He assisted XCOM in the defense to preserve his cover, as he wasn’t able to extract himself to the extraction point before the attack happened.”

Shen looked skeptical. “Will they buy that?”

“They should,” Zhang answered. “As long as a Hive Commander or Ethereal isn’t present during the debriefing.”

“Or he could say he left before the attack happened,” Patricia suggested. “So he wouldn’t be under as much suspicion.”

“Possible,” the Commander said, rapping his metallic fingers on the table. “I think Nartha should be the one to choose the story, since he’d know what would work best. But we need to use him quickly if he wants to be of use. Objections?”

All of them shook their heads. Not surprising, since this was objectively the best usage of the Vitakara. There was the trust issue, but since Nartha had fought in defense of the Citadel it automatically made him more trustworthy and reassured him that Nartha wasn’t trying to be a triple agent. Besides, either Patricia, Vahlen or Iosif would have picked up on something by now.

He would have been an ideal candidate for the Manchurian Program, but the timetables unfortunately didn’t work out this time. “Then it’s settled,” the Commander then pressed several buttons on the holotable and brought up schematics of what would be XCOM’s new main base of operations. “Now let’s figure out the finer details about moving to our new base.”

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

Abby was thankful that the sight of blood, gore or corpses never took away her appetite, else she’d be much worse than she already was right now. All that said, it felt good to actually put her skills to use in surgery as opposed to killing people. None of the surgeries were particularly _difficult_ , but…what was it? Four? Five? Whatever, there’d been a lot of them in a row which would tire even the best doctor. Thankfully Blake was also a competent surgeon and had been a major help in keeping everyone alive.

But right now she was just tired and hungry. Eat first though, sleep later.

Abby let her gaze drift to the Marines occupying the Mess Hall. It seemed odd, seeing ordinary soldiers walking around the Citadel, looking at where they’d been for the past year. It was somewhat surreal having just walking around and seeing soldiers snap to attention simply because she was part of XCOM, and she really wasn’t a soldier anymore.

But she didn’t bother correcting them.

She hadn’t realized just how much of a mystery XCOM was to the outsider world, especially to the military. They seemed to view even the lowest soldier here as an officer at the very least, the absolute best of the best, which wasn’t far off, she supposed. XCOM soldiers certainly weren’t like any others in the world.

“Jealous,” Patricia said, sitting across from her. “They’re definitely jealous.”

Abby frowned, scrutinizing the face of Patricia trying to figure out what she meant. Patricia was definitely just as tired as her, but nevertheless had asked to chat a bit, seeing as how they hadn’t seen each other for a while. And well…quite a bit had changed. Patricia definitely seemed older, more weathered and Abby suspected she looked the same. The biggest change she’d noticed was a subtle one, Patricia’s eyes were much harder, resembling the Commander’s in a similar calculating way. There was a hardness that hadn’t been there before, and considering some of what Patricia had been telling her, she wasn’t at all surprised that the overanalytical woman had become somewhat jaded.

“The marines,” Patricia explained at Abby’s questioning glance. “You’re wondering what they think of the Citadel. They’re jealous. Probably wishing their bases were this nice.”

Abby blinked. That… _had_ been something she’d idly been wondering. That was another big change she was picking up on, how Patricia would read her mind sometimes. It was somewhat unsettling, but given that Patricia had likely been the reason the Citadel hadn’t fallen, she didn’t really think it fair to criticize. “Is it really that easy to read my mind?”

Patricia let out a long sigh. “I’m not reading your mind, Abby. I don’t do that to friends. But I can sense your emotions, whether I want to or not. Given that you were _curious_ and glancing to the gawking marines wandering around, I made an educated guess. Seems I was right.”

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t _technically_ mind reading, but sensing her emotions, combined with Patricia’s analytical skills, it was something very close. “Question then,” Abby said, taking a bit of her sandwich. “So how does the whole mind-reading thing work then? Are they even aware?”

Patricia took a sip of water, pondering the question a few seconds before answering. “How it works? It’s…complicated and difficult to explain to a non-psion. Just going…into a mind, for lack of a better word, is chaos. It’s always different depending on the person. There’s a barrage of sights, sounds, memories, sensations. How much you’re immediately able to comprehend depends vastly on the personality and mindset of the person in question. Ironically smarter and organized people are much easier to assume control of because they tend to be more focused and professional.”

“Huh,” Abby wondered how easy her own mind would be. She liked to think she was organized and professional, so that seemed to mean-

“And yes, you would like be easier than say…Lesedi,” Patricia interjected with a smile. “I don’t need to be psionic to know that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Lesedi?” Abby asked with a frown, recalling the South African sniper. If anything she seemed to be _more_ focused. “Why her?”

“She’s a lot more laid back than she appears,” Patricia answered. “Don’t ask how I know that, but anyone who’s thinking happy thoughts while nailing a target across the room isn’t a cold professional.”

“Fair enough,” Abby shrugged. “Keep going.”

“Now, for the second part of your question…” Patricia paused. “Both are possible, really. It’s definitely possible for the person not to be aware you’re meddling. Even if they are, you can just erase their realization and make it so it seems like nothing is wrong. It’s very difficult and time-consuming though, and works better when the target isn’t even aware a psion is around.”

Abby shivered. “That’s honestly pretty terrifying. Especially if there’s no defense…” she cocked her head. “Is there?”

“Nothing that would protect you,” Patricia stated bluntly. “Ordinary humans don’t stand a chance against psions. Not yet, at least. I know the Commander is having Vahlen look into some kind of modification defending against psionics, but as it stands now…there is nothing.”

Noting Abby’s uncomfortable demeanor, she offered a wan smile. “Don’t worry too much. It’s not really something you have to worry about in your line of work. There aren’t any other human psionics besides those in XCOM, and the ones the aliens have. Alien psions are also rare, and the regular sectoids can’t really do more than give you a migraine.”

“Small comfort, I suppose,” Abby conceded. “But yeah, you’re right. It really isn’t something I need to worry about. So how did you keep the Ethereal subdued, especially after he knocked us all out?”

“A lot of help from Vahlen, the Commander and Franklin,” Patricia conceded. “If anything people should be heaping praise on Franklin for killing the damn thing. I was just trying to keep it paralyzed, and it helped that I was _really_ angry.”

“Did you take over his mind?”

“No, no,” she quickly disputed. “But… _contained_ it? That might be the best word. Vahlen did the same thing, which split its defenses. I honestly just used the most brute force tactic I could, which was repeating one command over and over again.”

Abby frowned. “It’s that simple?”

“You know the saying where ‘repeat a lie often enough and it becomes true’?” Patricia asked, trying to explain through analogy. “It’s something similar here. So imagine that you have the word _stand_ appear in your head and you don’t want to. So you ignore it, but it keeps appearing in your head. Now imagine that imprinted _directly_ into your mind multiple times a second. Eventually it _will_ reach a point where you do so subconsciously, not really because you want to, but because that’s what your _brain_ thinks should happen.”

“Ah,” Abby nodded in understanding. “I thought the Ethereal would be better prepared against such a…simple tactic.”

“Keep in mind this Ethereal had currently lost an arm, been fried to a crisp, bled all across his body, withstanding a mental attack from me _and_ Vahlen, while the Commander also telekinetically pinned him to the wall,” Patricia pointed out humorously. “Add Franklin beating the hell out of him and I would say the Ethereal actually did pretty well. Much more than I would have.”

She turned serious a few seconds later. “We got really lucky, Abby. If any one of us hadn’t been there or failed, we would have died. Yes, we won, but it wasn’t anywhere close to decisive.”

Abby almost smiled at that. Just like Patricia to automatically jump to the worst-case scenario. “Maybe, but these Ethereals are supposedly rare, aren’t they? It’s not like they can be easily replaced.”

Patricia chuckled. “Good point. But I do wonder how this Ethereal compared to others of his kind. Is he stronger or weaker than the average? That sort of thing. We really don’t know enough about them to really feel comfortable about dealing with another one in the future.”

“Well, yeah,” Abby agreed, finishing up her sandwich. “But we can worry about the future tomorrow. Let’s just enjoy this victory while it lasts.”

“You’ve got that luxury,” Patricia snorted. “The Commander is definitely not taking the day off.”

Abby smirked. “Does he ever?”

“No,” she admitted. “But then again, neither do I.”

They kept eating for a few minutes in silence when another soldier came walking up. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked, holding a tray of food in his hand. He sounded familiar, actually, though she was pretty sure she hadn’t seen him before. He was definitely Arabic, with darker brown skin and short black hair. He also had bushier eyebrow than normal, and a neatly trimmed beard. She was still not sure where she’d seen him before.

“Sure,” Abby said, gesturing beside herself. “Plenty of room.”

“Thank you,” he said, and took a seat. Patricia was also looking at him, also clearly trying to place him.

“Jamali, correct?” She asked after a few moments.

“Yes, sir,” he answered with a nod. “I’ve been in your squad several times.”

“Right,” she nodded in remembrance. “I remember you much better now. We haven’t really talked much outside combat.”

He smiled. “Right, it’s much different without armor. But I don’t mind, you’re doubtless very busy.”

“Understatement of the day,” Patricia muttered. “I almost wish I was a regular soldier again sometimes. Much simpler.”

“I don’t think there are ‘regular’ soldiers in XCOM,” Abby pointed out. “XCOM doesn’t take infantry. Special forces and Intelligence are the main draws.”

Jamali seemed to agree. “Speaking of that, I did have a question miss…”

“Just call me Abby.”

“Abby, yes,” he repeated. “From what I saw you’re one of the soldiers, but I’m fairly sure I haven’t seen you before the attack.”

“Oh, right,” she answered easily. “I’m technically not a ‘soldier’ per-se anymore. I transferred to XCOM Intelligence.”

His face brightened. “Ah, that makes sense. I did assume that, though you handled your weapon more like a soldier than an agent so I was curious.”

“You were with Vahlen’s team?” Abby asked. “I must have seen you then.”

“I’m certain you did,” he agreed. “But there were clearly more important things. So were you CIA before, or traditional military?”

“US Marines,” she answered, nodding to some of her brethren wandering around. “Battlefield medic, which is really the reason I was recruited. I served as the Head Surgeon before transferring to XCOM Intelligence.”

He cocked his head, clearly trying to figure that out. “That seems…an interesting switch.”

If only he knew. “You could say that,” she agreed. “But it was best for XCOM.”

“Something I can respect,” he nodded. “And what about you, Ms. Trask?”

“Royal Marines,” Patricia answered aimlessly. “Much less interesting than you might think. Though I really don’t consider myself one anymore. I’m an XCOM soldier now, and that’s not going to change.”

“That does seem to be a common sentiment,” Jamali agreed.

“What about you?” Abby asked curiously. “Where are you from?”

“I’m an ISOF operative,” he answered, specifically appearing to avoid the country. “Or was, anyway.”

Abby didn’t recognize the name, but Patricia clearly did. “Iraqi special forces?”

“You know your special forces,” Jamali complimented evenly. “And yes, I am.”

“No need to hide it,” Abby said. “I don’t think anyone really cares what country you’re from now.”

“Just a habit,” he shrugged. “Most of the world doesn’t hold a high opinion of the region.”

“Not without-“ Patricia began before Abby cut her off.

“Most of the world isn’t _here_ ,” Abby continued before Patricia could say what was on her mind. “Where you come from doesn’t really matter here. Doesn’t matter if you’re Iraqi, American, Iranian or Chinese. We’re all humans united against an alien threat. When having that perspective, a lot of the things people fight over now seem petty.”

“Some true, some not,” he conceded. “My country’s history is checkered to say the least, and I understand that, but I am grateful for your words. It’s encouraging to hear every so often.”

“And it’s important to say,” Abby said firmly. “Let’s change the subject a bit. Like why everyone seems to be packing everything up.”

“Oh, that?” Patricia said knowingly. “I think I can answer that. Jamali, do you remember that alien base?”

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

_“Patching them through now, Commander,”_ Jackson informed while he waited for the screen to stabilize. _“Have fun.”_

The Commander snorted. Fun. Well, this was likely going to be one of the less-painful Council meetings, since it was entirely expected that they would call and say how happy they were that XCOM was still standing. Not really much else they could say, except for demanding future plans, which all they would get is “What we’re already doing.”

Or something like that.

After receiving quite a few well-meaning messages from their allies, he was starting to get a little tired of responding to them. But such was the burden of being in charge, and it was much better than the alternative. He did wonder how the Council was going to treat this meeting, but he assumed that the Speaker would keep their message in line.

A shame that the Speaker would likely suffer the same fate as the Council. He’d rather liked him.

The screen flashed and the familiar sight of the Speaker greeted his eyes. _“Hello, Commander,”_ he greeting, inclining his head. _“It is good to see you survived the…attack…on the Citadel.”_

“Something I completely agree with,” the Commander nodded. “We did suffer losses, but in the end we were able to hold successfully and kill the Ethereal leading them.”

The Speaker sounded genuinely pleased. _“That is…excellent…to hear, Commander. The death of one of their leaders will no doubt cause the aliens to think twice before making such a…bold…move again.”_

He did wish that was true, but somehow doubted it. “As do I, Speaker. But if anything this will be what finally provokes the aliens to fully invade Earth.”

_“A possible risk,”_ the Speaker acknowledged. _“The Council remains committed to ensuring XCOM remains at the front of dealing with this impending invasion.”_

“Good to hear,” the Commander said neutrally, not really giving that statement any more weight than it deserved. “While I’m…grateful, for their support, XCOM will not be enough to withstand a full invasion. I assume the Council has a response to an invasion planned?”

The Speaker was silent for a moment. _”Unfortunately, that is classified United Nations operations. But the Council is aware of the steps that need to be taken.”_

The Commander’s eyebrows furrowed at the abject arrogance of that. “And please ask why exactly _XCOM_ should not be involved in the global defense of Earth? If anyone deserves knowledge as to what the United Nations is planning, it is us.”

Yep, it definitely seemed the Speaker was not liking what he had to say. _“As XCOM is…officially…under the control of the United Nations, the Council does not believe it would be appropriate for a subservient branch to have influence in events regarding global security and stability.”_

The Commander raised an eyebrow, almost wishing he was surprised by that idiotic excuse. “I see. It is most certainly reassuring that the Council has such faith in me and XCOM. I would also remind that Council that a large number of XCOM soldiers died preventing a global crisis for the UN to handle. But I also believe the United Nations is either unaware, or willfully ignorant of our status in the world now.”

He raised his prosthetic hand and jabbed a finger to the screen. “XCOM is not a subservient branch. Not anymore. We are UN in name only, as our priority is not the United Nations, but humanity as a whole, and as such, we deserve to know how best to assist the United Nations when the time comes. We cannot be allies if we do not know what one side is doing.”

_“Some Councilors believe you overestimate your importance,”_ the Speaker said, still struggling to remain neutral. _“XCOM is only one part of a larger plan.”_

The Commander considered pushing this forward, but it ultimately mattered very little. It wasn’t worth getting mad at the Council. It wasn’t worth arguing over the UN. They were a problem and would be eliminated soon. All he had to do was put up with their partisan politics a little longer. “Noted,” he ground out. “Anything else.”

_“Yes,”_ the Speaker almost sighed. _“The Council would like to request you turn over two of the UFOs captured to United Nations teams.”_

The Commander struggled to maintain a straight face. Were they _really_ pulling this now? “Why?”

_“To…assist in the utilization of alien materials,”_ the Speaker continued slowly. _“Mostly because several councilors are…concerned…that several other nations are becoming more advanced than their own.”_

He only gave a small smile at the Speaker finally telling the truth. He’d probably wanted to do that for some time now. “That _is_ unfortunate,” the Commander said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, XCOM cannot spare extra resources to an organization that clearly does not intend to work with us combating the alien threat. Will you convey that to them?”

_“Of course,”_ the Speaker said quickly. _“On a similar note, several Councilors are ordering you to cease and desist contacting and supplying various countries with alien tech-“_

The Commander shut off the screen. He had no time for answering questions they already knew the answers to. It was a waste of his time and theirs, and he’d wanted to do that for a long time. If the Council really wanted to contact him again, they could come in person. He did take some pleasure in knowing that might be the last time he ever had to deal with them.

Well, no. He’d have to set up an in-person meeting.

But they would likely take the bait.

He spun around and returned to his chair, pushing thoughts of the irrelevant Council out of his head. The United Nations was sentenced to death, and there was no point dwelling on them until their execution. Because right now, he had more important things to worry about.

***

_England, Falka Intelligence Control_

Saudia looked up from the summary as soon as she finished reading it. “And everything is in place?”

“It is,” Elizabeth confirmed, turning back to her from the small holotable. “All I need is your approval to execute.”

Saudia nodded. This was exactly what was needed, especially now. “I assume you’ve seen the news?”

“And my own reports,” Elizabeth confirmed, setting her own tablet down and looking directly up at Saudia. “Though the US Government won’t confirm anything, the mass deployment of marines to the coordinates of XCOM’s base of operations can really only mean one thing.”

“So XCOM lives,” Saudia murmured, looking up over the mass of Falka agents working below Elizabeth’s office. “That must mean they killed the Ravaged One.”

“Seems like a safe bet,” Elizabeth agreed, smirking. “I would like to see the look on the face of whatever Elder is in charge when they learn XCOM won.”

“And the media is buying that this is a training exercise,” Saudia added in mock disbelief. “Ignoring the multiple sightings of UFOs beforehand in the region.”

Elizabeth snorted. “What, and scare the people? Both of us know better. President Treduant likely made sure the media all got the same story.”

“Please,” Saudia disputed. “I know _you_ know better. The US media doesn’t bow to the president, _especially_ if ordered to. Some of them take pride in being the president’s enemies.”

“Except that Treduant seems to be getting sick of the theater,” Elizabeth commented, going over to a folder and picking up several documents. “Take a look at these.”

Saudia instantly recognized the type of document and the unmistakable presidential seal. “Warrants. On congressmen.”

“Quite a few of these are technically illegal for a president to order,” Elizabeth noted with some amusement. “But the advantage of having the CIA, NSA and FBI on your side is that trivial things like legalities are more of a suggestion than an actual guideline.”

“Still,” Saudia frowned. “This seems unlike her. President Treduant seemed to hold herself above this. It’s something of a character flaw, if I’m being honest. But it’s also why so many like her.”

“I do have some theories on this,” Elizabeth said, motioning her over to the holotable. Once Saudia walked over she continued. “You saw the bill she introduced to Congress?”

“Of course,” Saudia nodded.

“The most obvious theory is that she’s looking for dirt on congressmen,” Elizabeth began, picking up her tablet once more. “Using this, she’d be able to force votes her way, which is why she’ll likely get this bill passed. I think that’s for certain. But what _isn’t_ certain is what comes after that.”

“For some reason, I don’t think that will work for very long,” Saudia commented wryly. “But if she declares a state of emergency directly after the bill is signed into law, it’s going to look very suspicious.”

“Agreed,” Elizabeth nodded. “So the question is if she leaves Congress alone after this…or purges it entirely in one fell swoop.”

Saudia hesitated before answering, since she didn’t want to sound too incredulous. “And throw the government into chaos? Risk starting riots? I’m…skeptical she would do it. She may despise Congress, but utterly destroying it seems…shortsighted at best.”

“Unless she has a plan,” Elizabeth conceded. “However, I have no proof of any such plan. But why I’m bringing this up is because she met with the Commander a week or so ago.”

Well, that changed things. Somewhat. “And you don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“No,” Elizabeth stated flatly, her features hardening. “The Commander meets with Treduant and she soon introduces a bill that would essentially give the executive branch unlimited power and begins gathering information on congressmen…no, this has to be connected.”

“Then we might be looking at the wrong person,” Saudia suggested. “The Commander does use people to put his plans into motion, so Treduant might be one such pawn.”

“That isn’t as far-fetched as you think,” Elizabeth agreed, handing her the tablet. “The President wasn’t the only one the Commander talked to recently. Look at the countries he’s visited.”

“Quite a few, big and small,” Saudia noted. “He’s definitely planning something. And since XCOM has survived, I expect it’s going into motion soon.”

“Remember when your contact mentioned ADVENT?” Elizabeth asked, reaching over and flipping to several pictures. “This is the one connecting strand. That word has been popping up recently in all the countries he visited. No one outside the highest levels of government even is aware it exists, and I don’t have sources in high enough places to get any details on it.”

“Well, we need to find out soon,” Saudia said, pursing her lips. “I don’t like XCOM having a plan this large and not having _some_ idea of what it will be.”

“Hopefully once Israel and Brazil are at war it will force XCOM to act quickly,” Elizabeth said, returning to the holomap which now displayed a map of the Middle East.

“So walk through it in action,” Saudia said, putting the tablet down. “It looks good on paper, but a simulation always helps.”

“I agree,” Elizabeth nodded. “The assassinations will take place at night, and will take out most of the Israeli Cabinet, the Knesset Speaker, Opposition Speaker and the Prime Minister’s family.”

“Let’s hope they have some good replacements,” Saudia noted. “Taking out the entire cabinet might damage the response.”

“I doubt it,” Elizabeth dismissed. “There are plenty of talented Israelis to replace the losses, and I don’t expect every assassination to succeed. Several failures are going to be instrumental in pinning the blame on the Arab states.”

“Even a few deaths will be enough to start a war,” Saudia agreed, observing the map. “Especially if there is indisputable proof.”

“Oh, there is,” Elizabeth confirmed with a small smile. “With authentic documents, orders, seals and everything. There will be no doubt that this was a coordinated attack on Israel.”

“And then the war starts,” Saudia nodded. “And where do you anticipate the fighting will start?”

“That largely depends on if Israel will be receiving allied help,” Elizabeth answered, first pointing at towards the map. “I think it will almost certainly start out with Jordan, Lebanon and Syria being taken first.” The specific countries were highlighted a dark green.

“So let’s say they have no support?” Saudia asked. “What then?”

“Then Israel braces for a long fight, which means they turtle up,” Elizabeth answered. “Iraq would be the next logical point, and gives them control of a decent portion of the Middle East, while completely isolating Turkey in case they try to supply arms to the Saudis or Iranians.” Iraq was highlighted in yellow

“Do you think they’ll intervene?” Saudia asked.

“Depends on if they think Israel is vulnerable,” Elizabeth answered with a shrug. “If they go at it alone, it’s entirely possible, and might shift the war against Israel.”

“So once Iraq is taken, where next?”

“Saudi Arabia would likely be next,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “Continuing east with Iran opens them up to being outmaneuvered, and Iran acts as a buffer between Pakistan, Afghanistan and Turkmenistan.”

“And once Saudi Arabia is taken, then they can take Yemen and Oman easily,” Saudia observed from the map. “By then I think the war would be decided.”

“Probably,” Elizabeth agreed. “And depending on if Turkey joins in or not, they might be next before Israel decides to finish up with Iran and eastward.”

“So estimated time?”

“One year optimistically,” Elizabeth said. “Without any support whatsoever. We also have to consider that they have a significant tech advantage and if it _does_ appear that Israel is losing, I don’t see XCOM standing back and letting them fall.”

“So there is no way they can lose?” Saudia asked.

“Not unless someone shoots a nuclear bomb to Tel Aviv,” Elizabeth amended. “But that would result in their own countries being wiped off the map as well, so I don’t believe that’s a major risk. Besides, I assume Israel has taken precautions against that possibility, as have my own agents. There will be no nukes fired this war.”

“So what changes if they receive Russian or American support?” Saudia asked.

“They would likely do the same thing,” Elizabeth admitted. “But while they are busy with the Saudis, Russia would begin attacking Iran with the United States assisting both. The combined force of all three countries should be enough to take the region within several months, especially with the substantial tech advantage all three nations have.”

“Excellent,” Saudia nodded. “And for Brazil, the plan seems straightforward enough.”

“Marshal Luana is easily manipulated and predictable,” Elizabeth noted with some derision. “Several authentic documents showing Bolivia and Argentina funding the cartels she’s trying to smash will send her into a frenzy and she’ll likely declare war soon after. She’ll likely annex several of the other countries in her way as well.”

“Simple, but effective,” Saudia agreed. “That should be more than enough to make our alien friends happy.”

“Until we raid their base,” Elizabeth finished, switching the map to the layout of the Arctic. “We have a confirmed location on this alien base which we’re certain contains the Furies.”

“So once we start the war, we turn on them,” Saudia said grimly. “A bit fast, but I suspect everything is going to come to a head soon. We need to ensure we’re on the right side.”

“Which means it might be worth informing XCOM when we act,” Elizabeth suggested. “Once we reclaim the Furies, of course.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Saudia agreed. “Anyway, you have my permission to execute your operations, Spymaster. Good luck.”

Elizabeth saluted. “Thank you, Director. It will be done.”

***

_The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control_

“How much of this do you think will actually be useful?” Jackson asked as they poured over the data that Shen and Zhang had extracted from the UFOs.

“Quite a lot, actually,” the Commander said, looking through some of it on his tablet. “For better or worse, the aliens are organized with their information, though it will take some time to read through all of it.”

“Have you learned anything useful so far?” Zhang asked, writing some notes on a pad, occasionally glancing over to the information he had in front of him on his own tablet. “The conversion process works, but takes some time.”

“Something,” the Commander said. “They appear to keep records of each landing. This particular transport has an extensive list of landing coordinates.”

“Which we could use to pinpoint Ethereal bases?” Jackson suggested. “Or flight paths at the very least.”

“Possibly,” the Commander nodded. “But what’s interesting is that I checked some of these coordinates earlier. Most are in uncharted space, but the last one before the attack was on Earth.”

Zhang’s head snapped up. “Where?”

“The Arctic wastes,” the Commander answered. “Supposedly there’s nothing there, but I think it would be worth investigating exactly why this transport stopped in the middle of nowhere.”

“Could they have other bases here?” Jackson asked. “I mean, it’s _possible_ , but without us knowing? Or anyone?”

“Maybe not full bases like the Sectoid Hive,” the Commander amended. “But staging areas and landing zones? Likely, and with major parts of the world still isolated, they could build something small that goes unnoticed for months.”

“Though how much of that is really necessary,” Zhang noted with a frown. “Landing areas and forward bases are only useful when they don’t have the capability to land wherever they want. They will always be more mobile than us until we develop our own spacecraft.”

“Depends on what the Ethereals want to achieve,” the Commander said slowly, setting his tablet down. “And they don’t just want to conquer Earth. They want to _subdue_ it. I don’t necessarily think they want to start an all-out war because it seems more and more like they _want_ us on their side. Humans who support them. So orbital bombardments and city massacres won’t exactly help achieve that goal.”

“I’d be more inclined to agree had that Ethereal not attacked New York,” Jackson said. “I agree that the Ethereals don’t want to turn Earth into a crater, but going about this to keep as many humans on their side as possible…unlikely.”

“Here’s a question,” the Commander suddenly said as the idea popped into his mind. “Are we sure that these Ethereals are such a homogenous group? That they work in perfect harmony with each other?”

Zhang and Jackson exchanged a look. “Not officially, no,” Jackson finally said, clearly puzzled. “But that’s somewhat implied.”

“I know,” the Commander nodded. “But what if we’re wrong? What if the Ethereals are divided about how to handle us? Aegis in particular seemed to be partial to a more peaceful solution, even if it didn’t benefit us, whereas this one clearly just wanted to wipe us out.”

“And this Imperator seems to have very specific plans, if what Patricia said has any weight,” Zhang added slowly, beginning to see where he was going. “Hypothetically, we could have accidentally just ensured that an invasion happens.”

Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _How_?”

“The Imperator seems to be the leader of the Ethereals,” the Commander began. “We know thanks to Nartha that the one we killed was a replacement for another, so why order a transfer in the first place?”

“Because the Ethereal before wasn’t doing a good job?”

“Maybe,” the Commander continued. “Or maybe it was the Imperator’s way of removing a political threat. Hypothetically, it’s a win-win situation for him. We die and prove that we aren’t as useful as he wanted, and he goes back to other things. Or we win, and prove the opposite, as well as remove an obstacle to him. Not to mention he could use the death of an Ethereal to justify whatever actions against us, which looks more and more the subjugation.”

“It also lines up with the phrasing of a ‘test’,” Zhang added thoughtfully. “As well as explain why he didn’t seem too worried about the death of one of his own, even though they are supposedly few and dying.”

“Or we could be reading too much into this,” the Commander shrugged. “But it is interesting to think about and utilize.”

“Do you think the Ethereals are numerous enough to _have_ political factions?” Jackson asked. “And even if they did, I doubt they’d be on a level we could comprehend, much less influence.”

“Influence Ethereal politics,” the Commander chuckled. “Impossible at this point, but knowledge would be useful in predicting their actions. Something that _will_ be valuable when the invasion begins.”

“I did want to ask if you found anything about how the Ethereals found the Citadel,” Zhang said, changing the topic drastically. “I think it would be useful in ensuring the same thing doesn’t happen again.”

The Commander pursed his lips as he searched through the data. “Nothing so far. I doubt the transport will contain anything, although the Ethereal’s UFO might have something. But all the ships appear mostly utilitarian, with communications not really a priority.”

“Still though,” Jackson noted. “We should try and find out something.”

“The amount of people who knew the location of the Citadel was limited,” the Commander recalled. “All of you, the pilots, and the Councilors. No one else, to my knowledge.”

“Which limits the pool of leaks,” Zhang stated.

“No, it doesn’t,” the Commander sighed. “Because an Ethereal is involved, it’s not that simple. Patricia may have been right and they found us because there was too much psionic energy concentrated here. Or he could have taken the information from Fallen Sky’s mind back in England. Or he could have read the mind of any of the Councilors.”

“I highly doubt the Council would betray our location willingly,” Jackson interjected, leaning back against the wall. “They may not like you, but I genuinely don’t think they want XCOM to fall.”

“They would if it would get rid of me,” the Commander responded neutrally. “But I agree in this case. An attack of this scale wouldn’t be supported by any of them, Ennor included.”

Zhang scratched his chin. “What about EXALT? Could they have learned about our base?”

The Commander frowned. “Possibly, but I doubt they would be the ones to hand it over. They wouldn’t risk going to direct war with us, which _would_ happen if they were idiotic enough to pull that. Besides, weakening us is the wrong move, strategically. They wouldn’t do that if they really wanted to fight against the aliens.”

“Unless they turned it over to them before we made our truce?” Zhang suggested

The Commander wasn’t convinced. “Then why did they wait this long before attacking?”

Zhang shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m just pointing out the possibility.”

“The easiest solution would be to ask Director Saudia herself,” the Commander said. “Perhaps I’ll bring that up when I go visit her.”

Zhang sniffed derisively. “For some reason, I don’t think she’s just going to _tell_ you that.”

The Commander tapped his head. “I might not be able to read minds like Patricia, but I _can_ tell when someone is lying. If she lies, I will kill her. If not, we will keep talking.”

“And what if EXALT _was_ behind giving the Ethereals our location?” Jackson asked quietly.

The Commander was silent for a few moments. “That depends on if they shared that information before, or after our truce. One can be justified, relatively. The other cannot and will be punished.”

“I’m not fond of letting EXALT off the hook, no matter when they shared it,” Zhang muttered. “Provided they _did_ in the first place. We lost a lot of people to their damn _games_ of world domination.”

“Like it or not, they still have a role to play for now,” the Commander said wearily. “They deserve to be destroyed for their traitorous actions, even if they defend it with some perversion of _‘It’s best for humanity’_ , but we have very limited amount of options, and it makes more sense to utilize EXALT instead of destroy it.”

“And you think they’re just going to go along with it?” Jackson asked skeptically. “Even if we outmatch them militarily, they’ll just go into hiding like they likely have before.”

The Commander smiled at that. That would be a concern, except that he had a pretty good plan for ensuring that didn’t happen. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I have a good feeling that EXALT is going to do exactly what I suggest.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Hephaestus Contingency

(RESTRICTED TO INTERNAL COUNCIL)

OVERVIEW: In the event that the current main base of XCOM operations is compromised as a result of:

  1. Mishandling of information
  2. Enemy intelligence operatives
  3. Traitorous or disillusioned XCOM personnel
  4. Torture of XCOM personnel by hostile forces
  5. Psionic interrogation of XCOM personnel by hostile psions



Preparations will be made to transfer the main operations of XCOM to a pre-determined location not compromised by hostile forces. The location will be determined by the Internal Council, with limited involvement from various branches of XCOM, including but not limited to:

  1. XCOM Intelligence
  2. XCOM Analysis and Communications
  3. XCOM Engineering
  4. XCOM Research and Development



_Note 1:_ ‘Compromised’ is defined as follows:

  1. Knowledge of the current base is known by hostile forces and countries
  2. Knowledge of the current base is known by neutral forces and countries
  3. Knowledge of the current base is known by an unknown number of organizations
  4. The current base has suffered one or more attacks from hostile forces
  5. Non-critical allies have knowledge of base location and activities



SPECIFICATIONS AND REQUIREMENTS: The requirements for the new base location in question are defined as follows:

SIZE: The absolute size of the base shall not be lesser than the previous location and must containing:

  1. A Hangar which allows vertical access outside
  2. Module sizes large enough to be converted into barracks or personnel quarters, with at least a capacity of 1000 personnel
  3. Modules allowing integration of heavy machinery, medical and specialized scientific equipment



LOCATION: The location must not be known to any outside organizations, governments or agencies without the express permission of the Commander of XCOM. Should another party learn of the location of the new base, it will be officially compromised and a new location will have to be determined.

_Note:_ If a suitable base is not able to be found, it may be constructed with the assistance of close allies to specifications overseen by Head Engineer Raymond Shen.

TECHNICAL INTEGRATION AND COMMUNICATION: The base must be able to interface with current XCOM technology, with room to improve in the future. It must also be able to communicate to any location in the world with satellite and antenna access. Failure to achieve any of the requirements stated above disqualifies said location from contention.

PHASE 1: PREPARATION AND TRANSFER OF RESOURCES AND PERSONNEL: Once the location to enact the Hephaestus Contingency is chosen, the following will be executed.

  1. A skeleton crew will be assigned to prepare the new base, chosen from within various XCOM branches (Excluding XCOM Armed Forces), specific personnel chosen by Head Scientist Moira Vahlen and Head Engineer Raymond Shen.
  2. Once the location has been prepared by the skeleton crew, specialized equipment will be ordered and sent for installation, which will commence immediately upon arrival.
  3. A pre-determined amount of XCOM physical resources will be transferred as a contingency in the event of an unexpected attack or sabotage by hostile forces. The amount will be decided by the Internal Council, as well as if the transfer will be one-time, or recurring.
  4. At the discretion of the Commander, personnel may be recruited specifically for the base in order to assist in its preparation and usage.



PHASE 2: EXECUTION OF CONTINGENCY: Upon the execution of the Hephaestus Contingency, the following will be executed:

  1. All non-combat personnel will be transferred in their entirety to the new base, via skyranger and immediately begin continuing work on current projects and experiments.
  2. All test subjects will be restrained or subdued in order to safely transport them. Upon arrival they will be unloaded and placed in the appropriate locations for further experimentation.
  3. The Internal Council will relocate in their entirety to the new base and resume operations immediately.
  4. XCOM Armed Forces will be systematically relocated to the new base, with some remaining behind to retain control at the discretion of the Commander. This applies to MEC, genetically modified and psionic soldiers.
  5. All remaining resources will be transferred in their entirety to the new base, as well as any equipment that was unable to be installed prior to the execution of the Hephaestus Contingency.



PHASE 3: DETERMINATION OF PREVIOUS HEADQUARTERS: Upon successful transfer of all relevant XCOM personnel to the new base, it will then be determined what to do with the previous base via the following options:

  1. In the event that the previous base is in allied territory, the previous base will be overseen by XCOM and utilized as a forward base, working in conjunction with allied military forces. 
    * In the event that XCOM is unable to maintain oversight of the previous base, it shall be turned over to the allied government in question.
  2. In the event that the previous base is in neutral territory, XCOM will maintain a small garrison of soldiers and utilize the previous base as a forward outpost against any hostile forces. The previous base may also be converted to an intelligence outpost, research station or engineering workshop at the discretion of the Internal Council.
  3. In the event that the previous base is in hostile territory, XCOM will abandon the base and sabotage it to prevent any further usage. Options may include destroying it entirely, bugging it, or utilizing additional forms of surveillance.



SECURITY AND TRANSFER OF INFORMATION: Upon establishment within the new base, the following standards will be recognized:

  1. The location of the new base will not be shared with any country, organization or agency regardless of affiliation without the express permission of the Council.
  2. Airspace around the base is under strict control, and any unauthorized aircraft in the area are to be shot down regardless of affiliation.
  3. All visitors to the new base require screening and blood testing to ensure health, species, and motive. Psionic interrogation will be implemented if necessary.
  4. All laws, customs and cultures of the country the base resides in are now null and void within XCOM-controlled territory, and XCOM has authorization to take action according to established XCOM guidelines.
  5. Transfer of information will be heavily monitored, and restricted at the discretion of Central Officer Jackson of XCOM Analysis and Communications.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, there may or may not be a delay in future chapters, as Mass Effect Andromeda is out and that is what I'll be spending most of my free time on. I do have a few chapters written, and just need to be reviewed by my beta, so depending on how long that takes, there may or may not be a noticable delay in uploading. 
> 
> -Xabiar


	44. Puppets

 

_Unknown Location_

The Commander was surrounded by snowy plains in a vast frozen wasteland. There was nothing but snow and ice as far as he could see, with some ice shelves in the distance and rolling snowy hills. It was perfectly calm as well, no snow blew into him and no clouds obscured the sun above. It was likely as perfect as a day could be here.

The Commander crossed his arms, noting that he was armored in his XCOM Aegis armor, minus his helmet and weapons. Well, this was certainly odd. His subconscious tended to at least pretend he was actually awake before showing stuff that didn’t make sense. Maybe he was just too tired to really put effort into deceiving himself.

If so, good. He would really just prefer to go to sleep and be uninterrupted.

“I did always wonder what the arctic wastes would look like,” Farida commented wistfully as she walked up behind him. “Rather beautiful, in its own way.”

He turned to see her dressed in appropriate winter attire, bundled up in white jackets and pants. He wondered if she’d ever actually owned any. Though that wasn’t a relevant question at the moment. “Welcome back,” he muttered, looking away and into the vast white expanse.

“Sarcastic as usual,” she chided. “Have you really moved on from me so fast? Do you really care about your scientist more than me? _Did_ you care about me to begin with?”

The Commander took a breath and spun sharply to her. “Enough,” he almost growled, making the illusionary woman take a step back. “You and I both know that isn’t even close to how I feel.” He jabbed a finger at her. “ _You are not real_.” His hand swept across the area. _“This is not real._ You are _dead_. Farida…she would be _happy_ for me, as I would be for her if our roles were reversed. But don’t mention Moira again unless you want this to end a little sooner.”

“Yes, resorting to murder always works for you when things don’t go your way,” she taunted with a knowing smile. “Why bother to debate with people when you can just kill them? You’re not killing the Council isn’t because of some supposed _danger_ to humanity. You just don’t like them because they oppose you.”

“Don’t trivialize the situation,” the Commander warned, deliberately keeping himself relaxed. “I _wanted_ to work with them, I was _willing_. But they won’t let the past die, and their negligence will collapse the world if allowed to continue. They need to be replaced for the good of humanity, regardless of my personal feelings towards them.”

“And it isn’t even partially for revenge?” Farida instead.

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Revenge? No. But I will rest easier knowing that _justice_ was administered to them. Not for what they did to me, but what they did to my soldiers.”

Farida shook her head dramatically. “Come now, you know justice and revenge are not the same thing.”

“I think that’s a debate for another time,” he responded evenly. “Preferably with someone alive.”

“At the rate you’re going, I doubt that will last much longer,” she said with a smile. “And what exactly did all those people die for, hmm? A few more weeks? A month? All because they believed they actually had a chance because you lied to them. You know you can’t win, and you can’t even admit that to yourself.”

“We killed an Ethereal,” the Commander growled, taking a step towards her. “It won’t be easy, but we can-“

“ _One_ Ethereal who killed half your base,” she amended raising a finger. “And do you really think you’ll last against another one? Or two? Or three?”

“Probably not,” the Commander admitted, shoulders slumping. “But we’re going to keep fighting. What’s the alternative? We give up?”

“You’re always going _on_ and _on_ about doing what’s necessary to save people,” Farida mocked. “Did you ever consider that you might save more people by _not_ dragging them into a hopeless war that will kill billions? Did-“

She suddenly hacked and her hand flew to her throat as the Commander extended his mechanical arm towards her, hand positioned in a pincer motion as he telekinetically grabbed her throat. “You know, I put up with quite a lot from you,” he almost snarled, taking a step toward her. “But even I have a fucking breaking point. Do you _really_ think I don’t know that people are going to die in this war? Or worse, that I _don’t care?”_

She couldn’t respond, of course, but her oxygen-deprived eyes were begging for him to release her. But she was in no danger of dying. She wouldn’t until he willed it. “Do you _really_ think I don’t know that our chances are slim, that we _are_ weak against the aliens realistically?” He continued quietly. “Oh, I do. I think about it _every day_. But what should I be doing then? Telling everyone to give up? No. They believe our chances are better than they are because they _trust_ me. _I_ have to keep ensuring that they know we can win, even if there’s only a slim chance.”

He released his hold on her throat and she collapsed to the snow. “And to just give up…” he paused, looking down on her emotionlessly. “I wouldn’t only be condemning my people to die by the millions, I’d be condemning them to slavery, experimentation; we would be nothing more than more expendable soldiers, with our free will stripped completely. I know that people are going to die, but at least they will die free.”

“I’m sure they’ll thank you for that,” Farida breathed. “They’ll be thinking to that once they stare down alien plasma rifles. How _lucky_ they were to die _free_.”

“Do you really not get it?” the Commander demanded. “I _can’t save everyone_! That may be what I _want_ , but I have to _accept_ that is not going to happen! We don’t live in a _fantasy_ where one hero saves all the poor innocent people, we live in _reality_ and in _reality people die!”_

“Is that your excuse?” She demanded, standing up. “It’s reality, so we shouldn’t even try?”

The Commander’s hand unconsciously fell to his hip where his pistol was securely fastened. “That isn’t _anything_ like what I said!”

“Yes it is,” Farida stated with absolute certainty. “Stop lying to yourself.”

He wasn’t sure how to properly respond to that. He was absolutely sick of this, and her twisting of what he said so it would have the maximum impact. This perversion of Farida was the worst kind of politician, one who took everything he said and turned into the worst possible interpretation. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, not when there was so much else to do.

“Do it,” Farida dared. “Kill me. Take the easy way out and end the dream. Run away like you do from the hard questions.”

It would be _really_ easy to do it. It wasn’t as though she deserved anything else. But he was also filled with a passion to deliberately hold back to not let this ghost have the satisfaction. He closed his eyes, consciously relaxed and opened them once more to Farida’s disappointed face.

“Typical,” she snorted. “Not making a decision when it counts.” Her hand suddenly flew to her throat, eyes flying wider as she realized that the Commander wasn’t the one telekinetically choking her. Her neck suddenly twisted sharply to the left and she collapsed to the ground, dead as much as could be in a dream.

For some reason, the Commander wasn’t as surprised as he should have been. “She is, as you humans say, ‘A piece of work,’” Aegis commented neutrally as he walked up, unchanged from the last time they’d spoken. But this time, his deep and echoing voice held an undercurrent of seriousness that was impossible to ignore.

The Commander physically calmed himself, before turning to deal with the newest problem. “I did wonder if I’d see you again. I can guess why you’ve come.”

Aegis stared up him for a few seconds, his human form as still as stone. “You killed one of us.”

“I know,” the Commander answered. “Trust me, you don’t need to remind me. I did warn-“

“You don’t understand,” Aegis interrupted, his layered voice becoming more pronounced. _“You killed one of us_. That shouldn’t have happened. It should have been _impossible_.”

“Based on what?” the Commander demanded, trying not to sound too smug. “Because you should have been invincible. Everything can die, and your kind are no different.”

“No, we are not,” Aegis snapped. “But _not to you_. Not to a species who hasn’t even left their _homeworld_.”

“That is your own fault,” the Commander stated bluntly. “You wanted to test us, and because of that you gave us the tools to kill you. Why are you even this upset? That was the test, yes? To see _if_ we could kill one of you.”

“An Ethereal would never be sacrificed just to make such a pointless demonstration,” Aegis answered firmly. “We know the potential of your species, there was no need to kill one of our own to prove it.”

Huh. Well…that was interesting. He frowned. “Then what did the Imperator mean then?”

Aegis’ head snapped to him and he began slowly circling him. “Where did you learn that name?” He asked slowly; deliberately. So nothing would be misunderstood.

The Commander blinked. “An Ethereal calling himself the Imperator contacted Patricia, as you’re doing to me now.” Even though Aegis didn’t react, the Commander was fairly sure he knew what was happening. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“What did he say?” Aegis asked slowly, tangible power gathering around him as he stared directly at the Commander.

“That there was one final test we had to pass, and that we would know when it happened,” the Commander answered, maintaining his stare. “Patricia surmised that it meant killing an Ethereal, especially since there is no other test that we could face, short of a full invasion.”

“Humanity passed the final test when you killed the Hive Commander,” Aegis stated flatly. “There was no other test. The only decision that remained was what to do with your species.”

“I don’t believe Patricia was lying,” the Commander defended. “Unless you have another idea?”

Aegis looked away into the snow. “No, just the opposite. I do believe you, and I wish it wasn’t true.”

“More of your kind are going to die,” the Commander warned, walking over to him. “Win or lose, humanity is only going to get stronger. You started this war, Aegis, you and your kind. Don’t act sad when you have to deal with the consequences.”

“We made a mistake,” Aegis said.

The Commander looked at him in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Humanity,” he clarified emotionlessly. “We made a mistake. I see that now. There was a reason we were sent to your world, and it wasn’t because you make excellent soldiers.”

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “Sent?”

“I am referring to myself and the others dealing with your world,” Aegis clarified. “I should have known there was more to this when the Imperator took a direct interest in your species, going so far as to contact one, apparently. There is only one reason for that, when even the Sectoids and Vitakara were dismissed by him.”

This was certainly interesting. “And what would that reason be?”

Aegis was silent for a few moments. “Not yet, Commander. But both our species’ roles are different than what I originally thought. We cannot continue as we were, for the sake of the galaxy.”

The Commander snorted. “What, you think that this will end in _peace_? I doubt that the Imperator will stand for one of his own dying, and you’re deluded if you think we would ever trust you after what you’ve done already.”

“I agree,” Aegis said after a few moments. “War is inevitable, and you know it will escalate soon. There is little you can do to prepare. Your armies are nothing against our own, your species is too diverse, too scattered to form a resistance. You don’t have enough powerful psions to mount a successful defense.”

The Commander’s lips curled up. “I know. But leave the details to me. Why do you even care? As it stands you’re on the right side, militarily.”

Aegis was silent at that. Then he pointed in the distance. “See that?”

The Commander squinted in the distance. There was some sort of squarish building ahead, with a hangar-like building nearby. “What is that?”

“EXALT’s headquarters,” Aegis answered wistfully. “The Bastion. You know the coordinates now. What you do with them is up to you.”

The Commander turned to him incredulously. “I’ve asked this before, but why are you helping me?”

“Because, Commander, you need all the help you can get.” Aegis looked over to him. “We will not speak again here. Use what I’ve given you well. Your time is short, and the next time we will meet, it will be on Earth.”

The Commander inclined his head. “Very well. Regardless of your reasons, I am thankful. It will be an honor to kill you on the battlefield.”

Aegis smiled. “Be careful what you wish for, Commander. You might get it.”

The entire world vanished and he woke up.

***

_The Citadel, Commander’s Bedroom_

He woke with a gasp, unfortunately startling Vahlen who was lying next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. She shifted as she woke up, looking up at him blearily. What Aegis had said was important, but it could wait a few more hours until everyone was fully awake. “Sorry,” he apologized, relaxing back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, we’ve still got a few hours.”

She might have bought that, had she not been a psion. Instead she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and fixed him with an analytical stare while he sensed her probing at him. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “Bad dream?”

He wasn’t sure if she was trying to be funny or not, but he didn’t really feel amused either way. He sighed and sat himself up a little straighter. “Something like that, I suppose. Usually don’t wake up quite that dramatically.”

Vahlen also sat herself up, looking at him with a frown. “I think you mentioned this before. You don’t sleep well, thought you never explained why.”

“I did,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Lucid dreaming. Been happening to me as long as I can remember. Frequently too, very rarely do I get a night of sleep with nothing.”

The worry eased, then morphed into curiosity. Well, in her defense, it _was_ interesting. “Really?” She asked curiously. “That’s incredible.”

He snorted. “It was incredible when I was a kid. Not so much now.” He paused, trying to think of how to articulate it. “Now it’s mostly just judgments and arguments, while my subconscious forces me to defend all of my actions. Literally arguing with myself, but it never _feels_ that way, even when I know none of it is real.”

Vahlen went back to being concerned. “And you remember everything? Can’t you control it?”

“I can _delay_ it,” he clarified. “But it always comes back. I can’t get rid of it forever, and there’s only been two ways I die or I kill the one arguing with me. Alternatively, I get kicked out by a psion, though that’s only happened when Aegis has shown up.”

“Ah,” she laid one of her hands on his mechanical one. “Are they people you know? Have known?”

“It never really started like this until the War on Terror,” he admitted. “But ever since then it’s only been one. Farida. Or her likeness at least.”

“I see,” Vahlen said slowly. “So you’ve…”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t tried to…” Vahlen motioned aimlessly. “Remove it…her. You’re psionic now, so that might help.”

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t want to, as tiring as it is. I need to be able to defend what I do, even if ultimately it doesn’t matter. Sometimes enemies are more honest than friends.”

Vahlen looked like she was going to question that, but then relaxed some. “I understand that, although our work is hard enough without dealing with imaginary opponents.”

He chuckled. “Yes, true. But it’s always just a dream and I wake up. It’s better to wake up now when I’m not alone anymore.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, moving over to lean against him. “You should take your advice and try to get back to sleep. Even if just for a bit.”

Unfortunately he _did_ need to bring up the other part. “It wasn’t just that this time either. Aegis showed up.”

Vahlen stiffened against him. “What did he say?”

“I think…” the Commander said slowly. “That the Ethereals may not be as honest with each other as we thought. He was genuinely surprised that we killed the Ethereal, and said that we-humanity-had passed whatever tests they had set out for us long ago.”

Vahlen looked up at him. “So does that mean the Imperator was lying…or didn’t tell them?”

“Both, perhaps,” the Commander suggested. “But he seemed upset that we’d managed to kill one at all. It _wasn’t supposed to happen_ , so he says. He didn’t elaborate why, but I think there’s a lot more going on than we know about.”

“And are they going to retaliate?”

“Aegis said there would be war,” the Commander revealed grimly. “That our time is short. Not that we needed confirmation, but…I suppose we know for sure now.”

“Why does he bother?” Vahlen asked. “It seems…counterproductive.”

“He was cagey about that as well,” the Commander shrugged. “Perhaps he’s got his own plan. But he also shared something else: the location of EXALT’s main base of operations. The Bastion.”

“Well, that saves us some time,” Vahlen muttered. “Though we likely would have found it quickly thanks to Annette. But it’s still curious. The rest of the Internal Council will need to hear it.”

“Let’s deal with that in a few hours,” the Commander suggested, lying back down. “I don’t think we’ll have to deal with a major crisis for a while.” She snuggled against him and they fell back asleep within a few minutes.

***

_Israel, Tel Aviv_

Two guards, limited security cameras, windows and a cloudy night.

Couldn’t get much better than this.

Javed Falka, Iranian Quds Force operative, and EXALT agent looked across the street at his target house. Modest, for a cabinet member, but was definitely the home of someone well-off. He would have thought there would be more security, but he supposed that the Minister of the Economy wouldn’t be a target for hostile agents.

Until now, at least.

Javed wasn’t entirely sure _why_ Director Vyandar and the Spymaster wanted to start a war, but it really wasn’t his place to ask. This was why he’d been inserted into Iran into the first place, to act as an agent to watch and execute orders from above. Granted, he’d genuinely expected that the most he’d be able to give EXALT were Iranian operations, names and strategies.

Especially since Iran wasn’t exactly doing much these days.

That being said, assassinating an Israeli Cabinet member hadn’t been one of the tasks he’d been anticipating having to carry out. He doubted he was the only one either; it was going to take more than one dead Israeli to start a war, even with hard evidence Iran was behind it. So there were undoubtable others, and did make him curious as to the end game.

True, the Middle East wasn’t a stable region, and rather backwards in a lot of ways. Perhaps EXALT was deciding that it was time to change that, and Israel was probably the best force in the region to do so. Whether Israel _actually_ had the capability to wage a war against the entire Middle East was up for debate, but that wasn’t his problem.

Nope. All he had to do was kill the Minister, plant the evidence, and leave.

Fortunately he was good at that. Very good.

Thanks to EXALT agents within the Mossad, he had the schematics for the house, as well as security rotations, camera placements and alarms. More than sufficient for taking out one man. Even easier since he was unmarried and thus alone. No need to worry about messing up a perfect family.

He casually made his way across the street, making sure to keep out of the lines of sight of the guards, then once on the side, snuck a glance up at the lazily swiveling camera. He raised his silenced pistol and fired. It buzzed faintly and stopped moving. Broken. Excellent. One down, four to go.

He began to circle the house, taking care no one was watching and aimed at the second camera and fired. Another down. He continued circling to the other side and repeated the procedure with the last two cameras. Almost too easy, truth be told.

Now for the guards.

Also a simple matter. They weren’t wearing helmets, just typical suits with body armor underneath and no combat gear whatsoever. Javed raised his pistol and fired twice, and both men fell to the ground an instant later, dead. He quickly swept his gaze over the deserted street, and once he was certain no one was looking, rushed over to their bodies and quickly checked their pockets.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, ah, here. He pulled out a keyring with several keys hanging from it. That done, he quickly moved the bodies to the sides of the house in case any civilians came by. What he’d done would definitely incriminate him since he wasn’t wearing gloves, and leaving plenty of DNA evidence for the Israelis to follow.

But that was part of the plan.

The bodies taken care of, he walked up to the door and inserted one of the keys. With a satisfying _click_ the door unlocked and he entered the house. Once inside, he didn’t even bother searching the lower floor since he knew the bedroom was upstairs. Carefully making his way up the creaking steps, he looked cautiously on the top floor, still seeing nothing.

If everything was right, the bedroom would be the second door to the right. Javed quietly walked over to the closed door, reached for the brass handle and pushed. No reaction, so he cautiously opened it fully…

And smiled.

There he was, lying still on the bed without a care in the world right now. He looked tranquil. At peace. Javed didn’t feel the need to drag this out any longer the necessary, so he just aimed directly at the Minister’s head and fired directly into the brain, killing him instantly. As blood soaked the sheets and pillows, he began to mess up the room, to make it look as though a fight had taken place.

First he had to move the body to make it look like he’d at least fought back. He shot him a few more times in the arms and legs, as well as forcing his eyes open. By the time he was done, the bed itself was completely stained red, and the man no longer had a peaceful expression on his face.

Family mementos were knocked off, nightstands overturned, blood smeared here and there. Yes…this was sufficient. There was only one possible thing they could deduce from this: The Minister of the Economy had been assassinated, and it was the Iranian operative Javed Reza responsible.

Because they would learn his identity thanks to the DNA and fingerprint evidence he was leaving behind, and would then begin searching for when he entered Tel Aviv. From there they would find where he’d been staying, as well as some partially burned documents detailing his orders. Fake, of course, but the Iranian seal would survive, as well as proof of his identity.

Enough to conclude without a doubt that this operation had been sanctioned by Iran.

Which was all he wanted.

Job done, he quietly exited the house, making sure to ditch the pistol into a trash can.

His old identity was dead now, and he was exceptionally curious to see where EXALT would place him next.

***

_The Citadel, Mess Hall_

“What do you think will happen now?” Shun asked from across the table. “It doesn’t look like the Commander is going to lock you up. Doesn’t really seem like anyone cares now.”

Nartha had to agree, and had been pleasantly surprised by the fact that the soldiers were being…normal…around him. Not even necessarily friendly, but just…going about their day. Not looking at him, afraid he’d suddenly turn on them. Amazing what fighting against an alien force with them did for trust levels.

But as for what would happen next…he genuinely had no idea.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, lacing his fingers together. “The death of an Ethereal is…unprecedented.”

“It’s never happened before?” Shun pressed curiously. “Ever?”

“Not from any records I’ve found,” Nartha answered. “Though I’m sure there was something that thinned their numbers. But whatever happened to them before, they were essentially invincible to us…until now.”

The corners of her lips twitched. “They’ll want revenge.”

“Not necessarily revenge,” Nartha suggested with a shrug. “But I suspect humanity has just attracted a lot of unwanted attention. The Ethereals won’t take kindly to the death of one of their own. It’s no longer a matter of _if_ an invasion is coming, but _when_.”

“In the state we’re in, that doesn’t look good,” Shun sighed sadly. “A lot of people died. Annette. Myra. Bradford.”

“Samuel,” Nartha added, feeling a wave of sadness come over him. Even if Samuel had never fully forgiven him for lying, he was still a friend to him at the beginning, and Nartha would never forget that. Without Samuel, he might not have gotten as good of an impression of humanity as he had now. “Not just for XCOM either. The mutons and sectoids might not care about individuality, but those Borelians did. The Vitakara government will have questions now.”

“Ah, right,” she sympathized. “I know they were your species. Is there any special burial ceremonies that you do for fallen soldiers?”

“Not for the Lurainian,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Burial varies from species to species normally. Vitakarian funerals are kept low-key, with only immediate family at them. Maybe a few close friends. Usually no extended family or relatives. Not like how you generally do them. But Vitakara in the military don’t get that usually, at best their names are read from a general assembly honoring the fallen. Lurainian and Zararch excluded, of course.”

“Makes sense,” she sighed.

“Besides,” Nartha added with a small smile. “I don’t think Vahlen is particularly concerned about following any last rites.”

“Probably not,” Shun agreed. “So those…other aliens. You recognize them?”

Nartha pursed his lips. “No. I didn’t, and that’s concerning.”

Concerning that it indicated that Ethereals had located a completely new species, and that the Zararch hadn’t been aware such a contact had taken place. If they were already integrated into the main collective, then the Ethereals must have known about them for several years, and if _that_ had happened, then there might be even more alien species they had no idea about.

However…he suspected that the Zar’Chon had known about them. He’d had to, since the Zararch were instrumental in the analysis and integration of new species, it was more likely that he just hadn’t been allowed access to that information, which did make sense. But it wasn’t good news for XCOM, that was for sure.

“How many more species do you think they have?” Shun asked, motioning aimlessly. “Just a rough estimate.”

“They could have a dozen, or none,” Nartha stated bluntly. “I have no idea. I know that there are several highly advanced species further in the galaxy, but nothing about them. Undeveloped species number in the dozens, and species that can actually be used…in the single digits at best.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Really? There is that much sentient life?”

“Yes,” Nartha answered. “But very few reach the state your species is. Most of the time they are hunted to extinction by native animals, a disease wipes them out, or they simply destroy themselves. There are quite a few species the Ethereals find, but don’t utilize simply because they haven’t developed enough. But they do keep tabs on them for sure.”

“But they don’t use them unless they’re viable,” Shun concluded.

“Exactly,” Nartha nodded. “Intelligence isn’t a requirement, only if they can fulfill a certain role. The chryssalids are one such example. Beasts, but ones that are useful weapons of terror. I once looked at the history, and it seems like they started out much smaller. They were insects that reproduced in the bodies of other creatures, but generally weren’t aggressive except during certain times.”

“So how were they found in the first place?” Shun asked.

“Well…” Nartha paused, leaning back as he thought. “It was a planet with an underdeveloped species. Nothing worth noting. But one of the observers noticed the insects and that got the attention of an Ethereal, I don’t know which one. But I know that the sectoids were ordered to examine the insect, and they created a prototype chryssalid they use today.”

“Lucky guess,” Shun commented. “Did they…test it?”

“Of course they tested it,” Nartha snorted. “They released it back onto the planet and that one chryssalid managed to virtually eradicate the native species, and pretty much everything else that was alive. The experiment was a success, and chryssalids became the newest weapon in the Ethereal arsenal.”

Shun looked down at her plate of food, picking at it absentmindedly. “They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”

“That they are,” Nartha agreed. “Moving back to what happens next…well, I don’t think you have to fear your species being wiped out. You’ve proven you have value, and the Ethereals won’t just throw away a species that has the potential to kill them.”

Shun looked him in the eye. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“That they’ll use you?”

“That we’ll _agree_ to it,” she amended wearily. “Humans…most of us aren’t that smart or brave. A planet-wide war will lead to fatigue, and fatigue will lead to protests, and protests will lead to rebellion and soon the Ethereals will just offer peace if we surrender…and I’m afraid most of us will. Especially if the alternative is a never-ending war with a collective that outmatches us in every way.”

“XCOM will never give up,” Nartha stated. “I don’t think the governments will either.”

“You know of the domino effect?” She asked.

He nodded. “It won’t happen all at one,” she continued. “But once it does, it will only get larger. One country will surrender, then two more. Then that gets the other countries wondering if it’s worth it. Then say the Ethereals take those countries that surrendered and turn them into false paradises; places they can point to and lie ‘Look at what we can offer you,’ people are going to fall for that, XCOM or no.”

She unfortunately had a point. “I don’t think the Commander will allow that,” he said, knowing how unrealistic that sounded.

“But what can he do about it?” She asked. “Take command of each country himself? Establish XCOM as the new world government?”

“Not as long as the UN still stands,” Nartha muttered.

“Forget the UN,” Shun dismissed. “No one cares about them. The countries care about _sovereignty. Independence_. Working together is only needed when both sides clearly benefit. Nations won’t willingly give up that, not even when refusing means the death or enslavement of everyone. I don’t delude myself. China would never submit to being under a world power, and I doubt the United States or Russia would agree to something like that either.”

“You have a somewhat cynical view of your own species,” he noted. “Why?”

“You know what I did,” Shun sighed. “I’ve seen how easily people can be controlled, how little some of them think. They don’t care about ideals, freedom or anything like that. The most important thing I’ve seen for the vast majority is _stability_. As long as people are kept content, they can be controlled. Talk to those North Koreans if you want to see effective indoctrination in practice. There is an art to controlling people…and it’s not difficult.”

“In that case…” Nartha paused. “Could that be used to our advantage?”

“Probably,” Shun shrugged. “But I’m just a soldier now. That’s _way_ above me, but I do have faith the Commander knows what he’s doing. Zhang and Patricia to.”

“We’ll I’ll hope for the best,” Nartha said. “I suspect I won’t be here much longer, even if the Commander has forgotten about me for the moment.”

“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“I don’t think I can tell you,” he said slowly. “But it won’t be here.”

She studied him for a few minutes, clearly thinking what that could mean. She was a smart woman, so it probably didn’t take her that long to suspect. “You think we’ll meet again?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope so.”

“So do I,” she agreed quietly. “You definitely are a lot more interesting than I first assumed.”

He smiled. “I’ll take what I can get. You are interesting to talk to as well.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected when two species meet,” she commented. “I hope this ends with us winning. After what you’ve told me, I’d love to see Vitakar.”

As did he. “We do that, and I’ll show you it personally.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said happily, her face relaxing a bit. Then it quickly returned to seriousness. “Looks like you’ve got company coming.”

Nartha turned to see Zhang walking up to him. “This might be it,” he told Shun, turning back to her. “In that case…goodbye.”

She inclined her head. “Goodbye, Nartha. 活着的我.”

He didn’t know what she said, but perhaps that was alright. He wouldn’t be sad to leave Earth knowing that he had a friend here. Give him something of a connection beyond the greater war. He stood and walked over to Zhang. “Come with me,” the tall Chinese man ordered, no room for questioning in his voice.

Nartha obediently followed, feeling rather small beside the much larger man. He’d never really noticed that before, even though Zhang had interrogated him several times. Sitting apparently made a difference. “So what am I going to be doing?” He asked.

“What we discussed,” Zhang stated. “The Commander has decided to release you back to the Zararch to act as an agent. As you’re more familiar with them, what story you tell them will be up to you, as well as deciding the method of contact between us. And while you’re there…there is something you will also do.”

Nartha nodded, the cold reality of the situation setting down on him. Fortunately he’d thought of this ahead of time, during one of his long bouts in the cell. He did wonder what they specifically wanted from him, but he figured he’d know that soon enough. “Understood, Director. Here is what my plan is...”

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

Of course there was a new crisis.

The good news was that it didn’t sound like an invasion, but Jackson had sounded… _concerned_ , and the fact that Zhang was coming up as well didn’t bode well for the scale of this new crisis. Though he did wonder what could possibly warrant it, besides a war or a Council nation withdrawing. Perhaps the aliens were performing an abduction or a UFO was in the air? Best case scenario probably.

Whatever the case, Mission Control was as busy as he’d ever seen it, especially since Jackson’s team was still replacing staff, though they had enough to function adequately now. It was a good thing they’d had replacements already lined up in the event one had to be replaced. It was doubly hectic since the Hephaestus Contingency was being implemented, and they were working with banged-up equipment.

The air in Mission Control still smelled slightly of plasma and ozone, as the holes and scorch marks in the walls hadn’t been removed yet, as repairing the computers had taken priority. The hologlobe was back to being functional, as well as all the screens. Zhang and Jackson were conversing over by another screen, Jackson feeling concerned, while Zhang felt…well, curious. And oddly enough, surprised.

It Zhang was surprised, that wasn’t good. Ignoring the rest of the analysts, he strode over to them, both turning as he approached. “What’s going on?”

“A _lot_ ,” Jackson answered unhelpfully, pushing her hair back before consulting her tablet. “So what do you want first? The bad news, the _other_ bad news or the good news?”

“Bad news first,” he answered instantly. “Let’s get that out of the way.”

“Right,” she sighed. “At least half of the Israeli Executive Cabinet is dead.”

The Commander blinked, several scenarios running though his mind. “Dead? Or _assassinated_?”

“Those two are not mutually exclusive,” Zhang commented dryly. “Officially, unconfirmed. Unofficially, there was a coordinated strike on the Israeli government.”

“Who exactly died?” He demanded, as Jackson handed him the tablet.

“I think it’s easier to say who’s still _alive_ ,” she amended. “Which in essence boils down to Ministers who don’t deal with matters of national security or the economy. The Minister of Justice is in critical condition, but they’re hopeful he’ll pull through.”

“Do we know who?” He asked, looking up at them.

“There are conflicting reports so far,” Zhang answered, brow furrowing. “They have confirmed one of the assassins was Iranian, and it appears like several of the others are from Saudi Arabia, Iraq and possible Yemen.”

“So this looks like a coordinated strike,” he said slowly. “Is there any evidence?”

“They have one of the suspects in custody now,” Jackson informed. “But yes…and the government is slowly releasing it to the public. The police, Mossad and several independent investigators are going through everything.”

“And the Prime Minister?”

“Alive,” Jackson said sadly. “But likely because he wasn’t at his home when the assassin entered. His family was killed instead.”

The Commander was legitimately surprised. Not that something like this _had_ happened, since he’d suspected that would be what it took for Nowinski to enact his Advent Operation. No, what surprised him was that this seemed to be _legitimate_. The Middle East seemed to have effectively declared war on Israel and he had no clue as to why.

“Are there any formal accusations yet?” He asked slowly, looking up at one of the muted screens running the story.

“Nothing official,” Zhang repeated. “Though Nowinski had set a press conference at one. I suspect then it will happen. But the evidence released to the media seems to clearly indicate where the blame is going to be laid.”

“Why the hell would they do this?” He muttered incredulously. “Excluding the aliens, this is how you get Israel to start a justified war. The United States might become involved now.”

“It is puzzling,” Zhang admitted slowly. “There was no indication that anything like this was being planned, let alone coordinated by other countries. Perhaps they feel this is their last chance before the aliens come?”

“How have they responded so far?” He asked.

“Saudia Arabia is silent, as is Iraq,” Jackson answered. “Iran has vehemently denied that it was behind it, citing either a rogue agent or a set up by another nation.”

“At least they didn’t accuse Israel of planting it themselves,” the Commander muttered. “But do they really think Israel is going to believe that? Or anyone else for that matter? Who else besides the rest of the Middle East would attack them?”

“Not to this scale,” Jackson agreed, shaking her head. “And the attacks are receiving universal condemnation from across the world. Both the United States and Russia have pledged to support Israel moving forward. We might want to make a statement as well, as they are our allies.”

“I’ll draft something,” he promised. “But I think it’s clear which way this is going now. Israel is going to take control of the Middle East and I wager war will be declared at this press conference.”

“Considering the number of Israeli troops moving out, as well as Russian mobilization, I tend to agree,” Zhang confirmed. “This will ultimately help us.”

“But the timing couldn’t be worse,” the Commander said. “A war, even with the backing of Russia and America, will take months. The Ethereals will catch them in the middle of it, and we need Israel fighting the _aliens_ , not other countries.”

“But he doesn’t know what we do,” Jackson pointed out. “By his reasoning, Nowinski probably thinks that there won’t be a better chance. And he really has no choice in his response. Others forced his hand.”

Which was the problem. Nowinski was not only going to get to take control of the Middle East, he was going to do it completely _justified_. If one or two people had been assassinated, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the Kidon had actually been behind it. But half the cabinet, and his family? No, not even Nowinski would go that far. At the moment, he doubted that the aliens were the first concern on his mind.

“Keep monitoring the situation,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “And set up a meeting with Nowinski when you can. I should talk to him before the war starts.”

“Will do,” Jackson nodded.

“So…” the Commander braced himself. “The next bad news?”

“Right…” Jackson’s mood soured considerably. “Brazil has officially invaded Bolivia and Paraguay as of four hours ago.”

The Commander cocked his head, not sure he’d heard correctly. “ _Why_?”

“It recently came to light that those countries had been partially funding several of the cartels that the Marshal has been trying so hard to get rid of,” she explained grimly. “That appears to be an act of war in her books, and she wasted no time sending soldiers to retaliate.”

“Is it even legitimate?” He asked.

“It does appear so,” Zhang confirmed. “Several high-ranking members of both governments had cartel ties, and even if there’s no evidence their respective heads of state knew about it, I find that hard to believe. As does the Marshal, apparently.”

“Attacking without solid proof is not good,” the Commander said. “Several dirty politicians isn’t enough to warrant an invasion.”

“The Marshal doesn’t need a reason,” Jackson scowled. “That’s just how she is. She wants to expand Brazil and will take any opportunity presented before her, and will likely have the backing of the people. And few are really talking about this because of the situation in Israel.”

The Commander scratched his chin. Something didn’t seem right here. “This seems like a massive coincidence. Two wars at the same time? Within hours of each other? Something doesn’t add up.”

“I agree,” Zhang nodded. “As legitimate as this looks, I suspect that everyone involved is being manipulated. The question is who.”

“There really are only two possible groups that could be connected to both incidents,” Jackson said slowly. “EXALT and the aliens themselves.”

“If we didn’t know the Zararch had agents who could impersonate humans, I would say EXALT,” the Commander said. “But EXALT starting these wars makes no sense, especially since they’ve likely learned we were attacked and survived. They have to know an invasion is coming. Starting wars isn’t really conductive to that.”

“Whereas the aliens can take full advantage of it,” Zhang finished with a nod. “With one fell swoop they’ve taken Brazil and Israel out of the immediate picture, as well as the Middle East, and portions of the United States and Russia. Several of the largest countries in the world without firing a shot.”

“Damn,” he cursed. “In which case EXALT may be in more trouble than we assumed, if the aliens are relying on their own agents instead of supposedly _allied_ EXALT ones.”

“There is the possibility EXALT betrayed us,” Jackson pointed out. “The Ethereals might have cleaned house and installed friendly puppets.”

“Except that the Director would have planned for that,” the Commander answered. “At the very least there’d be a civil war in EXALT right now, and unless you’ve heard something about that, I don’t think that’s happened.”

“I’ve not seen anything to indicate such,” Zhang admitted. “But…this is assuming that EXALT wasn’t buying time to begin with.”

“They’ve kept to their truce so far,” the Commander reminded him. “But since we know their base, I’ll be sure to mention something of that effect to the Director when I pay her a visit.”

“I also doubt it’s EXALT,” Jackson added. “Seeing as how both Israel and Brazil are allies, I don’t really see how this gains them any sort of advantage. Unless they have a death wish, using the chaos to insert their own people is the only way I see they could gain. And under ADVENT, all government officials will be psionically screened, which would reveal any EXALT or alien moles.”

“They know we have psions,” the Commander agreed. “They would have to know it’s too much of a risk.”

“We’ll have to wait and see how both situations play out,” Zhang agreed. “My own operatives will keep a close eye on both governments.”

“In the meantime, you had some good news?” The Commander asked, turning back to Jackson.

“We do,” she confirmed, relaxing a bit. “We’ve definitely located an alien base in the Arctic. We have visuals, coordinates, everything. No outward defenses that we can see, but I’m certain it’s occupied.” She handed him the tablet with a satellite image of the base, a mostly rectangular building with ramps along the sides. Definitely alien, and probably went underground as well.

“We should probably strike now then,” the Commander said. “Before the invasion hits.”

“Skyranger is prepped and ready,” Jackson confirmed. “All we need is a team.”

“I’ll have a team put together,” the Commander said. “Including me and Patricia.”

“Noted,” Jackson nodded. “I’ll keep everything running here, and hopefully within a few days we’ll be ready to fully transition to the new base. Speaking of which, do you have a name?”

“A couple,” he mused. “But I’ll make that decision later. Right now it’s time for the aliens to defend a base of their own.”

Zhang inclined his head. “Then good luck, Commander. We will be monitoring the situation from here.”

“Good luck to you as well,” the Commander answered, turning to prepare for the attack. “Let’s hope this attack goes a little better than the last one.”


	45. Ours Are The Furies

 

_The Citadel, Barracks_

“What the hell were they thinking?” Creed said in disbelief as they watched the news. Normally Patricia doubted that this was what couples did to relax, although she did enjoy leaning up against him on the barracks couch. But oftentimes these days, keeping up with current events was as necessary as it was entertaining.

Less of the latter today, and she echoed his sentiments. “I don’t know.”

And she really didn’t. No more than the Commander, who’d briefed her on the situation. The working theory was that these were alien agents working to cause chaos before the invasion…but then one of the captives was identified as a full human, so that threw a wrench into that. She’d immediately suspected psionics, which the aliens _would_ have utilized if they were smart.

He looked down at her with concern. “Do you really think any of the Middle East would think this was a good idea?”

“I guess it depends on their priorities,” Patricia sighed against him. “Again, I don’t know. They might not care as much about the aliens, or simply hate Israel more. But it isn’t good regardless. The last thing the world needs is another war.”

Creed pursed his lips and looked back to the screen. “Well, if they wanted a war, they are _getting_ a war.”

That they most certainly were. Nowinski hadn’t made an _official_ declaration of war, but he’d stated that the perpetrators would be brought to justice, as would those who commanded them. Which told her that he wanted to make the case as airtight as possible before making any major decisions. Which was smart and should be commended.

“His whole family was killed,” she muttered sadly, noting that the Prime Minister had visibly kept his composure several times. He looked awful, though not unexpected for a man in his situation. “I’m almost surprised he’s showing this much restraint.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have a choice,” Creed suggested with the same gravity. “If he wasn’t in charge of a nation, it might be different. He can’t look like he wants this fight if he hopes to get international support.”

Patricia snorted. “He’ll have no problem with that. He’s already secured American and Russian support. Anything else is just a bonus. But you do have a point.”

They both were silent for a few minutes, still watching, with several of the other soldiers also paying attention from the back. “So what do you think is going to happen?” He asked quietly. “What you can tell me, I mean.”

She felt some echo of frustration from him not knowing everything she did, but she deeply appreciated how he’d done his best to work with it. It wasn’t fair to him, but she had to keep secrets, but he knew that, so it made it easier for both of them. Fortunate he wasn’t a psion as well, else this would be a little more difficult.

“Israel will probably control the Middle East by summer,” she said, since that was just speculation. “Depending on how much Brazil pushes…and how the other countries respond…I don’t know.”

But what she didn’t mention was that ADVENT would likely be established sometime in the middle of the conflicts. And since both nations were ADVENT members, they would be receiving official ADVENT support, which would hopefully put an end to both wars swiftly so they could focus on the aliens. In the unlikely event that the aliens _hadn’t_ invaded, it would give them precious little time to put a unified defense in place.

Creed sighed. “I guess my other question is what _we_ are going to do. How long can XCOM stay out of it? Especially since we’re allied with both countries.”

“XCOM is for fighting the aliens,” Patricia answered firmly. “The Commander doesn’t seem to want us to get involved in terrestrial conflicts.” _That was probably a reason why he wanted ADVENT._ She finished in her mind. “Unless we receive proof of alien involvement, I doubt we’re going to intervene. Support, yes, maybe, but not send troops.”

“Probably the smartest move,” Creed nodded. “I really don’t know the best solution. I find it hard to believe that this many countries would make an attack like this now…but it’s clearly happened. There needs to be something done. I just wish a war wasn’t the solution.”

“I think everyone here thinks that,” Patricia agreed. “But there’s not much we can do now except wait and see what happens.”

Her wristband buzzed and she reluctantly straightened up, reaching for the remote to shut off the TV. “Sounds like the Commander is ready.”

Creed nodded and stood, moving to his locker as did several other soldiers. “Do we know much about this base?”

“Not really,” Patricia admitted as she got armored up. “But considering the other base, I’m guessing they’ll likely be another commander, and it’ll be heavily guarded.”

“How many is he bringing?” Creed asked as she helped him with his chest armor.

“A skyranger, plus one MEC,” she answered while she strapped him up and tightened his armor. “This is as much retaliation as seizing the opportunity.”

“They hit our base, we hit theirs,” Creed noted with a smile. “Sounds good to me.”

“Agreed, now help me with this,” she ordered, lifting her own armor which he helped place over her shoulders. The Aegis armor definitely was much easier to put on when two people helped each other out. She did find it a little funny how happy he was just helping her out like this. A true gentleman, he.

“That good?” He asked as he finished tightening her armor up.

“Perfect,” she complimented, reaching to her gauntlets, pulling them up until she heard a _click_ as they snapped into place. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he confirmed as he placed his helmet on and grabbed his rifle. She did the same, swinging her own weapon over her shoulder.

“Let’s move out,” she said, moving towards the exit, already sensing the Commander there. “I don’t think we should keep him waiting too long.”

***

_The Citadel, Hangar_

“May I ask a personal question, Commander?”

The Commander turned to the operative decked out in dark green Aegis armor, her pulse rifle professionally at the ready. Even if he hadn’t known she was a Marine, he would have definitely placed her as American special forces. He’d been around enough to them to know each group had their own unique _presence_ , that was simply a reassurance that these people knew what they were doing. Sierra Morrow was no exception.

“Certainly,” he answered, turning to her. “What do you want to know?”

He definitely sensed her hesitation, since she wasn’t used to talking this casually with her direct superior. But still, she continued. “You served in the military, right? Which branch, if you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled under his helmet. “Not quite. CIA, doing mostly classified field work.”

“An agent?” She asked, or more _reacted_. “I…didn’t think of that.”

“Huh,” Carmelita commented, walking up. “I wouldn’t have guessed either. You don’t seem the type.”

He snorted. “The CIA needed more than just spooks, and it happened that I was good at infiltration _and_ special operations. That’s probably why you haven’t heard of me.”

“Ah,” Sierra nodded. “That makes sense, sir.”

“I also had a comment,” the Indian MARCOS operative, Meru Paras asked, finally taking part in the conversation. “Is it an American thing to refer to titles only?”

“No,” he answered. “But it’s how I do it. ‘Commander’ is sufficient as far as I’m concerned. You wouldn’t know my name even if I revealed it.”

“Does anyone?” Carmelita asked, more as a joke than anything.

The Commander kept his voice neutral as he answered. “Only a few.”

“So what were you a part of?” Meru asked Sierra. “United States military, I assume?”

“Marine RECON,” she answered proudly, straightening up some more. “Special forces, like you, I assume. Not quite as famous as the SEALS, but we’re fine with that.”

“Don’t let Creed know,” Carmelita chuckled. “He’ll probably take it as a challenge. You guys like to compete with each other.”

“Maybe he does,” Sierra shrugged. “But I don’t. Don’t really care about competitions after New York. I just want to fight the aliens.”

“You knew people there?” The Commander asked, since he hadn’t been aware that she’d known anyone in the city.

“Several of my friends moved a while ago,” she answered nonchalantly, an act since he could sense she didn’t want to talk about it. “Wasn’t able to contact them after the attack. Just assuming the worst at this point.”

“My condolences,” Meru said, inclining his head.

“Thanks,”

The door to the Hangar hissed open and Patricia finally walked through, with Creed, Seok and Shun behind her. The Commander nodded to Riley who quickly ran into the skyranger to prepare it. “Ready to go, Commander,” Patricia said, stopping right before him and saluted.

“Good,” he answered. “Load up! Time to give the aliens some payback.”

“Ho-rah,” Sierra said in response. “Let’s go!”

***

_Skyranger, En Route to Alien Base_

They were all ready to extract some vengeance on this mission as they had all lost friends in the attack, not counting others the aliens had killed before. No fear for what they might find here, the presence of the Commander and…her…were clearly some of the reasons for that, which she’d just gotten used to.

Patricia rested against the skyranger back, her hands clasped together and resting on her legs. The others weren’t quite as relaxed, but they were definitely calm, and she was fairly sure part of that was an aftereffect of her own relaxation. It was clearly possible to affect people psionically just being around them, as the Ethereal had shown, though she wasn’t exactly sure that should be a skill to cultivate.

It was already questionable enough she could sense their emotions without them knowing, but affecting their minds was not something she wanted to do unless absolutely necessary. But the thing she was realizing with psionics was that it couldn’t just be _turned off_. It seemed the more powerful she became, the more invasive her powers were. Perhaps it was a bit different for her since she was a telepath as opposed to a telekinetic like the Commander, but still, there was probably some overlap.

“So what do we know about the base?” Carmelita finally asked.

“Just the immediate terrain and location,” the Commander answered, addressing all of them. “The base is almost completely exposed, and is vulnerable to all sides since there is no natural terrain defenses.”

“Which may be a problem for us,” Shun noted slowly, messing with her gauss pistol. “We’ll be completely exposed charging forward.”

“We will,” the Commander nodded. “But we do have several people to mitigate that. Patricia and Sanya can cause enough problems for the rest of us to get into a good position.”

Patricia nodded. “I doubt their defenses will be completely automated. Any alien they have can be controlled by me.”

“Unless they have something new,” Meru noted. “They seemed to have some reserve units in the attack.”

“Which is a concern,” Patricia conceded. “But I doubt all of them will be. I will also be able to defend against hostile psions if they have a Hive Commander in charge.”

“Which we need to be aware of as well,” the Commander added. “It’s reasonable to assume the aliens have placed some kind of overseer in charge. It might not be a Hive Commander, but at the very least we should expect an intelligent opponent.”

“Who else would it be?” Sierra asked. “Besides an Ethereal, what other species has the intelligence besides a Hive Commander?”

“The Vitakara?” Creed suggested. “Perhaps those suited aliens? They seemed smarter than the mutons.”

“The Vitakara are fairly important to the Ethereals,” the Commander nodded. “It depends on what kind of base this is. I’d expect a Hive Commander at a primarily scientific base, and perhaps a Vitakara in a more administrative role.”

“Or intelligence,” Shun pointed out. “They do run the Ethereal spy network, right?”

Shun did have a good point. “Let’s hope it’s a Vitakara,” Seok said cheerily. “Makes for an easy fight for Patricia. Boom, mind control.”

“I have to locate him first,” Patricia amended. “And being that overconfident is…preemptive? I would be surprised if the Vitakara hadn’t developed some form of anti-psionic defenses.”

“If that were the case, then why not use them before?” Creed pointed out. “That would have taken care of the biggest threat to them, you.”

She ironically found it flattering that she would be considered the biggest threat, but she did see his point. “Good question, but it seems odd that they wouldn’t develop _something_ especially since we’re psionically capable.”

“I’d imagine it’s a form of control,” Shun suggested. “Giving a species the ability to negate your greatest strength is a massive risk. Given that the Ethereals are _powerful_ psionics _and_ are supposedly rare, I don’t think it’d be a stretch to be concerned that a much more numerous species might decide to turn on them if they could negate their biggest advantage.”

She and the Commander exchanged a helmeted look, and she could tell he’d been thinking the same thing. Shun was right, and that matched up with what Nartha had said about the Vitakara who’d felt helpless in rebelling. They had no reliable way to negate psionics, and if that was _given_ to them….

He gave a single, silent nod. Yes, he was definitely getting some ideas. She had no doubt he’d be having a long conversation with Vahlen later, another project to add to her massive list. Vahlen really needed a second scientist as brilliant as her, since there was so much to develop and so little time.

Something to deal with later.

 _“Commander, this is Burning Sky,”_ Riley said over the intercom, sounding very puzzled. _“We’re coming up on the LZ now, but there’s a complication.”_

“What is it?”

 _“It appears that the aliens are already engaged with a hostile force,”_ she explained. _“I’m going to circle around to get another visual. Gray Sky, hold and prepare to drop.”_

_“Copy that, Burning Sky.”_

All of them looked at each other. Patricia wasn’t quite sure who it could be-

_Oh._

Could that really be?

 _“You’re not going to believe this,”_ Riley told them in disbelief. _“But it appears EXALT forces are also assaulting the base.”_

Even the Commander was surprised. “Really,” he stated slowly. “And you’re positive they’re fighting the aliens?”

_“Positive, Commander. Orders?”_

“Set us down and we proceed as planned,” he answered. “Gray Sky, drop Sanya closer to give them some assistance.”

_“Understood, Commander. Moving in now.”_

“We’re going to help _EXALT?”_ Creed demanded incredulously. Yeah, he wasn’t up to speed on the whole truce thing. He remembered all too clearly the Mexico ambush.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “If they attack us, we’ll take them out. Humans aren’t difficult to control. But otherwise we should use them.”

“Until they shoot us in the back,” Carmelita muttered.

“We have a MEC, two psions, two skyrangers and far more advanced armor and weapons,” the Commander rattled off. “We’ll know if they betray us, and I doubt it because they aren’t complete idiots. Patricia is right. If they want to help us, then we’ll take it. Do _not_ shoot any EXALT soldiers unless fired on first. Am I clear?”

There was quite a bit of uncertainty, but all of them confirmed with a “Yes, Commander.”

The skyranger lights flashed red. The Commander stood as did all of them, forming into rows of two behind him and Carmelita as the skyranger went into a sharp dip. Now Patricia could sense the fight much more clearly, alien and human minds all focused on killing each other. Fear. Joy. Pain. Horror. All that from both sides.

The skyranger set down softly and the ramp lowered and they were immediately assaulted with a barrage of fresh snow, as it seemed a blizzard or snowstorm was getting started. Patricia grinned. Nothing really like charging to take an alien base in the middle of dangerous weather.

“Deploy!” The Commander ordered, and they charged out into the ever-growing snowstorm.

***

_The Arctic_

The Commander paused for a moment as he took a moment to survey the scene in front of him, as the aliens had not really noticed them yet. There was a vast expanse of snow in front of them, and with the snowstorm giving them some cover, it would give them a chance to get closer unnoticed. Unfortunately, that also meant that their own view of the situation was blurred a bit.

“Forward, weapons up!” He ordered as they marched towards the battle.

 _“Engaging hostiles,”_ Sanya informed, and he heard some surprised shouts and alien screams as the massive MEC made his entrance.

They were close enough now that he could see the base pretty well, and it seemed like there was more cover than he’d initially thought. Several walls of alloy barriers had been deployed in front of the base and he could see at least ten figures shooting plasma at the EXALT soldiers who had taken cover behind the farthest alloy barrier, as well as their own deployable cover.

He adjusted his voice projection so that the EXALT soldiers could hear him. “Shun, Meru! Take the left! Seok, Sierra, the right! Carmelita, Patricia, take the aliens out, Creed, with me!”

“Acknowledged!” They all more or less answered before dashing out, adding their own fire to the aliens opposite them.

“Take out the gunners!” One of the EXALT soldier roared, pointing to one of the aliens to the left laying down suppressive plasma fire on that position. She might have been in charge, since she was wielding a plasma rifle for some reason, but it drew his attention to the fact that these weren’t the regular aliens they’d seen before.

First off, there were a lot more than he’d thought. At least twenty now that the base doors had opened and more had come out. The majority were primarily Borelians, completely armored similarly to the ones recovered from the UFO transport. They were holding out well, too. He only saw three dead, and they were holding the line for the others to advance.

Three of the aliens seemed to be…different. They wielded massive plasma cannons, even though they weren’t as tall as the Borelians, they were definitely bulkier. Their bodies were completely covered in a bulky black armor, and their faces were completely obscured by eyeless helmets. They were placed strategically as well, only one in the left, right and middle respectively.

The final aliens were humanoid, wearing their own armor, though considerably less bulky than the gunner aliens. It was similar to XCOM armor in its sleekness, though their faces were also covered up by helmets with clouded visors. They appeared to be more specialized. Snipers and support, since he saw two in the back, and one forward treating a wounded Borelian.

All of them were probably Vitakara then. Borelians obviously, the humanoid ones were likely Vitakarian and the gunners…he couldn’t recall the name at the moment, but he suspected they were the underground Vitakara, since the only ones left didn’t fit. Either way, the battle was going to turn.

“Grenade!” Shun yelled and dove to the side, tackling one of the nearby EXALT soldiers as the green blast nearly killed her.

One of the Borelians from the back yelled something, pointing at Sanya who was firing several micro-missiles on the left flank. None of them were hitting, as the aliens were wisely scattering, but it was allowing the XCOM and EXALT soldiers to advance that flank. The alien gunners turned away from their positions and turned to focus on the MEC, while they were supplemented by the Vitakara reinforcing their position.

“Clever,” he muttered as he watched them move, effectively shielding each other with suppressive fire, preventing much return from them. Tactical aliens, something he hadn’t seen for a while.

“These xenos are smarter,” the EXALT woman muttered, sliding into cover. “Any of your people have explosives?”

“Seok,” he answered. “And Sanya, of course.”

“Don’t waste them on the gunners,” she advised going back up to fire off a few more shots. “Damn things seem to be immune.”

“Noted,” he said, firing at several Borelians. “Patricia?”

“Working!” She yelled, letting her weapon drop to the ground as she drew upon her power. He lowered his own weapon and nodded towards Creed.

“Toss a grenade there!” He ordered, lifting his hand in preparation. Creed got the message and tossed it towards a group of three Borelians. The Commander focused on the smaller metallic object and since Creed would have just been a little short normally, an extra telekinetic boost ensured that it hit the aliens at a _much_ faster speed.

They roared as the grenade hit one dead center, while wounded the two closest to it.  “Require assistance,” Sanya called, retreating as his armor was becoming scorched and broken by sustained plasma fire.

“Don’t fight it,” he heard Patricia mutter. “It will all be over soon.”

One EXALT soldier screamed as he was shot by Borelian plasma fire, though was quickly avenged by those around him concentrating their laser fire on the offending alien, while Sierra and Seok kept the others busy.

“The hell?” The EXALT woman said, directing him to look at the alien gunners, as one had suddenly turned on the others, seemingly killing one instantly and the other was engaging in close combat. Several Borelians were falling as well, seemingly from snipers in the back. Now was the change.

“Forward!” he yelled as the forward Vitakara scrambled back, trying to take stock of the new threats. He saw one of the Borelians charge one of the snipers, getting both their attention. The XCOM soldiers took the opportunity to charge to the next barrier line, with EXALT following close behind. Sanya was focusing on the gunner alien which had killed the mind-controlled one and returning its attention to Sanya.

One of the Vitakarian noticed him coming and raised his weapon, though not before the Commander telekinetically grabbed him and lifted, hoisting the humanoid several feet into the air. He concentrated the grasp around the neck, then sharply twisted his wrist, and after seeing the neck snap irreparably, tossed the corpse back towards the retreating Borelians.

The rush of power still in him, he raised his left hand towards two more Borelians and yanked back, seeing them stumble forward and drop their weapons, making it easy for the EXALT soldiers to execute them. “Target eliminated,” Sanya stated, stepping over the corpse of the alien gunner. “Firing barrage.”

“Hold position!” The Commander yelled, crouching behind the barrier as did every other soldier as Sanya planted himself, raised both arms, and fired six missiles in quick succession towards the final pod of Borelians who had nowhere left to run. To their credit, they did try, but the ones that attempted to escape the blast were quickly cut down by a hail of lead and lasers.

The Commander lifted one into the air, and simply watched it get shot several times before letting the body drop. Creed and Sierra killed another straggler and several EXALT soldiers took out a Vitakarian, while the EXALT leader executed another fleeing Borelian. It took several minutes to clear the stragglers, but once it was done, relative silence fell over the battlefield, barring the howl of the wind.

And now that it was over, none of them were quite sure what to do. The Commander definitely felt suspicion from the soldiers, but the woman in front of his seemed very _focused_ and not at all disturbed he was here. “XCOM, I assume,” she said, motioning to her soldiers to keep their weapons lowered. She definitely was the leader, then. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I can say the same about you,” he answered evenly, taking stock of the almost comically short woman. But despite her stature, she had an intensity around her that reminded him of Mira. The orange bandanna around her lower face didn’t hide her piercing eyes, which where most of it seemed to be. Very laser-focused on the objective at hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” she answered slowly. “We’re going to take the base.”

She was definitely telling the truth about that, and he started to nod before Patricia walked up. “Finish that thought,” she said quietly. “That isn’t everything. What _else_ are you here for?”

Several of the EXALT soldiers clearly didn’t like her tone and raised their weapons, at her. She simply looked at them and they gasped a few seconds later, clutching their heads. “Your soldiers should follow your directions better,” she warned, looking back at the woman. “Answer the question.”

The woman clearly knew when she was outdone. “Fine then. The aliens took several psions away from us. We’re going to retrieve them.”

“The Furies?” He asked, surprised.

“You know about them?” She demanded, narrowing her eyes. “How-ah, Subject Four is with you. Of course. How is she?”

“Dead,” he answered curtly. “Died defending XCOM when the Ethereal attacked.”

“Unfortunate,” she mused. “She was a powerful asset.”

The Commander ignored that line of dialogue, as they had more important things to worry about. “Who are you?”

“Zara Venator,” she answered with a nod. “Leader of EXALT’s military and Head of the Venator Family. And you are?”

The pride he felt from those words was interesting. Hmm. “I am the Commander of XCOM.”

“Is that right?” She said slowly. “Well, interesting.” She motioned towards the base. “We’re both here, and the aliens are our enemies. We can either fight each other pointlessly, or take the base together.”

Carmelita chuckled behind him. “That wouldn’t even be a fair fight, us and you.”

“Quiet,” the Commander ordered, raising a hand. “I agree. Better to work together, provided you don’t shoot us in the back.”

Zara clearly found that amusing. “You have two psions and a MEC, besides, I know when I’m outmatched, Commander. Besides, I have no wish to bring XCOM down on us.”

“Good,” he stated. “Because when we recover the Furies, you are not taking them. Understand?”

She was silent for a few moments. “You are not the type to negotiate on this. Fine. But we keep whatever is in the base.”

“The corpses, and any MELD or unidentifiable artifacts are ours,” the Commander amended. “But EXALT can keep the alloys and base itself. Is that sufficient.”

“It will have to be,” she muttered. “Shall we get to work?”

“Yes,” he said, motioning towards the entrance. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

***

_The Arctic, Fury Base_

To her credit, Zara actually seemed as straightforward as Patricia had sensed. There was a bluntness to her that seemed odd for a supposed head of a family. Not like the secretive EXALT figures she’d come to expect at all. It actually made her a better liar than someone who was a little mellower because she had a laser focus and conviction that was evident in every movement. Had she not been reading deeper, the true reason for why EXALT was here wouldn’t have surfaced.

“You were in Mexico, weren’t you?” Creed commented as they walked through the entrance, which was slanting down. Creed didn’t look at her when he said it, but she sensed his discomfort with the situation.

Zara glanced over to the SEAL who comically dwarfed her, but she clearly wasn’t intimidated in the least. Patricia did have to respect that. “Yes, I was. I assume you were one of the survivors?”

She could imagine Creed’s face as he answered, even from his tight tone. “One of them, yes. You caught us by surprise.”

Patricia heard Zara snort. “That was the plan. I hope you’re not expecting an apology. You killed many of my soldiers as well.”

“Not an apology,” Creed said neutrally, moving ahead. “Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Zara was thoroughly unimpressed, which anyone could have seen even if Patricia hadn’t been able to sense emotions. She shook her head, and returned to focusing forward, searching for more alien minds.

The architecture here was slightly different from the Sectoid Hive. Everything here was more angular, and slanted up by the roof. The supporting beams were all the same way, slanted, not straight up. The initial entrance was also pretty large, enough for the fifteen or so EXALT soldiers as well as everyone from XCOM.

There was pretty much no cover, but she knew she would sense problems well before they showed up. Unless they used cyberdisks or drones, but they would hear those coming, and there was enough firepower to take anything out that entered this room. Sanya led the group too, and would take the brunt of any surprises.

Patricia was somewhat amused by the EXALT soldiers glancing apprehensively at the mechanical giant, as well as her and the Commander. There was definitely concern, and a healthy amount of fear. Good. Fear was useful here and might prevent them from doing something stupid.

“Looks like its opening up ahead,” Sierra said, pointing forward. Patricia looked ahead and saw it. Definitely an open room, but she could see very little beyond it.

“Hold,” the Commander ordered, raising a fist. Even the EXALT soldiers came to a stop and she walked up to where the Commander and Zara were standing. He glanced at her. “Do you sense anything?”

She closed her eyes and focused exclusively on the area and front of her. “Nothing alive,” she answered, opening her eyes. “They might have drones or cyberdisks, though.”

“Good to know,” the Commander nodded, raising his rifle. “Advance, slowly. Sanya, take the lead. Be ready for an ambush.”

They moved forward cautiously, all weapons at the ready as they entered the room. Once inside, Patricia saw that she’d been correct, there wasn’t anything alive here. But there _was_ a lot of other interesting stuff.

One of the EXALT soldiers whistled. “Wow.”

A good a word as any. They were all standing in what appeared to be a mix between a barracks and armory. In the center were several metal benches in a square, with several articles of clothing, components and containers scattered around. The walls were all segmented, with several open and empty. From what she could see, they appeared to have held weapons and armor.

“Do you think there’s anything left?” Carmelita asked, walking up to an unopened container and reaching toward it.

“Stop!” Zara yelled and Carmelita instinctively froze and turned to the irate woman.

“Don’t do that again,” she growled. “I don’t answer to EXALT.”

“Use your brain,” Zara hissed back. “You ever think these could be trapped for guests? What if it explodes if the wrong person opens it?”

“She has a point,” the Commander agreed, looking towards a couple doors at the end. “Don’t touch anything until its confirmed safe.”

To her credit, Carmelita took it well, even if inside she was definitely embarrassed by the reprimand. “Which one do you want to take?” Patricia asked, walking up to the Commander and indicated one of the two doors on the far side of the wall, both evenly spaced apart.

“Don’t know yet,” he answered. “Both will have to be taken soon, but I’d rather take the one to the Command center. Do you have an idea?”

“Give me a-“

“Lights!” Seok shouted and four while lights from the corners of the room flashed on all focused at one spot directly in front of the Commander.

“Hold fire!” He yelled before any shots were fired at the sources. The light was definitely forming into something, and Patricia now suspected she knew what it was.

“What is that?” One of the EXALT soldiers asked.

But Patricia knew, and once more it seemed Nartha had been correct in his description. The Vitakarian before her stood at least as tall as the Commander, had an interestingly human face, in terms of simple shape. The dark gray skin seemed metallically smooth and shiny, even through the hologram. No hair covered his head, or any sign of facial hair or eyebrows from what she could see. But what attracted her immediate attention were the dark blue eyes, solid orbs with no pupils that almost seemed to be glowing, though that might have been because of the hologram.

He was wearing what she assumed as an officer’s uniform, with some kind of badge pinned to the gray armor. Only his chest and front of his legs had any sort of protection, while the rest of him was just protected by what looked like a light gray fabric. Gloves covered his hands and he wore some heavy boots with them. Said hand were clasped behind his back as he observed them neutrally.

 _“XCOM,”_ he greeted with a slight inclination of his head. His voice had a distinct _thrum_ to it, combined with a melodic accent. So this was what they sounded like normally. _“Welcome, I did not expect a retaliation so soon.”_

“A Vitakarian,” the Commander commented, lowering his weapon. “I see. Are you in charge of this base?”

The alien didn’t seem that surprised they knew what he was. _“I am. And I suspect I know why you’re here.”_

“And why is that?”

 _“Retaliation, to begin with,”_ he began neutrally, his eyes never leaving the Commander. _“Your profile highlights several traits. Sending a message, avenging the fallen, logistics, an extra base. The possibilities are many, but they do not matter. You are here for the psions, the ones these traitors call the Furies.”_

“Traitors, huh,” the Commander commented, glancing at Zara who was also glaring at the alien. “I’m not aware what exactly pushed them away, but you probably should have picked more reliable allies.”

 _“EXALT was always at risk,”_ the alien stated calmly. _“The setback will be dealt with later.”_

“I’d pick your words a little more carefully,” Zara suggested. “XCOM killed an Ethereal. Your Elders aren’t invincible.”

The alien’s lips twitched, which was all the surprise he betrayed. _“That doesn’t matter at the moment, Zara Venator._ ” He looked back to the Commander. _“I have an ultimatum for you, Commander. I know you have the cyborg and the psion Patricia Trask with you. My soldiers and I will fight to the death, but I know we will lose but before that, we will deny you your prize.”_ He paused. _“But this can be avoided, Commander. You want to save these psions? Then leave, or I will kill the Furies.”_

She could imagine the Commander raising an eyebrow. “You are not in a position to be making demands…” He paused. “What is your name?”

 _“Runi’baranth’yalsar of the Runianarch,”_ he answered without any pride. _“And no, I am not. But I can ensure more of your people die.”_

So he was part of the Vitakara military proper. An officer, apparently. Interesting, but this tactic was not going to work on the Commander. If there was one person who wouldn’t be affected by the possibility of a hostage situation, it was him. Sure enough, the Commander shook his head. “Good try, but we’re not going to leave. Besides, I don’t think you’ll risk killing some of your greatest assets.”

 _“Are you willing to take that chance?”_ The alien…Baranth, if he followed similar naming patterns to Nartha, said.

“I have a counter-offer,” the Commander stated. “Surrender now, and I will ensure you live and are kept in good condition. Otherwise your soldiers will die and you will be taken in for interrogation and experimentation.”

 _“No,”_ he responded flatly.

The Commander nodded. “Very well then,” he nodded towards the soldiers aiming at the lights. “Terminate.”

They fired and the cameras sparked and the alien vanished. The Commander immediately turned to her. “We have to assume that he was telling the truth and intends to kill the Furies. You need to locate them and prevent anyone else in the area from killing them. Can you do it?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I’ll need to concentrate fully. Creed…?”

“I’ll guide you,” he nodded, understanding immediately, walking behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder and hip while she closed her eyes and concentrated. The base must be made for suppressing psionics, since she seriously had to concentrate to get any indication of life within the base that wasn’t immediately beside her.

But three psions would stand out, even if they were likely in some kind of sleep or stasis. Just a little more….and there. Yes, they were sleeping at the moment, unconscious, unafraid, blissful. She mentally nodded, lost in the darkness around her. Brighter spots became more apparent and she expanded her senses around the Furies.

Now what would be the best way to neutralize them? Sleep? Could work, but making it last for any length of time would be draining, and it wouldn’t allow her to maintain a field of sleep around the area. What else? Ah…

The Hive Commander in the Sectoid Hive had been able to make several soldiers temporarily blind. At the time she’d not been sure how he’d done that, but now she knew that it was likely only a simple matter of just telling the brain that it was blind. Brains were funny that way, control that, and the person was controlled.

So that’s what she did.

_You are blind._

_You see nothing._

_There is only black._

She spread that out to all the nearby minds, forcing into their alien psyches, repeating the words over and over until it took root. And she soon got indication that she was achieving it. The tenseness and calm that the minds possessed first turned to confusion, then concern, and it would soon be driven to panic.

Panic. Yes, that would be a fine addition.

_You will die. Alone and afraid._

_No one is coming._

_You were left to die._

_You are worth nothing._

The repeating of the mantra over and over turned the black calmness around her into a purple maelstrom of rage, terror, helplessness and despair.

She smiled in her mind’s expanse. It was satisfying to exert such control, knowing that her physical body would always be protected.

She suspected the Commander was going to be pleased with what he saw.

***

The Commander couldn’t help but gain a little bit of satisfaction from how all of the EXALT soldiers were keeping a healthy distance from Patricia as she seemingly unconsciously led them through the base. There were doors to the side, but supported by Creed, she simply bypassed them all and kept striding forward. She must have been deep in her mind, since her entire figure was blurred, as if trapped within a purple-tinged heat wave.

Even Zara was keeping her distance, eyeing the psion with…not quite fear, but definitely concern and discomfort. Good. It would definitely prevent her from making any stupid mistakes. Though to be honest, he didn’t expect any, at least from her. She struck him as a very _direct_ person, not a backstabber.

Now they could hear sounds coming up, some frantic shouting in another language, some firearm discharges and screaming.

All very promising.

“Hold her,” he told Creed as his soldiers lined up before the closed door where presumably the Furies were in. He nodded and kept Patricia from proceeding further, while motioning some of the EXALT soldiers to stand in front of her, since it wasn’t going to be possible to get her into cover. Neither of them looked particularly happy, but they likely worried that refusal would result in some horrible death from her.

Whatever worked.

With all the soldiers in position, he nodded to Zara on the other side of the door, and pressed the switch which opened the door. The metal slid open soundlessly and they looked into a room of chaos.

Vitakara soldier, scientists and pretty much everyone was stumbling around, as if blind. The soldiers were staring sightlessly in all directions, their weapons raised in all directions, some even pointed at each other. The scientists were clawing around, stumbling into desks, pods and other equipment. Several had hurt themselves from various instruments around the room, and he took a second to get a look at it.

It was definitely a science room of some kind. The back wall had several elerium power stations, and the center was filled with various alien equipment, tables and within a small depression in the middle of the room, three transparent pods.

Within them were the Furies.

They appeared to be suspended in some kind of gel, naked and with dozens of wires running into their body and brain, seemingly via cybernetic implant. They appeared to be unconscious, though not in pain from what he could tell. Surrounding the pods was a very faint psionic field, though if that was from the Furies themselves or another source, he couldn’t tell.

Either way, the Vitakara here needed to be dealt with.

“I want one of each kind alive,” he ordered, holstering his rifle, thinking it was a good time to train his telekinetic abilities.

“And the rest?” Carmelita asked.

“Kill them.”

At that, all of the soldiers who had a shot fired and five fell to the ground, dead. Pandemonium broke out as the soldiers started firing, instantly killing some of their own. The Commander telekinetically picked up a cowering scientist, and brought him closer, while the rest of them moved in. The scientists started shouting in his language, though not directly _at_ him. It really did seem he was blind, though with a Vitakarian, he couldn’t really tell from the eyes.

He tossed him to several EXALT soldiers behind him. “Tie him up!” He ordered, and they complied immediately, clearly not wanting to argue with the telekinetic psion. One down. He had a live Vitakarian, now for one of the gunners…

He entered the lab and witnessed the carnage before him. It was a massacre and nowhere close to a fair fight. Whatever Patricia had done had debilitated the Vitakara completely, turning them from professional soldiers into shaken blind rookies. What Vitakara weren’t instantly killed were wrestled to the ground and then knocked out or executed. Even if he’d ordered the rest killed, several XCOM soldiers were taking the opportunity to capture as many as possible.

Good thinking ahead. If they wanted to capture more, he wouldn’t stop them.

Sanya had picked up one of the gunners, and was pinning it to the floor, restraining it as it thrashed and roared around. The air was permeated with fear and terror as the EXALT soldiers hunted down the cowering Vitakara and executed them without mercy and with a deadly efficiency. Zara definitely became more alive in the fight, gaining an enthusiasm he hadn’t sensed in her before now.

Carmelita and Seok ran over to help Sanya restrain the thrashing Vitakara gunner, while he moved to help Zara deal with the last one which was already wounded from friendly and hostile fire. The gunner was on its knees, yellow blood seeping from gaps in its armor. Zara walked up causally and blasted it in the face, throwing it back onto its back, and proceeded to fire several more times.

Job done, she turned sharply on her heel to him. “Good shot,” he said.

“This was pathetically easy,” she answered, walking past him down to where the Furies were contained. “Your other psion did her job a little too well. I don’t like shooting defenseless enemies, and these seemed to qualify.”

“Tough luck,” he commented, frowning as she seemed to be serious. “But I don’t take chances when I don’t have to.”

“Yeah, smart,” she said. “But it’s not nearly as invigorating this way.” She sighed and shook her head. “Anyway, let’s look at this.”

He stood in front of one of the tanks, contained within seemed to be an Arabic man, age unknown. The Commander looked down at the console in front of him. He waved his hand over it and an interface popped up, and to his relief, it was in the same language as the other alien tech they’d recovered.

Right, this shouldn’t take long.

“Ah,” Zara’s eyebrows furrowed. “I should have realized it would be in their language.”

“Not a problem,” he dismissed, already going through the available options. “I can read their language. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

That seemed to surprise her. “Really? How?”

“Long story,” he answered as he located the pod controls. “Let’s just say that the Ethereals like to make interesting decisions.”

She clearly wanted to ask about that, but refrained and moved to look at another pod. He continued and finally found several commands that should release the man inside. He executed them and watched as the fluid drained out. “The glass pod should open once the fluid is gone,” he told Sierra beside him. “Disconnect the sensors and get them immediate first aid.”

She nodded, and waved Carmelita and Shun over. “Got it.”

That out of the way, he went and repeated the same procedure with the other two pods. One of the EXALT soldiers had found some clothes, and were assisting the XCOM soldiers in getting the Furies in some kind of attire, even if they were still unconscious. He suspected that they would still be out for a while yet. Unfortunate he hadn’t known ahead of time, otherwise he’d have brought Blake along to ensure they were fine.

He sensed Patricia walking up, under her own power, but clearly drained. “Good job,” he told her. “Not completely sure what you did, but well…” he indicated the room with a nod. “It wasn’t a fair fight.”

“Blindness,” she answered exhaustedly. “Combined with a bit of fear. Not as difficult as I’d feared. Self-preservation is a cross-species phenomenon, apparently.”

“You can probably apply that to every species,” he muttered, looking down at the female Fury. “Do you sense any problems with them? How powerful are they?”

“I don’t _sense_ anything wrong,” she answered, looking down at the Fury. “But I might be wrong. That took…more out of my than I thought. But she is very powerful, all of them are. If they’re anything like Annette, I think they’ll be extremely valuable.”

“Do you think the Vitakarian tried to kill them?” He asked Patricia.

“Probably,” Patricia shrugged. “But it’s hard to follow orders when you’re blind and terrified.”

She had a point.

“We should leave some here to make sure there are no surprises,” Zara stated, walking up. “Then we deal with this alien permanently.”

The Commander fixed his gaze on her. “I want him alive. Do not kill him.”

“If you want,” she shrugged. “But only if he isn’t about to kill one of my soldiers.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But I doubt it will come to that.”

“Not if your psion pulls the same trick off,” she said, nodding to Patricia. “Nice job.”

“Thanks,” Patricia muttered, glancing at the EXALT warrior warily. “But don’t expect that again. I need to rest before trying something similar.”

“Fine,” Zara stated, moving on. “I’m sure we can deal with the rest of the aliens still alive.”

“I agree,” the Commander nodded. “I found schematics for the base. I know where the Commander center is, and that is where I assume our Vitakarian friend is.”

“Where did you get that name?” Zara asked, probably frowning if he could see her obscured mouth.

“From one of their species,” he answered wryly. “That one was a fount of interesting information.”

“What we should have been doing from the beginning,” Zara muttered, turning towards the exit. “It feels good to end that pointless charade.”

The Commander raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t approve of the alliance?”

“I had a bad feeling about it from the start,” Zara shrugged. “But I trusted the Director to know what she was doing. Besides, I’m biased. I’m a soldier and have little patience for schemes and diplomacy. Sometimes the best solutions are the simplest.”

He wondered if all the Venators were like her. To some extent they must, because she was apparently their leader. It really was interesting how EXALT could breed people with such personalities.

They would definitely be useful.

“Have some of your soldiers stay back,” he instructed Zara. “I’ll have Sierra and Shun stay back with them.”

“Will do,” she agreed with a nod, probably grinning as they prepared to move out. “Time to see if this alien has any more tricks for us.”   

***

Everything seemed a little fuzzier now that she was back in the real world. Likely due to her being physically exhausted. It was strange, her _body_ was telling her it needed a rest, but strangely enough, she didn’t actually feel tired or worn out. She wouldn’t be able to do that again…but she could still make enough of a difference in the coming fight.

The Commander took the lead as usual, with her and Zara by his sides, Sanya behind them followed by the remainder of the EXALT and XCOM soldiers. They were definitely going up now, slowly but surely. Patricia didn’t even know if they were underground or not anymore, such was how this place was constructed. The only thing she knew for sure was that it was smaller than the Sectoid Hive, and seemed to disrupt psionic sensing to a degree.

No, disrupt was the wrong word.

_Obscure._

That was better, since it hadn’t done anything to stop her from turning the Vitakara soldiers into sightless, terrified, aliens. She hadn’t been aware much of the fight, as it was easy to make sure her aura wasn’t affecting humans, but it had been interesting to witness the minds around her suddenly vanish, one by one as they were executed.

With the exception of a few, who she suspected the Commander was first going to interrogate, then give to Vahlen for test subjects. It was a shame Nartha was gone, since he would have been useful in this case. But they didn’t need him, not with her. If they tried to hide anything, she would be ready to extract whatever was in its mind.

At the Commander’s discretion, of course.

“They should have attacked by now,” Carmelita muttered as they approached a large metal door. “Do they have no one left?”

“Wait,” Patricia said, raising a hand as she finally sensed something new.

“Are there Vitakara in there?” Zara asked.

“Give me a moment,” she answered, closing her eyes and sensing forward into the room. Yes, there were definitely Vitakara in there, though no other alien species from what she could sense. “Twelve inside,” she continued dreamily. “All Vitakara, from what I can sense.”

“Only twelve?” Zara snorted. “Pathetic. This won’t take long.”

“Remember,” the Commander reminded her. “I want the leader alive.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Zara chided, raising her plasma rifle. “Believe me, I’m aware of the value of high-ranking enemy personnel.”

“I’m pretty sure they locked it,” Creed commented, looking at the door. “It’ll probably take some time to cut through.”

“We have time,” the Commander said, stepping forward, motioning Sanya to follow. “They do not.”

_“Wait.”_

A similar hologram to the first one materialized in front of the door, showing the same alien as before. The Runianarch Commander, who appeared a little more defeated than before. The Commander preemptively held up his hand to prevent any instinctual fire, though likely more for EXALT’s benefit than the XCOM soldiers.

“You’ve lost,” the Commander said, holstering his rifle and stepping forward. “The Furies are under our control and you’re trapped inside there.”

The alien’s lips hardened into a thin line. _“I know. Fighting you would achieve nothing except getting my remaining soldiers killed. I’m willing to negotiate a surrender.”_

Patricia blinked and exchanged a helmeted look with Creed. Everyone seemed to feel the same way.

_Surprised._

It occurred to her that the idea of the aliens surrendering had never really existed as a possibility in her mind. No others had done it before, instead fighting to the last, even if it was suicide. Perhaps it was because the Vitakara valued life a little more, and saw no point in wasting it. Nartha had said his species was less inclined to violence, and were supposedly rational. Following that….them surrendering then made perfect sense.

“You are not in any position to dictate terms,” Zara stated, also stepping forward. “The-“

“Quiet,” the Commander interrupted, cutting her off. “If they want to negotiate, we will do that.”

Zara was clearly ready to debate this, but she seemed to realize that she was also not exactly in a position to make demands. “Then do it,” she practically spat. “But they are owed nothing.”

“Duly noted,” the Commander said dryly. Looking back at the Vitakarian, he continued “In that case, what terms are fair to you?”

The Vitakarian nodded. _“Assurance that my soldiers will be treated well, in return for our unconditional surrender.”_

The Commander was silent.

Patricia knew why. While that might have been an easy thing to promise, she knew that the Commander wouldn’t make it. They didn’t have the luxury of holding prisoners of war; every alien in captivity was another resource they could use to combat the Ethereals. That involved experimentation, which most of the time was not defined as ‘treated well.’

But at the same time, she knew the Commander wouldn’t force a fight, nor would he lie. So what ultimately happened would likely come down to what the alien decided. “I can’t promise that,” the Commander finally said.

The Vitakarian didn’t seem surprised. _“May I ask why?”_

“Because we are at war,” he answered slowly, honestly. “We require every resource we can, and that includes doing tests no doubt similar to the ones that were being performed on the Furies. Your species is allied with the Ethereals, and by extension, are also at war with us.”

 _“I see,”_ he answered slowly. _“And what if we would prove more useful functional than as…test subjects?”_

“Then they would be used in that capacity,” the Commander answered slowly. “But that would be for us to decide. Not you.”

 _“So your counter-offer is simply unconditional surrender?”_ the alien stated neutrally.

“Essentially,” the Commander confirmed. “I would prefer not to fight, and can guarantee that fewer will die if you surrender. I can promise that if your people can prove themselves more valuable unaltered than as contributions to XCOM’s Research and Development, then that is where they will be used.”

_“And how do I know you’ll even follow through with that?”_

“You don’t,” the Commander admitted. “But at least now you know the possibilities. If I didn’t care about my word, I would have just lied to you when you first asked.”

 _“You have a point,”_ the Runianarch officer admitted, his eyes unblinking. _“Our choices essentially are die now, or potentially die later.”_

“Yes.”

 _“And if we accept, what else should we be aware of?”_ He continued.

“You will cooperate fully with us, and answer any questions we have,” the Commander stated, indicating Patricia. “Psion Trask will be ensuring you don’t lie about anything. Pass that and then we will move on to what to do with you and your soldiers personally.”

The Commander paused for a moment. “In more immediate actions, if you decide to surrender, you will come out, one at a time, hands raised and no weapons on your body. One bad move and you will be executed. Understand?”

 _“Completely,”_ he stated quietly. _“I need to confer with my subordinates.”_

The hologram blinked off.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Creed asked no one in particular.

“Likely,” Patricia answered, looking in the spot the hologram had been. “I don’t think he would have kept asking questions if surrender wasn’t an option anymore.”

“More to the point, do you _really_ think they’ll be useful without being test subjects?” Zara demanded. “What could they possibly provide?”

“This is not your affair,” the Commander stated coldly. “This is an XCOM matter, and to answer your question, what they could provide is exactly what I want to find out. If they fail to be adequate, then they will be utilized.”

“And please refrain from asking questions related to our operations,” Carmelita added, taking a step forward, making her warning clear.

“You do not order me around, soldier,” Zara shot back, unconcerned. “The Commander isn’t some inept puppy that actually needs your ridiculous attempts at intimidation.”

Carmelita straightened instantly and raised her weapon at the short woman who paid her no mind. Perhaps Patricia had been slightly wrong about her; the woman did have a subtler side to her, or at least could read people enough to bait others like Carmelita. “Lower your weapon,” the Commander ordered. “If Zara crosses a line, _I_ will deal with her, understood?”

Carmelita reluctantly lowered her weapon, embarrassment clear in her voice. “Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” the Commander looked to Zara. “Don’t provoke my soldiers unnecessarily.”

“She threatened me,” Zara defended calmly. “I don’t take threats to me lightly.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Patricia interrupted. “I think someone’s coming.”

The all raised their weapons at the door, all business once more. “Do not fire unless they try to attack,” the Commander ordered. “Carmelita, Meru, take each one into custody and bind them individually. Zara, have your soldiers take them down to the Fury lab. Creed, be sure to accompany them.”

“Yes, Commander,” they all answered.

The door slid open soundlessly and the apparently named Runi’baranth’yalsar walked out, hands raised, face seemingly unchanged. “We accept you conditions,” he said. “The rest will come out on your command. We are all unarmed.”

“Move forward,” the Commander ordered and he complied. Carmelita and Meru bound him and turned him over to Zara’s soldiers who took him down to the lab with Creed accompanying them.

“Next!” The Commander called, and another walked out. It appeared to be another Vitakarian, though this one seemed to be a female. The same procedure was repeated and she was taken down with the others.

“Next!” The Commander ordered again, and did so twelve more times until there were no new Vitakara coming out.

“That’s the last of them,” Patricia said, after quickly confirming that the room was empty.

“Let’s see if there’s anything inside,” the Commander said. “Secure the area!”

The remaining soldiers all entered the Commander room, and fanned out to look at all the alien computers and screens. The Commander walked up to a window that showed the outside, where the first fight had taken place, in fact. The snow was already beginning to cover up the corpses, and all the bloodstained snow was gone.

“And the base is ours,” Zara stated, satisfaction clear in her voice. “Not bad.”

“On that we agree,” Patricia nodded. “The Furies are recovered and we have nearly twenty prisoners.”

“EXALT did help,” the Commander added. “Something I wasn’t expecting, but you did assist us and I will recognize that.”

“And you’ll hold up your end,” Zara said, turning to him. “We keep the base, you get the aliens and Furies.”

“Of course I will,” the Commander confirmed. “You can have this, for what little good it’ll do you. Although I suspect the Director won’t be happy.”

Zara snorted. “Of course not. But she’ll at least agree that it’s better that the Furies are out of the aliens hands. But she’s not unreasonable, and will understand why I agreed to it.”

“Oddly reasonable of her,” Patricia commented.

“There is a reason she’s in charge,” Zara shrugged. “So what happens now? You gather your corpses and prisoners and leave?”

“Yes and no,” the Commander answered slowly, removing his helmet and turning his unshielded gaze to her. “EXALT is in this war now, and I need to know just how much. It’s time I met Director Vyandar in person, Lady Venator. When you return, tell her to expect a visit within a few days.”

“Then you know where we…” Zara trailed off. “Never mind. I’ll be sure to tell her. And should we expect an escort?”

“No,” the Commander answered. “I’ll be coming alone.”

“Understood,” Zara answered, giving a firm nod. “Your soldiers are well trained, it was an honor to fight beside them.” She extended a hand to the Commander, who took it a few seconds later, never breaking eye contact.

“Your soldiers were useful as well,” the Commander answered. “I hope EXALT will continue contributing to the fight.”

“We will,” Zara assured him. “You can be sure of that.” With that, she turned at walked away to speak with her own soldiers.  

“Unfortunately she’s with EXALT,” the Commander mused, looking at Patricia. “She would have made an excellent XCOM soldier.”

“Who knows?” Patricia shrugged. “If things go according to your plan, she might be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Reading my mind?”

“Deductive reasoning,” she answered. “Something I’ve had in the back of my mind ever since you agreed to a truce with EXALT. There are only several reasons I can think of, and with ADVENT and the Demeter Contingency on the horizon, I think I know what you intend to use them for.”

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. “And if your hypothesis is right?”

“Then I’m looking forward to the reaction of the rest when you tell them.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” he promised, looking out into the frozen wasteland. “It’s time everyone knew my true plans for EXALT.”

***

After-Action Report

Operation: Sounds and Furies

_Note: You and Bradford apparently shared the same type of wit – The Commander_

_Personnel:_

Timberwolf 1 ( _Squad Overseer)_ : The Commander

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 5

Timberwolf 2: Psion Patricia Trask

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Timberwolf 3: Specialist Carmelita Alba

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

Timberwolf 4: Specialist Anius Creed

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 6

Timberwolf 5: Specialist Shun Anwei

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Timberwolf 6: Specialist Sierra Morrow

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 3

Timberwolf 7: Specialist Seok Myeong

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 2

Timberwolf 8: Specialist Meru Paras

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 1

Timberwolf 9: MEC Soldier Sanya Olga

 **Status:** Active

 **Kills:** 8

 

_Artifacts Recovered_

-35 Vitakara Corpses (Moderate Damage)

-17x Vitakara Captives

-67x Weapon Fragments

-26x Assorted Alien Equipment

-6x MELD Canisters

-10x Vitakara Computers

_Personnel Recovered:_

-Matthew Hawkins – _Fury Designation: Alecto_

-Said Tariq – _Fury Designation: Megaera_                

-Fatima Tariq – _Fury Designation: Tisiphone_


	46. Kingmaker

 

_The Bastion, Control Center_

“We didn’t achieve our primary directive,” Zara said slowly, clearly not sure how Saudia would respond. “But given that XCOM was involved, and seeing what they could do, fighting them was probably not a good idea.”

Saudia looked down onto the holomap, trying to think of where to go from here. Zara seemed to have essentially wrapped up her report of the attack, which Saudia wasn’t sure if she could call a success or failure. XCOM showing up unannounced had understandably thrown a wrench into their plans, and Zara was right, especially given what she’d described.

If Zara had tried to take the Furies by force, they would have likely been killed.

No. They _would_ have been killed.

Zara didn’t exaggerate when it came to description. One psion had essentially neutralized an entire room of soldiers, the Commander was also a psion now, and they had confirmation of the massive robotic suit that was probably the most mobile and destructive piece of equipment she’d even heard described.

EXALT may have had the numbers advantage, but that really didn’t mean anything to XCOM. Only overwhelming numbers had a chance, and depending on how many aliens assaulted the Citadel, maybe not even then.

“No,” she finally answered, looking at Zara. “You did the right thing. Attacking XCOM is a bad idea for…multiple reasons.”

“Especially now that we have a truce with them,” Zara added, pursing her lips. “To his credit, the Commander definitely worked well with me and my soldiers. Though he did make it very clear who was in charge.”

“Unsurprising,” Saudia muttered. “The minute he saw you fighting, he knew he had another tool to wield against the aliens. That’s just how he thinks.”

“It wasn’t a total loss,” Zara noted. “We do have the Fury base, as well as the alloys within it.”

“While XCOM took everything else of value,” Saudia finished grimly. “We don’t need the alloys, we need the corpses, elerium and captives.”

“Which is exactly why the Commander took them,” Zara nodded. “He doesn’t trust us.”

“Not without reason, I suppose,” Saudia sighed. “This sets us back, now that the Furies are lost for good.”

“I also think that the Commander has plans of his own for us,” Zara added, crossing her arms. “He said he would be coming to speak to you within a few days.”

Saudia’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _Here?_ The Bastion?”

“He didn’t say the name,” Zara admitted. “But he wouldn’t have said it unless he was certain. And no, I don’t know how he could have possibly learned that.”

Saudia rubbed her forehead. Wonderful. That either indicated that XCOM had a much larger reach than even they expected, or there was a leak…wait, no. Saudia sighed. “I think I might have an idea, actually.”

“Please tell,” Zara said.

“Subject Four,” Saudia reminded her. “She knew we were in Antarctica, and now that they have the other Furies, it wouldn’t be a stretch to figure out where our base is. It’s not like we’re hidden here if they know where to look.”

Zara scowled. “Damn it.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Saudia said after a few seconds, turning to walk to a window looking out into the vast frozen wasteland. “The tensions between EXALT and XCOM should be resolved sooner than later. Will he be coming alone?”

“He said so,” Zara answered, walking up beside her. “But I think there’s a bigger problem here. The Commander is a psion, so he might be able to tell if you lie to him.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “I’ve thought about that. You said that it was his other psion that performed the more powerful feats. What did he do, exactly?”

“Telekinesis,” she answered. “But he implied that he would be able to tell if I was lying or not. I almost managed to hide the existence of the Furies until his other psion sensed something was off.”

“So he might not be as skilled in reading minds,” Saudia nodded. “But still being able to sense…emotions. I can work with that well enough, provided my theory is correct.”

“And how exactly will you do that?” Zara demanded. “If he learns we revealed their base, as well as starting these wars…”

“I know,” Saudia answered firmly. “Which means this will be handled _very_ delicately. I’ll have to be careful to tell the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth.”

“Do you really think that will work?” Zara asked, looking away from her.

“I don’t know,” Saudia admitted. “But we’ve got no other choice. The Commander may forgive certain things, but our work on _this_ scale…he will likely deem us to risky and move to remove us.”

“I doubt he would start a fight if he was alone,” Zara speculated. “But afterwards…”

“I’m more concerned what he wants from us,” Saudia interrupted, her lips forming a thin line. “He has plans. None of the possibilities are good for us.”

“Suspect anything in particular?”

“The most obvious is dissolution,” Saudia said. “I can see him wanting to rid us for good. Which will never happen, but it will disrupt us for decades.”

“But we will survive,” Zara assured her. “All things considered, it could be worse, even with the aliens. We can still do work against them.”

“That is probably the ideal request,” Saudia nodded. “I’m more concerned that he will keep EXALT intact, but instead appoint overseers to ensure we follow XCOM directives.”

“We do have contingencies in that event,” Zara reminded her. “Never used…but it’s not irreparable. _You_ are our Director, and that is something XCOM will never be able to change. EXALT has been lucky to avoid splinter groups, but I suppose even we couldn’t last forever.”

“Except we can’t afford to fight a civil war now,” Saudia muttered. “We already have the aliens to worry about, and adding XCOM isn’t a good idea. We have to prioritize, and in this case, I agree with the Commander. The aliens need to be dealt with, and when the war is over…we look to the future.”

“So cooperate now, save humanity, then move forward,” Zara nodded. “As much as I hate either situation, that is the most practical thing to do. Not really worth fighting if there’s no world to control afterward.”

Saudia turned around, and leaned against the window. “Practically, yes. But I will be remembered as the Director to lose to an outside power. Despite what you said, I don’t think I’ll retain much respect after the Commander makes his demands.”

Zara snorted. “See, here’s the thing. EXALT is not filled with easily swayed idiots who don’t see the big picture. We can critically think, that’s kind of a big part of our childhood. All for the mission and greater good. _That_ is what you’re doing. They will _know_ that between most of us being killed, or working with some XCOM oversight to fight the aliens…this is the best decisions in your situation. They won’t like it, none of us do, but they will understand.”

Saudia gave her a humorless smile. “Even if I don’t completely buy that…I appreciate it Zara, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zara dismissed with a wave of her hand. “You’ll always have my respect, even if we don’t agree. Whatever happens, you will always do what’s in the best interests of EXALT. You don’t have to worry about my family causing problems.”

Saudia sniffed. “Yes, because that was a _major_ concern for me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Zara chuckled, patting her on the back. “We can’t change what XCOM knows and what they’ll do, but let’s focus on what we _can_ do.”

“Good advice,” Saudia nodded, pushing herself off the wall. “In that case, I suppose we should prepare for the arrival of the Commander…and see how the state of the world is since our intervention.”

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

“That didn’t take long,” the Commander commented, a hand scratching his chin as he watched the screens display the latest breaking news in all caps.

UNITED NATIONS CONDEMNS ARAB STATE AGGRESSION AND ISRAELI RESPONSE; CALLS FOR PEACE

“It does say something that they have yet to address Brazil,” Jackson agreed, tapping on her tablet. “Speaking of which, the war around Brazil is in full swing. From the looks of it, it’s not going to take long.”

“Depending on how the other South American countries tolerate it,” the Commander muttered. “Encroaching on Argentina is pushing it awfully close, although I suspect they’ll be smart enough to avoid the countries allied with us.”

“Argentina _is_ a Council nation,” Jackson pointed out. “But I see your point. They aren’t as intrinsically bound to us like Columbia and Venezuela.”

“We need to make a statement to reassure them,” the Commander nodded. “The response for this was overkill, and I’m not convinced it wasn’t fabricated. But we need to work with it now.”

“I can write a draft of something,” Jackson promised, brushing her hair back. “I just need to know what our official stance is.”

“I will,” the Commander answered. “But I’d like to know your own thoughts, you know that area much better than me. I never really ran many operations in South America.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m worried this is going to get out of control really fast. The cartels are going to see the response and panic. And they have people _everywhere_ , in _every_ country. Brazil _is_ going to notice a mass exodus of suspected cartel members and…I’m not convinced they won’t use that as an excuse to continue pushing forward. And the more they push, the more countries like Argentina and Peru _will_ start pushing back….”

She trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know if Brazil wants to start a war with the entirety of South America, but unless they exercise some self-control, that is just what might happen. Since _restraint_ doesn’t appear to be in the vocabulary of Marshal Luana, unless we want that, we need to make it clear that further aggression will not be tolerated.”

The Commander agreed with that analysis. The Marshal was likely someone who would be useful in a military crisis, but she could be easily manipulated, which might become a problem when ADVENT was finally established. There were guidelines for ADVENT representatives and heads of state, and she was not doing well at the moment. But that might work to their advantage. “I agree,” he told her. “Which is why ADVENT needs to be established soon to officially bring Brazil under it. That is ideally the best way to bring her in line, since if she doesn’t abide by the guidelines, she will be removed from office.”

“And if that doesn’t convince her, losing the support of XCOM will,” Jackson finished. “So does that sound good? Any aggression outside of Bolivia and Paraguay will not be tolerated?”

“That’s the message we need to send,” the Commander confirmed. “Another press conference is probably in order. We can also address the Israeli conflict at the same time. Speaking of which…”

“Yeah,” she sighed wearily. “Several updates. As we expected, Nowinski has declared war after confirmation of a coordinated strike by Saudi Arabian, Iranian, Iraqi and Yemen operatives. All the countries insist their being set up, but this level of coordination is too high to be a coincidence, especially after the Mossad found documents detailing correspondences between those nations.”

The Commander also sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Idiots. None of the bodies were alien, so it actually does seem like they actually thought they could try this. I assume Israel has responded in a more concrete fashion?”

“Of course,” Jackson said dryly. “Jordan and Lebanon are under Israeli attack, and more reinforcements from America will be arriving within days. Afterwards all signs point to a full attack on Syria. Russia has also started deploying soldiers to take Iraq, and from the string of suspicious deaths of high-ranking military personnel in Saudia Arabia and Iran, it appears that the Mossad is hard at work weakening the opposition.”

“So our official stance will be that we’re staying out of it,” the Commander said. “This wasn’t exactly how I wanted the Middle East to be united, but Israel is probably the best to take it over. Emphasize that we won’t be taking part in either conflict.”

“Goes without saying,” Jackson muttered, making that note. “So who’s going to actually face the press?”

“I will,” the Commander answered, somewhat resigned. “It’s time the world sees the Commander of XCOM. No need to really hide anymore, it’s not like we’re a secret.”

“Good luck with that,” Jackson said, giving a mock salute. “We all respect your sacrifice.”

“Quiet,” he muttered. “It’s not _that_ bad. If I can handle the Council _and_ the Ethereals, I can certainly handle a few questions from journalists. They’re like politicians, except have a louder voice. Unfortunate that I don’t really care about their opinion.”

“Still though,” Jackson cautioned. “You should pick your words carefully.”

“Trust me, I will,” the Commander promised. “But I don’t think what I say will be what they want to hear.”

“I might tune in for that,” Jackson chuckled. “It’ll be interesting to watch.”

“Moving on from entertainment,” the Commander said, turning fully to her. “Are the Vitakara captives almost finished processing?”

“Almost,” Jackson said. “Before we begin interrogations, we’ve divided them into skill sets. The majority are scientists and analysts, which Vahlen, Zhang and myself will be able to use. Several others are soldiers, who also have experience with Vitakara and other alien weaponry. The final decision will be up to you, but I do think the majority will serve better alive than as test subjects.”

“This is where the Manchurian Program would be perfect,” the Commander mused. “We need to get that completed. There are too many usages for it at this stage, and we can’t hold them indefinitely.”

“The majority do seem to be non-combative,” Jackson noted. “I honestly don’t think we have to worry about an uprising, especially after they are analyzed by Patricia.”

“Patricia is going to be our best resource here,” the Commander agreed. “In the meantime, while they’re processing, I want to deal with EXALT once and for all.”

“The means you have yet to really share,” Jackson noted wryly. “Time to reveal your master plan?”

“Yes,” he stated, turning on his heel. “Call a meeting. This is something everyone needs to hear.”

***

_The Citadel, Office of the Commander_

“The skyranger is prepped and ready,” Jackson confirmed to the Commander as they gathered around his office, waiting for him to continue.

“The skyranger can work in temperatures like that, right?” Patricia asked, glancing to Shen.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It was designed to operate anywhere, though it will be a larger drain on power and fuel than normal to keep it hot.”

“Irrelevant,” the Commander dismissed. “I won’t be there long enough for that to be a concern.”

“So you should probably tell us what you’re hoping to accomplish,” Zhang stated, crossing his arms. They were all curious and ready for him to explain, though it was going to be…interesting to see what they had to say.

“Of course,” the Commander answered, inclining his head to him. “First and foremost, I plan to have EXALT transfer their personnel into ADVENT.”

Patricia and Zhang didn’t seem _entirely_ surprised, since that was a logical usage of the shadow organization. Everyone else on the other hand…”Commander…” Jackson asked hesitantly. “Are you…sure…that’s a good idea.”

“EXALT has managed to survive in secrecy for decades at the least,” the Commander explained. “Had they not decided to interfere so dramatically with us, I suspect we would have never known they existed. That kind of ability is what humanity and ADVENT need right now, and they need to be able to operate without looking over their shoulder.”

“Tactically, it makes sense,” Zhang agreed with a nod. “They have their own elite soldiers, intelligence network, scientists and engineers. They would fit well into the established branches for ADVENT and would jumpstart the organization by months.”

“And months are what we need,” Patricia said. “ADVENT needs to be established as soon as possible, and filling them with EXALT is probably the best idea.”

Vahlen crossed her arms. “Aside, of course, for the small fact that _we can’t trust them_.”

“The people we can unconditionally trust is very small,” the Commander pointed out. “EXALT wants control of the world, and for now, the aliens stand in their way, and that makes them a larger threat than us.”

“So basically you want to convert them to a time bomb instead of an inconsistent sniper,” Jackson muttered, using an odd analogy. “Fine, but _assuming_ we somehow win, or even just drive the Ethereals off Earth…do you really think that EXALT isn’t going to try and take control? Especially so close to a legitimate world government?”

“Not entirely,” the Commander answered with a smile, raising a finger. “I don’t want to just _use_ EXALT, I want to ensure it never appears again. The moment every EXALT person transfers to ADVENT, EXALT will cease to exist forever, never to rise again.”

Now all of them were skeptical, and this was where it was going to get tricky. “You’re going to have to explain that,” Shen said slowly, eyeing him skeptically. “If history has…allegedly…proven one thing, it’s that EXALT can never be completely destroyed. It will go into hiding or just exist under a different name.”

“Oh, it will exist under a different name,” the Commander said. “ADVENT. And unlike the previous times, it will be an organization in the spotlight. They will not be able to operate in complete secrecy anymore.”

“Officially, perhaps,” Shen insisted. “But-“

“Oh.” Patricia suddenly said, her eyes widening as she looked at the Commander, seemingly becoming paler as she seemed to get what he was implying.

The Commander’s lips curled up. “I think you have the right idea, Patricia. EXALT will only go into hiding if it feels that they are threatened or have not achieved their goal. Remove that…and they won’t have any reason to go against us.”

Zhang decided to get to the heart of the matter. “What exactly are you going to tell Director Vyandar to convince her to not only dissolve EXALT, but also prevent her from setting things in place for their return? She strikes me as the woman who will bide her time until the time is right to strike.”

So he told them.

Shock shot through them like lightning bolts. Even Zhang’s eyes widened as he explained what he planned to use to convince Saudia to follow his plan. Jackson, Shen and even Vahlen were looking at him in disbelief, while Patricia was still processing it since she had guessed before. Vahlen seemed more surprised that he had even considered it, rather than the idea itself.

Jackson seemed to speak for them. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No.”

“Still…” Jackson leaned against the wall heavily. “After everything…you’re really going to do it?”

The Commander sighed. “Unless you can provide a better solution, this is the best way to use EXALT, as well as ADVENT. The alternative is a long, drawn out shadow war that neither of us has time to deal with. Since we don’t have the luxury of stamping out shadow organizations, we might as well use them.”

“But to this extent?” Shen demanded. “You’re-“

“I know,” he insisted, scowling. “Believe me, I do. If things were different, this wouldn’t even be a consideration. But we need to be practical here and look at the bigger picture. Executing everyone in EXALT is not in the best interests of either XCOM or humanity.”

“And what if they were behind leaking our location to the aliens?” Jackson demanded. “Are you just going to ignore that?”

“No,” the Commander promised. “But it won’t change anything in the short term. The only difference is that after the war is over and EXALT is fully exposed, the leadership will face justice for treason. But until then…we need to use them.”

“What about the countries in ADVENT?” Patricia asked. “Nowinski, Savvin, Treduant…what exactly are you going to tell them? They are going to have questions, not to mention everyone else when ADVENT is officially established.”

“I will tell some of them,” the Commander said. “It will be necessary so she doesn’t get _too_ comfortable, but the rest…telling them would serve no purpose other than to divide ADVENT, and division is the last thing we need.”

He paused for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m well aware of what I’m doing. But remember that we have one thing they don’t; _Psions._ If they have any traitorous intentions…then we will take appropriate action, even if it’s at the highest levels. But this is the only way we can eliminate EXALT from the world forever.”

They were all silent, even Vahlen.

“Objections?” He asked, looking around.

No one said anything. None of them were _thrilled_ with the idea, but like him, they realized that out of all the options…it was unfortunately the best one they had. It was an extreme risk, but times like these called for such risks, and he was confident that they could be mitigated enough to not pose and issue.

And if they did…then there was always Plan B.

“Then wish me luck,” he said, moving to change into his armor. “Let’s hope that EXALT reacts the way we want them to.”

“With what you’re offering…” Jackson shook her head. “They’d be idiots to refuse.”

“They did ally with the aliens at one point,” Patricia reminded them, and that bit of humor seemed to lift their spirits a bit as he prepared to meet Director Saudia Vyandar.

***

_The Bastion, Control Center_

“Estimated time of arrival?” Saudia asked one of the people monitoring the Antarctic skies.

“Thanks to the schematics Elizabeth’s source provided, I would assume no longer than a half-hour,” he answered, pointing at one of the screens which made little sense to her. “Provided of course, that the skyranger is adapted for the cold. It is apparently workable in all weather conditions, but Antarctic cold is something a little harsher.”

“I doubt they would come if the skyranger couldn’t handle the weather,” Saudia muttered. “Keep watching and let me know when it lands.”

“Yes, Director.”

She turned away and walked towards Ethan reading his tablet on the other side of the room, talking to one of Zara’s soldiers. Catching her gaze, he muttered something to the soldier who then walked away quickly. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“It’s a skyranger,” Saudia answered. “So yes, he’s on his way.”

Ethan pursed his lips, setting his tablet down as he looked up at her. “Showtime. I wondered how long it would take him to pay us a visit.”

“Are you ready?” She asked. “Handling it alright?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, giving a small smile. “It’s going to be…different, seeing him in person again, but compared to some other things I’ve seen, this isn’t hard.”

“Good,” Saudia said. “Because if this doesn’t go well…”

“We’ll take care of him,” Ethan promised, a shadow falling over his face. “I told you, our loyalty is with EXALT and you.”

“It’s a worst-case scenario,” Saudia reminded him as she turned and walked out the door, Ethan close beside her. “If the Commander really is coming alone, not even he would start a fight here.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Ethan agreed grimly. “But knowing him, that is a contingency he’s well aware of and will have a plan for. I assume his plan in that case is that if he figures this isn’t going to work, he’ll send a signal back to the Citadel and they’ll send several skyrangers worth of XCOM soldiers here.”

“But if that happens, we’ll be able to monitor that,” Saudia noted.

“Maybe,” Ethan grunted. “We’re able to intercept human tech. XCOM primarily uses alien now. But I do agree. The Commander won’t do anything unless he believes it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I’ll do my part to make sure it goes well,” Saudia promised. “Do you think he’ll be happy to see you?”

“The Commander?” Ethan smirked. “Not right now. You’re his priority and until EXALT is…figured out for him…he won’t focus on me. The mission comes first.”

“Good to know,” Saudia nodded. “Any final words of wisdom that might help?”

“We went over this,” Ethan chided lightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were nervous.”

“The future of EXALT will be decided by the end of the day,” Saudia said wearily, the weight of that knowledge coming to the forefront of her mind again. “So yes…I’m… _concerned_.”

“The Commander is not complicated,” Ethan reassured her. “Intelligent, but not complicated. Be as direct as possible, and if you disagree…hold to that. He’ll respect you more. But never lie or try to trick him. Tell a version of the truth to get around his apparent psionic ability to tell the truth.”

“Which makes him very complicated,” Saudia muttered as they stepped into the elevator which took them to the Hangar. “Military types are notoriously difficult to deal with, and intelligent ones even more so. They unfortunately aren’t usually fooled by speeches and flattery.”

“I can attest to that,” Ethan confirmed humorously. “Although the Commander will appreciate a good speech.”

Saudia stared at the steel doors as the elevator came to a stop. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stepped out and began walking towards the hangar while they waited for the Commander to arrive. Several of Ethan and Zara’s soldiers were ready and armed, in preparation for his arrival. Zara herself was armored up as well, her plasma rifle in hand was she waited.

“How soon?” She demanded, walking up to them.

“A few minutes, probably,” Saudia answered, eyeing the soldiers Ethan was going to check on. “I assume you’re ready.”

“Ready to make an impression,” Zara shrugged. “The Commander won’t be intimidated, but it’ll be enough to let him know we’re watching him.” Her eyes scanned Saudia. “You really should have worn some armor, not your dress uniform.”

“Maybe,” Saudia answered, as they walked toward the entrance to the hangar. “But this is a meeting, not a battle. The Commander will respect a professional approach, even if it isn’t the safest. Besides, wearing armor might give him the implication that we’re expecting a fight.”

“Suit yourself,” Zara said. “Playing mind games isn’t my specialty.”

_“Director, the skyranger is on approach within two minutes. Stand by for hangar opening.”_

“Acknowledged,” she answered. “Thank you,” she turned to Zara. “He’s arriving, get your people into position.”

“Understood,” Zara confirmed, turning around and shouting orders as they walked to the middle of the hangar. The massive door opened and a snow-battered skyranger drove through, then turned around presumably to allow the Commander to disembark.

Ethan stood at her right, Zara on the opposite side and the soldiers spread out and facing the skyranger ramp, they waited for it to open. A few seconds later the ramp opened with a hiss and lowered to the ground with a loud clang.

The EXALT soldiers didn’t raise their weapons, but they were definitely tense as the Commander slowly strode down the ramp, also without a weapon in his hand. But as opposed to her, the Commander had come prepared for the worst. Clad in the silver armor Zara described, minus the helmet, he also had a kind of sniper rifle and laser weapon also attached to his back. He was definitely one who commanded attention, as his eyes bored into hers as he approached.

Ignoring the soldiers, he instead walked straight up to her. “Director Vyandar, good to final meet you in person.” He glanced beside her and nodded toward them. “Ethan, Zara, same to you.” A nod from each of them was their only acknowledgement before he returned his attention back to her.

“You as well, Commander,” she finally answered. “I didn’t expect you to be prepared for a fight.”

The Commander’s lips curled into a humorless smile as he glanced at the soldiers. “Not that long ago, your soldiers would have shot me on sight. Considering that you also feel the need to show off your own soldiers, I think preparing isn’t a bad idea. This is not neutral territory, Director, and I don’t take unnecessary risks.”

She smiled. “Duly noted, Commander. But I don’t have intentions of starting a fight today. We have bigger issues to discuss.”

“That we do,” he agreed, looking at Ethan and Zara. “Alone.”

Saudia nodded toward Ethan and without a word, he and Zara backed off a good distance away. “You have a unique base of operations,” the Commander commented, stepping by her side as they began walking away. “I’m impressed.”

“This is the main hub of EXALT operations,” Saudia said. “We need the best possible.”

“I’d imagine so,” the Commander agreed. “And if the descriptions I’ve heard were correct, it is rather ornate.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “And just where did you hear that?”

“Annette Durand,” he answered neutrally, as they stepped into a hallway. “She was a major reason we were able to identify your base in the first place.”

As they’d suspected. “But I assume you’d rather see for yourself,” she said knowingly. “You’re curious.”

“And I think you want to show off your base,” he responded evenly. “But you’re also correct. Give me the tour.”

***

_The Bastion_

The Commander didn’t seem overly impressed with the ornate architecture around him, but Saudia hadn’t really expected him to in the first place. His practicality likely extended to design, and in that instance she believed they were similar. Still, she could at least appreciate it even if she didn’t think it was necessary.

“How long has this been here?” He asked as they stepped into another hallway. “Construction in conditions like this couldn’t have been easy.”

“Initial construction began in the late fifties,” Saudia answered. “Because you’re right. We didn’t have the necessary equipment to construct in these conditions before that. But from there it was a simple matter of continuously modernizing it.”

“It was a smart position,” the Commander nodded. “No one would think to look out here, although it makes it rather…conspicuous for anyone stumbling on it accidentally.”

Saudia gave him a humorless smile. “People don’t _stumble_ into Antarctica, Commander. Trust me, the few research stations here are heavily monitored.”

“I’d imagine so,” he said neutrally. “EXALT does have a tendency to keep tabs on everything.”

Saudia took the jab in stride, mostly because it was true. “For what we do, that is a necessity.”

“What you do…” he repeated slowly. “So tell me director, what exactly _is_ the purpose of EXALT?”

“To eventually unite the world under one united government, prioritizing the advancement and protection of humanity, without the constraints of current administrations or the downsides. This will be accomplished using whatever we deem is necessary.” Saudia explained.

“Interesting,” the Commander mused, stopping and turning to look at one of the paintings on the wall. Ah, they were in this hallway, where portraits of events in EXALT history were preserved. “It lines up with what I’ve seen. You have people infiltrate various agencies, and slowly introduce more measures to bring the world closer.”

“Essentially, yes,” Saudia nodded. “The truth is that the majority of humanity is unable to make rational, informed decisions. Too many people are unreliable, yet smart and are able to manipulate the general populace to use for their own ends. That system has never worked out before, and it never will. Democracy failed in the past, and it will fail again because people are just not smart enough.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t entirely disagree with that,” the Commander admitted. “But there is a fine line to walk. So under this hypothetical EXALT-controlled government, the people wouldn’t have a choice?”

“Unlikely for any position of importance,” Saudia confirmed. “Positions of leadership would be chosen by qualified individuals, not whoever had the most money or who was more charismatic.”

The Commander looked away from the painting directly to her. “That is a solution, yes. But that is unnecessarily risky and also ignores history.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “You should clarify that.”

“Civilians need to feel they have some kind of impact,” the Commander explained, continuing to walk forward. “They need the illusion of freedom, but it needs to be restrained, _controlled_. If you simply remove them from the process completely, they will resent that, and it will open the door for others to take advantage and mobilize them into an angry mob. People will always focus on the negative more than the positive, so no matter how great your utopia is, there will always be problems.”

His tone turned thoughtful. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. The best way to placate the public isn’t to take their options away, but control which options they can choose from. So no matter who ‘wins’ it will be someone who you are comfortable with.”

He did have a point, but she wasn’t entirely sure that was the right answer. Still, it showed a surprising amount of knowledge about the subject and human psychology. “I see you’ve thought about this.”

“Quite a bit, actually,” he answered, stopping in front of another painting. “It’s become something of a necessity.”

Hmm. She wondered why that was. He pointed at the picture. “These are important moments from your history, I presume?”

She walked up beside him and looked upon the painting herself. “Yes, in particular that one was done during World War II.”

That seemed to interest him, even though his reaction was just a raised eyebrow. “So what moment was this, then? I assume this was when EXALT decided to intervene?”

The picture simply depicted the heads of the families around a table, one member pointing at a map showing Allied and Axis territory. “When EXALT decided to ensure that the Allies won the war.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “So every major event in history is only because of your intervention?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “At least in part.”

“From the other paintings, it seems like EXALT isn’t the original name of this organization,” the Commander noted, as they continued forward. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Saudia answered. “The name is only a variable that will be changed when the time is right. EXALT is the latest incarnation, and when we see it’s unusable, we will simply change it to something else. The Illuminati, Free Masons, Templars, all were aliases at one point or another for us. When people began making too many connections, we simply discredited the names and moved on, while building up the legends you hear today.”

“Although I assume first you attempt to discredit those digging into you first,” the Commander presumed. “At the beginning, it was interesting following the trail of EXALT. You managed to successfully turn it into an urban legend, something that had been discredited again and again. It was impressive to follow, especially reading how accurate some of the descriptions were.”

“Anonymity is our strength,” Saudia shrugged. “We do whatever it takes to protect it. A known conspiracy is a useless one.”

“Anonymity is useful,” the Commander agreed as they exited that hall and stepped into an elevator. “But it’s also your only defense and greatest weakness. As you’ve figured out, the more you are exposed, the weaker you become.”

Saudia deliberately kept her face neutral. “Just because you claim we’re EXALT does not make us the actual conspiracy to the public. It can be spun to work for us, despite how much of a setback it is.”

“You’re not an idiot, Director,” the Commander snorted. “The only reason that the governments are not hunting you down is because there are much bigger things to worry about. EXALT is exposed, maybe not to the public, but definitely to the people who matter. EXALT will die, Director, it’s only a matter of time now.”

“Unlikely,” Saudia stated flatly. “It will be difficult, but you simply can’t wipe us out like a hostile army. That’s not how we work, and we still have influence where it matters.”

“I’m well aware of that,” the Commander smiled. “You can’t be completely killed. But you can be set back decades, if not more. Besides, you lack influence in one major organization.”

“XCOM.”

“XCOM,” he nodded. “And at this point, that is all that matters. We know you exist, and we’re not going away.”

Saudia just stared him directly into his yellow-rimmed eyes. “Should I consider that a threat?”

“A warning,” he answered simply. “Despite what contingencies you have, you’ll never be able to fade into the obscurity you had before the aliens.”

The elevator door slid open and he followed her until they arrived at her office. She held a hand before it, indicating he could enter. “After you, Commander.”

“Of course,” he walked inside and she followed, though not before turning and locking the door.

“Let’s get to what you wanted to talk to me about,” Saudia stated. “You wouldn’t come here to make insinuations or ask about our history.”

“Correct,” he confirmed, turning to face her. “Despite our truce at the moment, both of us know it’s temporary. Instead of both of us keeping tabs on each other, waiting to see who backstabs first, I’d rather solve this issue now before the invasion happens.”

“And are you certain an invasion _is_ coming?” She asked, even though hearing it mostly confirmed their own speculations.

“Certain,” the Commander confirmed. “The death of the Ethereal that attacked us warrants nothing less. From what we’ve learned, these incursions have been nothing more than tests, which we have clearly passed. For what, we’re not completely sure, but the Ethereals have already invested too much not to come and collect now.”

  “I agree,” Saudia nodded. “Now that we’ve betrayed them, it’s probably only a matter of time before they retaliate against us.”

“And you will lose,” the Commander stated firmly. “Here, at least. But I assume you know that.”

“There are plans.”

“Returning to the point,” the Commander continued. “I think we’re both in agreement that a continued war between us is pointless.”

“Yes.”

“But in the event that we win against the aliens, the question will be what happens next,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I will not allow the world to be controlled by a shadow government, and as such will do everything in my power to remove organizations like yours from the world. That is an outcome I doubt you want.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “And doing that will ensure that the world devolves into chaos. That is an outcome I doubt _you_ want.”

He gave a lopsided smirk. “Clever. And no, I don’t. Humanity is going to be weakened after the war, and needs a strong and firm leadership. More war will not help that, though the outcome would certainly be worse for EXALT than XCOM.”

“So what alternative do you propose, exactly?” She demanded.

“A simple one,” he answered, raising a finger. “But before that, I want to return to your goal. To put it bluntly, what you hope to achieve is impossible with the methods you use.”

“Not impossible,” she clarified. “But difficult, yes. It will take-“

“No. Impossible,” he repeated flatly. “You will never be able to control the world by manipulation alone. Tell me if my understanding is wrong: EXALT doesn’t act directly, but through proxies and plants for the people in charge. You don’t technically _control_ anything, to preserve your anonymity and deniability.”

“Correct,” Saudia nodded. “People in direct positions of power are too closely scrutinized to be useful. It’s a subtle art in positions not entirely at the top. Congressmen, intelligence analysts, people in positions to make an impact, but always place the blame on someone else if it goes bad. We’ve never had a direct agent in a leadership position and never will.”

“And that is why you’ll fail,” the Commander concluded. “You can’t hide in the shadows forever. Not if you _actually_ want to make a difference. You can’t maintain anonymity _and_ control the world. Too much influence and manipulation and you get people’s attention, too little and any progress you make is limited at best, or subject to failure.”

“I’m thoroughly impressed with your knowledge of our success or lack thereof,” Saudia bit out. “I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but a goal this scale takes _time_ and _patience_. It’s not something that be done in a few years.”

“The most complex plans are more likely to fail,” the Commander continued, not fazed by what she’d said. “You are always at risk of failing to successfully convince your proxy, or one bad election to see all your progress in a country gone. And that’s just democratic nations. Your methods would be useless in a place like North Korea or Israel.”

Saudia sighed. “Do you really think setbacks don’t happen? They do, but we _expect_ them. Our objective is _not_ impossible to accomplish.”

“Let’s move to your best case,” the Commander said. “You somehow win and establish your government via proxies. The truth is that it won’t last. Eventually someone is going to discover you, and as it is now, once your anonymity is gone, you won’t be able to hide again.”

“Then I’m curious,” Saudia said coldly. “What exactly do you propose to do? Control it directly?”

“Exactly,” the Commander nodded. “Otherwise you’ve put your plan in jeopardy for unnecessary anonymity. A world you control by manipulation isn’t one that will last, but one directly controlled has a much better chance of survival.”

“That may be what _you_ do,” Saudia said. “But there are just as many risks in what you propose.”

“There always will be,” the Commander acknowledged, beginning to pace. “But there is a point to this. But first I need to know some things, and I would suggest you be honest.”

“And if you don’t like the answer?”

“We’ll see,” he answered, face expressionless. “You have people within the Council correct?”

There wasn’t a point lying about that. “Of course we do, as well as the United Nations itself.”

“A good start,” he nodded. “Were you aware of the location of our base?”

She saw where this was going, and had fortunately prepared her answers ahead of time. “We were, and before you ask, yes we were the ones to give it to the aliens.”

The Commander’s only reaction was his facial features hardening. “Why?”

“Because we were allied with them,” Saudia answered firmly. “As you supply your own allies with alien tech, we supplied ours with information. Remember that we were technically your enemy.”

The Commander was silent for a few moments, as he appraised her unflinchingly. “I see. And questionable as the entire alliance in the first place was, there was reason for your decision and had no reason to withhold it. That being said…” he pulled out his pistol and held it loosely by his side. “Understand, Director, that if the circumstance were different that I would execute you and everyone in your organization for treason.”

She wasn’t intimidated now. She’d passed a test with him and he was only doing this to make a point. “But you’re not.”

“No,” he answered, relaxing and holstering the pistol. “I’m not. This time, at least. The only reason for that is that the aliens are a bigger problem, and I cannot afford to lose resources that can help us win. In this case, that is EXALT.”

“Then perhaps you should get to the point,” Saudia said. “What do you want?”

He reached behind him and pulled out a stack of papers…no, a document of some kind. She couldn’t read the title, but _now_ she was extremely curious as to what it was. “Have you ever heard of ADVENT?” The Commander asked.

“Only that XCOM is connected to it,” Saudia answered. “No details, unfortunately. Other than that it seems to involve quite a few major world leaders.”

“Wonder no longer,” the Commander said, handing her the document. “This is the Advent Directive. I think you’ll find it interesting.” She grasped it, raising an eyebrow at the multiple official seals attached to the cover page. America, Russia, Israel, Brazil…this was much bigger than she’d even thought.

Taking the document, she went over to her chair, sat down, and began reading.

The document was actually shorter than she expected for something this grand in scope.

She’d underestimated the Commander. This document would change the world, and did it in his image. Everything she could think of was being covered, government, judicial, economic, regulations, military. The Commander had designed his ideal government, and had somehow convinced others that it was the correct path.

It was…incredible to read. Even if EXALT hadn’t been in charge of writing it…there were so many things that she agreed with. When it came down to it, the Commander really wasn’t that different from EXALT is his beliefs, but the difference was that he’d accomplished what they’d dreamed of in just a little over a year. It wouldn’t cover the entire world, of course, not at first. But considering that it was the Commander who was putting this together, she had no doubt that it soon would.

This was definitely not something she’d have expected from an American.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she set the document gently on the table. “How did you convince so many to…join you? The _United States? North Korea?”_

“People are a lot more cooperative when the future of our species is at stake,” the Commander said, clearly amused. “I knew that the only way to survive would be to unite, and unification cannot just be alliances between countries. The world needs a true United Nations. One with actual power and authority. We need to stop thinking of ourselves in terms of country, and instead as a species. All human.”

He nodded towards the document. “And since a new governmental authority was needed, I took the opportunity to improve it.”

“Significantly,” Saudia added. “I’m impressed. It seems we may be more alike than you think.”

“With the difference being that I do what’s best for humanity,” the Commander amended. “You do what’s best for EXALT.”

“EXALT’s mission is the ultimate betterment of humanity,” Saudia corrected. “So yes, I do. When EXALT benefits, the world will as well.”

“Highly debatable,” the Commander said dryly. “But that isn’t what’s important right now. But I take it you approve of the structure?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Saudia admitted. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded. “When ADVENT is official established, it will need people. EXALT is comprised of soldiers, analysts and intelligence agents. I want them working in ADVENT.”

This changed everything. Even if the Commander wanted EXALT disbanded, putting her people into the new United Nations was essentially giving them more influence than ever before. Maybe because he felt he had no choice, but EXALT was not gone yet. Even if they had to work within the system with oversight, it was far better than what she’d anticipated.

“You do understand what you’re doing, yes?” Saudia asked, just to be sure. “This seems…odd.”

_“Practical,”_ the Commander supplied. “And there is only one requirement your people must adhere to. EXALT must die. It will never be reborn again. Not under that name, not under any other. I will have records of your personnel, and my psions will ensure their loyalty is not to an obscure shadow government, but to ADVENT and humanity.”

Alright, so he was definitely being careful about this, and smart as well. Still, she was confident she could think of something. No matter where she ended up, there was still plenty of options. “Not all of my people may agree.”

“I think they will, actually,” the Commander said, with a knowing smile.

“There’s only one thing that isn’t clear,” Saudia said. “The leader. The Chancellor. I assume you’ve decided on someone?”

“I have,” the Commander confirmed.

“You?”

He snorted. “No. I have no desire to run the world. My place is as the Commander of XCOM, and holding higher positions would be…problematic…on a number of levels. Besides, I am not the right person for the job. Organizations that large aren’t my specialty.”

“Then who?” Saudia asked. “Although before you answer that, I assume you have a position for me? Or am I too much of a risk?”

The Commander chucked. “You are a risk, but I need someone with your experience. You managed to keep an organization of thousands of people hidden for years, as well as manipulated countless world events. You even managed to fight us successfully for a time, and had you not allied with the aliens, I suspect I never would have learned of you. More importantly, I believe that you want to improve humanity, even if our methods differ. But like it or not, I need someone like that. I may not like you, but I can respect and work with you, despite what you’ve done.”

“And what does this translate to?” Saudia asked. “An advisor in ADVENT?”

It would be a demotion, but at least she’d have some form of influence that she could grow.

“Incorrect,” the Commander said, raising a hand. “I don’t want you to _work_ with ADVENT.”

Oh. She frowned, trying to figure what he was doing. If that was the case, then what the-

The Commander finished. “I want you to _lead_ it.”

Saudia blinked, not sure if she’d heard correctly. She paused for a few seconds, shock and surprise coursing through her in equal measure. She _had_ to have misheard. “Did you just-“

“Yes, Director, I did,” the Commander repeated just as calmly. “Saudia Vyandar, I want you to be Chancellor of ADVENT.”


	47. Long Live the Queen

 

_The Bastion, Overlook of the Wasteland_

All the heads of the families now looked and felt similar to her when the Commander had first told her what he wanted. Shocked, disbelief, uncertainty, wondering what the catch could possibly be. She’d known he never did anything without reason, but his explanation for it was shockingly simple: He believed she would be the most useful. At this point she was even unsure that there was a subtler motive beyond necessity.

But still…

Putting the leader of a group that had once fought against him was…surprising. She would have never suspected that his pragmatism would work in their favor.

But here they were, seated around the familiar wooden table with a white document sitting in the middle. Their future, and, as things looked now, what would be the last meeting of EXALT.

Matthew spoke first. “Well then.”

“Of all the things I expected…” Elizabeth said absentmindedly. “This wasn’t it…why would he…”

“He needs us,” Zara stated flatly. “Think about who we’re dealing with. There isn’t some deeper motive here, nor do I think it’s a trap. The fact is that EXALT is more useful in positions of power than simple disbandment.”

“The Commander is not you, Zara,” Hasina interrupted. “He was subtle enough to construct the new United Nations without us knowing, and is no doubt hiding it from the Council.”

“Regardless of the reasoning,” Darian said slowly. “No matter what point of view you look from, he is taking a massive risk. And I can’t see him taking it unless he had guarantees that we’d do exactly what he expected.”

“He doesn’t need a guarantee,” Saudia said slowly. “This is our entire purpose. The reason EXALT was conceived in the first place. To lead humanity.”

“And the purpose of ADVENT is to do exactly that,” Matthew finished quietly. “Albeit with some restrictions. I’ve overlooked the document. You will not have complete control, Director-“

“But enough,” Saudia finished. “And with each of you and your families embedded in the organization, we can ensure that retain enough influence.”

“The thing is that we don’t _need_ to hide anymore,” Zara said, sounding more excited than any of them. “Exclusive control was ideal, but this is the next best thing. I’ve read the Directive as well, Matthew, and I’m confident that whoever we end up working with, they’ll at least be competent.”

“I agree,” Hasina nodded. “The Commander was smart enough not to turn the power completely to the public. There are checks and balances everywhere, all built around competency, efficiency and professionalism.”

“It sounds too good to be true,” Elizabeth muttered, shaking her head. She picked up the document. “On paper…this looks good. Exceptional, even. But in practice…I don’t know how well it will work. Making humans work together will be difficult, Saudia, and ADVENT may not materialize into the world power the Commander believes it will.”

“I can guarantee that China will not join anything organized by the Commander,” Yakov added. “I’m also not convinced that most of Europe, much less the United States will accept a sovereign world power. Americans in particular are notoriously independent.”

“The President herself supports this,” Elizabeth pointed out. “And the aliens might scare the European nations into joining, if only for protection.”

“The President is not sovereign,” Matthew stated flatly. “Ignoring her approval ratings, something on this scale would be impossible without Congress. Can you imagine how the Republicans will react to her essentially declaring the Constitution null and void? Submitting to an international power? The Democrats will also push back too, probably for similar reasons. They may approve of some of ADVENT’s positions, but the majority _will_ view it as authoritarian.”

“Because it _is_ authoritarian,” Hasina said, lacing her fingers together. “When the state police force has nearly as much authority as the military, people are not going to like that. Throw in the government controlling or heavily regulating every aspect of traditionally private sector jobs, and you have socialism with a bit of communism thrown in for good measure.”

“Hey, ultimately, the rules for independent businesses seem reasonable,” Matthew shrugged. “While quite a few people will throw a fit, it is ultimately one of the better parts of ADVENT. But Yakov has a point. Even if we approve of this…what’s in this is enough to have people taking to the streets. You want a civil war? This is how one starts.”

“And I’d tend to agree, were this not involving aliens,” Saudia nodded. “People are getting scared. They _are_ scared. If there is any time to unite the world…this is it. Besides…I think I know how President Treduant will be joining ADVENT. Elizabeth, remember that bill?”

“I certainly do,” she smiled as she also picked up on what Saudia had determined. “And the good president is very clever, provided everything goes to her plan.”

“I understand your point,” Saudia said, looking at Yakov. “But the Commander has assured me that ADVENT is not, nor designed to be just a ‘United Nations.’ It’s not simply a political body, it is a military one. And above all else, that goal is to protect and advance humanity. If other nations throw that into question…there are means to deal with them. Legally, of course.”

Yakov whistled. “He is bold. I did not expect him to be this ruthless, even knowing his nature.”

“He has only set the framework in place,” Saudia corrected, the corners of her lips curling up. “What actually is executed is up to me. And if I must annex a country to protect more, I will do it, and it will be _legal_.”

“We know what your position will be,” Hasina said, changing the subject. “But what of the rest of us? Or has the Commander not decided, or relegated that to you?”

“As ADVENT will be under my leadership, as EXALT is now, he felt it would be better for me to decide where each of you will serve best,” Saudia answered. “So that will be decided now.”

“I think our place is clear,” Darian said. “We head ADVENT’s research and development branches.”

“And we head ADVENT Engineering,” Yakov agreed. “With our respective non-engineering agents reporting to their respective divisions.”

“I don’t think this is going to be quite as easy as you think,” Hasina warned bluntly, frowing at both eager men. “I’m certain that ADVENT already has an established R&D branch and engineering. _With_ people leading them. They aren’t just going to let you take over.”

“We can deal with that issue if it comes up,” Darian answered smoothly. “ADVENT is in the beginning stages. Nothing is concrete. Worst case, we ensure our people are high-ranking that won’t be an issue.”

“Unless you want to make my life difficult, you won’t see this as a pure power grab,” Saudia warned icily towards Darian. “We’re going to have to work with people outside of EXALT, and we will have to get used to not everything being under our direct control. I will _try_ to ensure your places are secured, but there are no guarantees here. Now,” she turned the wider table. “Elizabeth, as ADVENT does not have an established intelligence branch, I want you to establish one.”

Elizabeth smiled, relaxing the overall mood. “Will do, Director. It’ll be a change, but one I’m looking forward to.”

“I would be best for helping establish our infrastructure and economics,” Hasina added. “The world economy is going to be shattered when ADVENT is established.”

“And I think that Solaris Industries would be an excellent state-sponsored weapons manufacturer,” Matthew finished. “ADVENT is going to need the best weapons possible, which I will aim to provide.”

“Excellent,” Saudia looked to an uncharacteristically silent Zara. “And you?”

“Undecided,” she stated flatly. “My soldiers will obviously become part of the ADVENT army, but as for myself…I’m not sure that’s where I belong. There are better people to lead an entire military, and my strength is on the battlefield, not in a secured room.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t see you being a regular soldier. The only place-ah.” She trailed off as she got Zara’s implication.

Interesting. It appeared Zara had been more impressed with XCOM than she’d let on. “I’ll see what I can do,” Saudia said.

Zara shook her head. “No, I’ll do it myself.”

“Very well,” Saudia said, turning her attention to the rest of them. “I think it’s clear that our purpose has been fulfilled. When ADVENT is established, our goal will be complete. This was admittedly not the way any of us thought it would happen…but it did.”

She paused. “Whatever the reasoning, the Commander has given us the world to shape into what we need. Success or failure will not only decide our lives, but the entire future of humanity. Our concern is not just for us now, but the whole world. We must transition as such. As of the establishing of ADVENT, EXALT will be forever disbanded.”

“And so it will be,” Zara said quietly. 

All of them were quiet at that pronouncement. The culmination of centuries of work, accomplished in the unlikeliest of ways. But it had happened. They had done it.

The world was theirs, and now they needed to protect it.

***

_The Praesidium, Alien Containment Cell 1_

The transition was coming along very well. As of now the Citadel had been evacuated by all essential staff and all important personnel and components were at the newly christened Praesidium. The new base of XCOM operations, hidden from the world.

He’d considered transferring the name _Citadel_ here, as was tradition for him, but the circumstances were slightly different, as the original base was still going to be used frequently. It would just make things confusing, and he felt it was time to switch things up some. Besides, this gave him the excuse to come up with some other names.

It seemed that when XCOM had originally been conceptualized, there had been some fascination with Latin phrases and words, as _Vigilo Confido_ showed. While he never had much of an interest in the dead language, it did have some excellent words, of which _Praesidium_ was one of.

 _Defense_. That was what the translation said. Fitting, as names went, and it did mark something of a new chapter for XCOM; a new phase in a war that would happen soon. Protection and defense from alien invaders, that was what XCOM had been conceived for. But the priorities were going to shift to _defense_ for the onslaught that was coming.

Naming aside, the former Sectoid base was already prepared for everything he wanted. It was very ironic that the experimentation labs that had held humans were now going to be used on the aliens themselves. Some reconstruction had been necessary, but the original architecture had been kept very much intact.

One of the experimentation rooms had been converted into alien holding cells, a room divided into blocks with each cell controlling temperature, oxygen and constant patient monitoring. All psionic displays converted to be accessible by non-psions. Most of the doors had also been reconfigured similar to the Citadel, automatic sensing without the need for psionic access.

Most, but not all. There were some areas that could only be accessed by certain people.

The door to the holding cells slid open, and the Commander walked through and directly to the first cell on his right. Patricia was already waiting for him, looking through the one-way glass in on their captive, the _Runi’baranth’yalsar_ as he called himself. Patricia was definitely focused on him, although the Commander didn’t sense anything from the alien but calm.

“Anything new?” He asked as she turned to face him.

“No, but he is waiting,” she answered, shaking her head. “He’ll want to know what we did to the others.”

“Which you’ve finished,” he said.

She handed him a tablet. “I divided the captives into reliable and unreliable. Despite what he said, not all of them are… _cooperative_. Some actual believe they could use the opportunity to sabotage us, and others simply despise us.” Her lips curled up in amusement at that.

“How many?” He asked, looking over the tablet.

“Seven were designated as such,” Patricia answered. “The reliable ones I divided up into sections. Analysis, research, engineering, military.”

“And what are your recommendations?” He asked, looking up at her.

She pursed her lips. “I’m wary of utilizing any of them unless we have a way to ensure their loyalty. When I say _reliable_ , I mean they will cooperate for their survival. Not that they won’t turn later. I would personally recommend that we utilize them as repositories of information for now, and only allow them to participate in XCOM when Vahlen completes the Manchurian Project.”

The Commander nodded, that was more or less what he’d been thinking of. “I agree, although I think allowing one or two might be useful to see how they integrate with the staff. Vahlen would also be heavily monitoring them, and it would be a good test to see just how willing they are.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow, curiosity spiking through her. “You want one to work with Vahlen on testing the Manchurian Project with Vitakara?”

“They know their own species best,” the Commander said with a smile. “I imagine they won’t want to cause unnecessary complications, and may be the motivation they need to give their full cooperation. If they refuse…” he shrugged. “They will be unreliable.”

“Fair enough,” Patricia nodded. “We might have an issue with the soldiers though. Even the reliable ones won’t have much use to use. Instead they will take up unnecessary space.”

The Commander nodded as he looked into the cell. “I know. But I think they can be useful for another idea I have.”

“Which is?”

“A psionic experiment,” the Commander explained. “I want to know just how extensive psionic abilities can change a person-or alien, as the case is here. The Manchurian Program serves a purpose, but it will not change a personality. It is simply a safeguard and insurance policy.” He turned to Patricia. “I want the Psionics Division to work on changing the personalities of the soldiers. Make them sympathetic to us, or just modify them enough for a proof of concept. I want to know what it possible before deciding how much to devote to this. Can you do it?”

“I’ll get started on some experiments,” she answered instantly. “I’ll coordinate with Vahlen on this as well. The Fury Fatima we rescued also shows high telepathic ability. I’ll be involving her as well.”

“And how are the Furies integrating?” The Commander asked. “Are they mostly recovered?”

“Recovered and ready for payback,” Patricia said with some amusement. “Whatever the aliens did made whatever happened with EXALT pale in comparison.”

“And do you have candidates for new psions?”

“Several,” Patricia answered, walking over to slide a finger on his tablet, switching to a new screen. “I’ll be approaching them for testing soon.”

“Excellent.” The Commander lowered the tablet and turned toward the cell. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

The doors to the alien captives were one such instance of keeping the psionic locks in place. The Commander raised a hand over the console, and put some psionic energy into it, and a few seconds later it slid open soundlessly. The security was still somewhat weak to him, since any psion could walk up and open it, but Shen was taking a look at how to add additional measures. But for now, it was sufficient, as there were no rogue psions he had to worry about.

The Vitakarian looked up as he approached, hands resting on the table, fingers laced together. Five of them, he noted. Interesting how similar in build they were to humans. Although it was entirely possible that had been a genetic modification that hadn’t been in the original species. Given the Ethereals interest in genetic modification, as well as the Vitakara, he wouldn’t have been surprised if this was one modification they’d created and approved of.

“Hello again, Commander,” he said neutrally as the Commander took a seat opposite him while Patricia stood in the back left corner. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Not forgotten, but things have been…busy, to say the least.”

The alien didn’t blink his glowing blue eyes as he stared directly at the Commander. “I’d imagine so. If you don’t mind, I want to know what you’ve decided to do with my people.”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. “Although before we continue, what would you prefer to be addressed as? Your full name is…long.”

“Compared to yours,” he muttered. “Although you seem to have some familiarity with our naming convention. But if you want to use titles, my position was Overseer.”

Good enough. “Alright, Overseer. We have finished examining your people. Psion Trask,” he motioned behind to her. “Determined which of your people were reliable and which were not. Seven were found unreliable and we will be utilizing them. The rest will not be harmed and will eventually be integrated into XCOM with proper means of ensuring loyalty.”

The alien betrayed no outward emotion, but he was definitely…resigned. “I see,” he said, just as neutrally. “You kept your word, which I can respect. But now…what do you expect from me?”

“Answers to a few questions,” the Commander said, resting his hands on the table. “The base you oversaw…what was it for?”

“It was originally designed to be a multipurpose base,” he answered. “A backup. It was constructed the same time as the base we are in now. The Sectoids never utilized it much, believing it was unnecessary. However, some time ago we received orders to move here and begin experimentation into the research and development of human psions.”

“Why is that necessary?” Patricia interjected. “Determining psionic potential isn’t hard. I only was awakened by interacting with an alien console.”

“Awakening isn’t good enough,” the alien answered, shaking his head. “The experiments were to determine _how_ psionics is handled by humans. What part holds it. If that could be isolated, it can be improved or implanted in others. The Furies were…are…the only psions not awakened by traditional methods. EXALT managed to do it, and we wanted to find out how.”

The Commander leaned forward. “And did you?”

The Overseer scowled. “Unfortunately, no. We had the information EXALT used to create their drug. But the more we researched it, the more convinced we became that EXALT didn’t find a solid way to awaken or create psionics in humans, but that the Furies were only an accidental side effect. A freak response to a drug created by people who had no idea what they were doing.”

“You said _create_ ,” Patricia noted. “You mean that the Furies might not have originally been sensitive?”

“ _Possibly_ ,” the alien stressed. “That’s just it. We _didn’t know_. And that was what the experiments with the Furies turned into. If they were even sensitive to begin with. Unfortunately we weren’t able to replicate the procedure EXALT used perfectly. All our subjects died. Knowing what EXALT did, I now wonder if they even gave us the right formula to begin with. It would explain a lot.”

The Commander was silent for a few moments. “In the event that the Furies _weren’t_ originally psionic…what are the implications?”

“Aside from the ability to create an unlimited number of psions?” He asked, almost sarcastically. “It means that psionics _isn’t_ genetic. It _isn’t_ a gift that only a few can wield. It means that the potential for other species to utilize psionics is possible…”

“Like the Vitakara,” the Commander finished slowly. “Tell me, did you report to an Ethereal?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Just to my superiors in the Runianarch. But I know that all information is relayed to at least one Ethereal. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why I had as much staff as I did. After I raised the theory in my report, I suddenly got a lot more resources to work with.”

“Question,” Patricia said. “If it is determined that psionics can be awakened in _anyone_ , do you really think the Ethereals would allow Vitakara to participate.”

“Of course they will,” he answered with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“I agree,” the Commander said. “But they will control who would receive it or not. Which means they don’t have to worry about potential rogue psions.”

“Again, I’m not convinced that this is a cross-species possibility,” the Overseer clarified. “It may be a human phenomenon. But it needed further study and research. But I see that you grasp the implications. If that could be determined one way or another…it might change everything.”

“That it would,” the Commander muttered. One way or another, it warranted some kind of research. Creating an unlimited number of psions would instantly swing the war in favor of one side or another. But it all depended on who discovered it first, provided it was _actually_ possible in the first place.

Which he wasn’t convinced of. If psionics could be instilled in any species, he would have thought that the Ethereals would have discovered it by now…unless of course they had never considered the possibility? Or maybe it was a human phenomenon, as the Overseer suggested. Regardless, he was seeing a possible use for this Overseer. Vahlen would like a chat with him.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the Commander said, standing up. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“So what will you do with me?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. “Keep me here? Execute me?”

“Neither,” the Commander said, shaking his head. “Keeping you here would be a waste, as would execution. You’ve cooperated and earned something more suited to your talents. My Head Researcher will be coming to speak with you soon.”

The alien’s lips twitched. “I see. Then I will be sure to expect her.”

“Don’t lie to her either,” the Commander warned as he exited the room. “She’s psionic as well.”

“Noted, Commander,” he said dryly. “Until next time.”

***

_United Nations Headquarters, New York_

Abby was actually glad her position here was more…familiar than the last one. Many of the UN officers and security personnel had died in the New York attack. Which was good for her because it opened up a _lot_ of positions.

For instance, it wasn’t that difficult for Margaret Bailey, decorated Marine veteran to get an officer position at the UN headquarters. They needed people, and she’d passed the interview and background check with no effort at all. Of course, with Zhang and XCOM Intelligence behind her, that had never been a concern.

Not to mention that they’d been extremely happy to have someone of her experience on the guard. That hadn’t even been a lie, she _definitely_ had plenty of experience, just not with fighting humans. But now she had authority over some other guards, as well as officer access which was what she was going to need when the Demeter Contingency was activated.

Abby wasn’t exactly clear on what Zhang was planning for the rest of the major UN buildings. He might ignore the one in Kenya, but the ones in Geneva and Vienna would almost certainly be dealt a similar blow. But the most important was the UN headquarters itself. With the world leadership dead, the UN would quickly fall apart and allow room for ADVENT to be quickly established.

Privately, she was worried that people would make the connections quickly and begin asking questions about the timing. Pinning one attack on the aliens was easy, two reasonable. Three might be pushing it a bit too far. Zhang probably realized that as well, which was why she believed that he’d employ a less public option like assassination. Something to place the blame on Zararch agents.

Or maybe he didn’t care how it looked. Once ADVENT was established, what people thought didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, or risk being labeled a traitor or alien sympathizer.

And the world had no tolerance for alien sympathizers.

As for the Council… well, from what Zhang had insinuated, it seemed like the Commander was going to handle that personally.

Considering what she was going to be doing, it was pretty clear what was going to go down. The people here didn’t deserve what was coming.

But it was deemed necessary, and she followed her orders. It was what Ruth would have done.

Times like these she wondered if she should feel so normal about it. She was interacting with people multiple times a day that were going to die, some of them by her hand. And yet she’d accepted it. Kept her distance, but not so much they became suspicious. It was the oddest feeling, surrounded by dead men and women walking her. Alive, but with expiration dates.

Provided everything went according to plan, at least. Even she didn’t know the full plan here, but she did know her part and who would be working with her.

“So when do you think it will be going down?”

The man she was working with casually leaned against the wall by her. Ciro Hector, someone she suspected was from Mexico, judging by his Hispanic features, dark skin and accent. He reminded her of Kalonymous in terms of personality. A friendly guy who would kill you without hesitation if ordered. Unlike her, he frequently interacted with the people around him, his reasoning being that it gave him more accurate information on how to kill them.

Cold, but practical.

One reason she was being very careful with what she said to him. His methods were unnecessary convoluted as well. There were better ways to carry out mass execution.

“Soon,” She answered simply.

He snorted. “Sometimes I wish Zhang would be a little clearer on our timetables. Variables here always keep changing.”

“Then don’t rely on variables,” she said. “Sometimes the best plans are the simplest.”

“You have no imagination,” he chided. “Being so serious all the time isn’t good for your health.”

She slowly turned to glare at him. “I’m a surgeon, Ciro. I think I know more about health than you. In fact, I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough. Tell me I’m being too serious when your whole team is killed, yeah?”

That shut him up. He at least looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Sorry.”

“There’s a reason Zhang put me over you,” she continued. “Come up with all the unnecessary plans you want, but we’re doing this my way. Got it?”

It wasn’t a question. He nodded. “I do.”

“My shift is now,” she said, pushing herself off the wall. “Go mingle, or whatever you do. But remember what our mission is…and what happens if we fail.”

He swallowed. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Good,” she said as she walked away. “That shouldn’t have to be necessary.”

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

“This feels weird,” Creed commented as they sat together on the couch, pressed against each other. “Nice place, but really alien.”

“It was built by the Sectoids,” Patricia said, her eyes closed as she rested her head against his shoulders. “I think it’s interesting.”

“Well, yeah,” he conceded. “But still weird.”

He did have a point, in a way. It was definitely _different_ to walk down the corridors so clearly designed by aliens, but encounter humans and XCOM tech in every room entered. The Barracks themselves were probably the most _normal_ , being that since the Sectoids didn’t really have ‘beds’ XCOM had installed them instead, as well as other traditional human furniture like couches, and accessories like televisions. It did bring a sense of normalcy, but only if you ignored everything else.

But overall, none of the soldiers around her felt _uneasy_. Maybe a bit uncertain, like Creed, but optimistic. Content. Some of them had fought to take this very base. Some had lost friends. Terrible things had happened here, things of evil. But in all honesty, going off pure history, the Citadel was just as tainted.

The leaders of XCOM were no paragons of truth, justice or liberty. Maybe that had been the intention, having the men and women of XCOM be heroes to the rest of humanity. A beacon of hope to the disillusioned human forces. And in a way, that had been accomplished. But XCOM had become much more than just a beacon of hope.

It was a power now. An organization that altered the world how it wished. An organization that did whatever it took to achieve victory, no matter the cost. Hundreds of innocent people had died in the fight against the Ethereals, and hundreds more would follow. It was the grim reality that she had accepted ever since accepting the Commander’s offer to be a part of his Internal Council.

And there was nothing wrong with that.

It was simply war.

Maybe that was the wrong outlook, but after seeing how much it took to just _survive_ an Ethereal, she didn’t see another way this war could be fought. The Commander may have been a war criminal, but in all honesty, all of them were. They were complicit whenever they signed off on XCOM’s many illegal and unethical experiments, interrogations or operations.

But they had been necessary. Shen, Van Doorn, Bradford and even Jackson, they might not have liked it, but deep down, she suspected the reason they’d never put up a public fight was because ultimately, there was no objectively better choice.

And it was going to get worse before it got better. The Demeter Contingency would be the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end.

She sighed against Creed. And the man with her had no idea what was coming. The invasion, sure, but not the reformation of the world as he knew it. She did wonder how he’d take everything. ADVENT. EXALT being dissolved. The United Nations being destroyed.

Would he even suspect that she knew about any of this? And if he did… what would he think?

Not that she would ever read his mind without permission, but she would definitely be able to tell what he thought of her. He couldn’t exactly lie or play it off. Fortunately, he knew better. But she still wondered.

ADVENT was the dark foil to the United States the more she thought about it. The result if America had taken a more authoritarian turn, only applied to the scale of the world. As of now she didn’t exactly regard that as a bad thing, but Creed…it would be different. He was a proud American, whereas she didn’t really have strong ties to England.

It was somewhat funny, looking back on that. She hadn’t joined out of patriotism or anything like that. But because she wanted to _do_ something. Make a small difference in the world.

And now she was one of the architects of its reshaping. She would determine the future of psionics in the world, provided they ended up winning, and likely well before that. That amount of responsibly oddly enough didn’t deter her at all. She was surrounded by people she trusted with her life. No matter what happened, the people of XCOM would always support each other.

That was only one part of what made them a force to be reckoned with, against aliens or not.

“You’re quiet,” Creed murmured. “Thoughts?”

“Just reminiscing,” Patricia said quietly. “And thinking of the future?”

“And what do you think’s in store?”

“Change, war, hope,” she answered. “And an alien invasion somewhere in there.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” he said. “But I have a good feeling. We weren’t supposed to get this far. But we have, thanks to you and the Commander.”

“Hey,” she chided. “You’ve definitely helped.”

He chuckled. “I won’t dispute that.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Patricia just listening to his heartbeat. “Whatever happens,” Creed said. “I’m glad to fight beside you against it.”

Patricia snorted. “You’re overly sweet sometimes,” she leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek while smiling. “But I’ll let it slide because I feel the same way.”

***

_Russia, Undisclosed Location_

“This will be the temporary headquarters until we officially establish ADVENT,” the Commander told her as they entered what essentially amounted to a bunker. “But it’s functional and you should be able to do whatever you need.”

Saudia nodded. “And knowing you, I assume there is a location in mind for when ADVENT is established?”

“I have some ideas,” the Commander admitted with a smile. “But I am not Chancellor. XCOM will definitely have a place here, but you will be making the final decisions.”

Ah yes. The reality was settling around her. This was real and she would be leading the world going forward. She’d never really thought this day would come. It was surreal, and yet it didn’t quite feel different from directing EXALT. It was only that the organization she was to lead was larger and more… _diverse_.

She would be dealing with conflicting ideologies here, different people with different beliefs, motivations and more. EXALT had had some internal disputes, but the overall mission and commitment to it had never been in question.

Something she suspected wouldn’t be the same here.

But she was prepared for that.

The integration was proceeding…adequately. It was almost too slow by her standards, as well as the Commander’s, but it took time to effectively integrate thousands of people without raising too much suspicion. It was going to take some time, and was still ongoing, even if she was getting ready to start making decisions for the organization as a whole.

“How many representatives are here?” She asked, looking around the corridor, wondering who was staying in the bare rooms.

“Several,” the Commander answered. “The first assembly will be called, but I felt it best not to be official until it was established. Although if you feel differently…”

“No,” Saudia interrupted, shaking a hand. “Perception will be important. The first assembly should be done publically, at least as publically as can be allowed. But I will need to meet with the leaders of the nations.” She glanced down at the Commander. “I’m curious. What has been the general reaction to your…announcement?”

“Confusion, mostly,” he answered with a smile. “They have no idea who you are. Most, anyways. Several are aware, but they will keep to themselves.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow as they turned a corner. “And who are they?”

“That is for them to share,” the Commander said, his smile turning cold. “And it isn’t important. Lead them well and they won’t care who or where you came from. All they know is that you’re experienced, competent and neutral. The right person for the job.”

Saudia decided to simply accept that and move on. She doubted anyone would oppose the Commander’s appointment, especially since this was his idea. But it did mean that she was likely going to have to earn respect here. A challenge she was, oddly enough, looking forward to. It was as much to prove to herself as them that she could do this. The goal of EXALT was to control the world, now she actually had to follow through.

And she did _not_ intend to fail.

Two soldiers walked past, wearing some very familiar armor. Modified from what she’d seen, but it was distinctive. The black armor and helmets of North Koreans. She turned to look at the Commander. “North Korea is supplying our soldiers?”

“Every member nation is,” he clarified. “But since North Korean armor is among the more advanced, that is the standard for ADVENT soldiers. They are also continuing to incorporate Russian and Israeli tech into more specialized armor suits.”

“Good to know,” Saudia nodded. “And any other developments I should be aware of?”

“Your command center will hold that information,” the Commander said. “But in terms of bigger military projects, the United States is working on a military robotic prototype, inspired by our own MECs.”

She was definitely going to have some catching up to do. But with this much information at her disposal…she was excited. For the first time in a long time, she was genuinely excited for the future. The closest she had come was cautiously optimistic, but nothing beyond that.

A man stood near the end of the corridor, talking with several ADVENT officers. At least she assumed they were officers by their red armor and elaborate helmets. Her lips twitched at that. The helmets were unnecessarily ornate. A redesign would be in order, otherwise it was a waste of resources and they needed every alloy they could to supply an entire army.

The man speaking was clearly someone of importance, and as she got closer, she realized who it was. He noticed her, said something to the soldiers, who formed their right hands into fists and placed them over their chests. “I see they’ve adopted your salute,” she noted quietly. “Interesting.”

He snorted. “I suppose. It wasn’t my idea, though I approve.”

“Greetings,” the man said, turning to them. “I presume you are Chancellor Vyandar?”

“Correct,” she said, extending a hand to him. “A pleasure to meet you, Supreme Leader.”

Iseul Gwan gave a small smile. “Not many would share that opinion, but I appreciate it.”

“You’re nation is reclusive, and I find that interesting,” Saudia said. “Aside from that, I don’t have enough information one way or another to judge. I prefer not to rely on propaganda.”

“A wise approach,” he conceded. “And I hold the same opinion towards you. The Commander clearly believes you will do the job well, so until you show otherwise, I will work with you to combat the alien threat and build our world into the bastion that is required.”

Well, the Supreme Leader really _did_ seem as practical as she’d heard. Not what she’d expected, but provided he was being genuine, she could see him being a useful asset. Or a problem, depending on how much he knew. Even from her limited knowledge, she knew he was similar to the Commander in terms of intelligence and danger, and his friendliness definitely made it seem like he had ulterior motives.

If there was one person who the Commander had probably told about her identity, it was probably him, because he would be smart enough to actually do something with it.

It would be interesting to see how well they worked together. “I’m glad you agree,” she finally said, inclining her head. “The world needs to be united as one now more than ever.”

“I believe it will be,” he said. “How that happens though…well, that has yet to be determined.” He smiled. “I look forward to working with you, Chancellor.”

He didn’t salute, but did incline his head before walking off. Saudia stared off after him, analyzing him as he left. “Iseul is blunt, but he probably takes the aliens as seriously as us,” the Commander said. “But I suspect you know to be careful with him. He knows how to use people and is very good at getting his way.”

“And I thought you were friends,” she commented as they kept walking. “He seems to be the type that would get along with you.”

“I suppose we are, in a way,” the Commander admitted. “And we do share similar opinions on a range of topics. Which is precisely the reason I’m wary of him. He’s an excellent leader, but one you don’t want as an enemy.”

So it seemed the Commander didn’t entirely trust him either. Although as she thought about it, that didn’t mean much. She was under no illusions that he trusted her, but was still willing to put her in charge of ADVENT. He definitely viewed people in terms of usability and reliability, rather than simply trust, and the amount of people he _did_ trust was likely very small.

“Are there any more reports of alien activity?” She asked after a few seconds as they walked. “Any planned retaliation moves?”

“No,” the Commander pursed his lips. “Even if we did deal a blow, the lack of response is concerning. Which unfortunately indicates that they’re planning for a major attack. Possibly the invasion itself.”

“We’re not ready,” she stated flatly.

“No,” he agreed. “We’re not. But we may not be getting a choice here.”

On that happy note she saw the next major player of ADVENT, and wasn’t at all surprised to see him, considering this was his nation. “President Savvin,” she greeted. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The older man turned and appraised her far more critically than Iseul. “Chancellor. I hope that you perform as well as the Commander said. It’s one thing to have a leader I don’t agree with, and another thing to have one I know nothing about.”

Well, she could take several approaches with that statement. Fortunately she was definitely more familiar with the good president than with Iseul. She could handle him. She met his stare. “I have experience with the aliens and how to combat them, Mr. President,” she answered calmly. “I am not a rookie, and have handled more complex operations than this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “More complicated than running the world?”

“Running the world is a matter of efficiency and resource management,” she responded. “It is complex as we make it. Governing a population is not as complicated as you seem to believe, and ADVENT will serve to protect and defend humanity, of which I am fully capable of doing.”

He seemed to be wavering a bit, but still wasn’t convinced. “I govern a nation, Chancellor, and that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know anything about you. No official records of any kind.”

She fixed him with a piercing stare, which had more effect since she was taller than him. “Mr. President, if you knew who I was, I would not be doing my job.”

“Is that right?” He looked to the Commander. “An intelligence director is an interesting pick, though I’m not convinced it’s the right one.”

The Commander simply smiled. “She is more than a simple intelligence director, Savvin. Chancellor Vyandar will accomplish exactly what we need.”

Savvin frowned, but was definitely more reserved. “That remains to be seen, Chancellor, but I will do my best to assist in the fight against the aliens. Farewell.”

He turned away and strode off. Saudia shook her head and they proceeded forward. “Friendly bunch.”

“Would you have preferred I tell them who you really are?” The Commander asked. “Do you think that will make them trust you more? Do a good job and you won’t have to worry about them. You’ve supposedly worked for this your whole life. Prove it.”

He had a point, and it would be ridiculous to expect them to unconditionally trust her, especially when viewed from their perspective. As long as they worked with her, she was certain things would work out. But if they obstructed her…there would be issues she would deal with.

“Here we are,” the Commander said, stopping in front of a slightly larger door. “ADVENT Central Command. The temporary version, of course.”

The door slid open and Saudia stepped inside.

The room was empty, allowing her to see the control center for the world. The walls had computers, monitors and analytical equipment along them, with plenty of room for analysts and technicians to sit and monitor essential information. On the far wall were several interconnected screens displaying a map of the world, which she immediately noted could be broken down by population, military size and political affiliation.

In the middle was a holotable setup, with a glowing red hologlobe at the end, similar to the one at the Bastion. A little bit of home, even if it was accidental. “I’ll leave you to look around,” the Commander said, turning around. “I’ll be leaving soon, but you have what you need to get started, and the people will help. ADVENT is in your hands now, Chancellor. Good luck.”

She inclined her head. “You as well, Commander…and thank you.”

He didn’t respond, but smiled and left the room.

All alone, silent except for the humming of the computers, she walked up to the hologlobe, looking up at it almost in childlike wonder. She let her hand graze over the shining steel base, trying not to scuff it. This was it, the dream, what EXALT had always wanted, accomplished. Once things calmed down…she’d have to visit father. See him one last time, so he knew beyond all doubt that they’d done it, despite what had happened.

They had almost been destroyed.

They had almost lost.

But they hadn’t.

Against the growing odds, they’d done it.

She, Director Saudia Vyandar was now Chancellor of ADVENT.

Shaping the future of the world.

“We did it, father,” she murmured as she gazed up at the hologlobe. “We won.”

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

Time to begin putting the final pieces in motion. Some time had passed and everyone was hard at work preparing for the coming war while the aliens were still quiet. Saudia was making the rounds to the various member nations and it seemed to be going well so far. He knew that she’d already firmly established ADVENT Engineering and R&D divisions which were already hard at work.

ADVENT Intelligence had also been created, and Zhang was already in communication with them, especially as they drew closer to Demeter. The military was a bit harder, since the logistics of everything made it difficult to organize without drawing suspicion. But nearly everything was in place, all that was needed was official unification and the divisions could be officially formed.

To the Commander’s surprise, it seemed like the military wasn’t being run by Zara, but by another Venator as well as a combination of current military officials. Which was fine by him, it showed that Saudia wasn’t just looking to use _only_ EXALT personnel in prominent positions. Of course, it could just be to placate him, but he didn’t believe that would be her biggest concern now.

But as for Zara…he’d actually received a very interesting request from her. One he’d have to think about carefully.

The door hissed open behind him and Jackson came through, right on time. The new Situation Room had been converted to a similar one to the Citadel, although the computers were now equipped with alien tech which had made everything much _faster_. The holotable was larger, though still sat in the middle of the room and it had the capability to expand holographic projection throughout the entire room.

The Ethereals definitely liked their holograms.

He wasn’t complaining.

“It’s set up?” He asked.

“Ready and waiting,” she answered with a grim nod. “Let’s get this started.”

The Commander turned to the screens at the back of the room and watched as they flashed and finally revealed the Speaker as unchanged as ever. _“Commander,”_ he greeted, inclining his head. _“It is…good…to hear from you. Much appears to have changed since we last communicated.”_

“Indeed,” The Commander agreed, clasping his hands behind his back while Jackson stood off to the side. “We have been busy while preparing for the aliens as well as discussions on how to handle Brazil and Israel.”

 _“The Council would like to remind you that interference is outside your jurisdiction,”_ the Speaker said. _“Discussions are being had.”_

“Make up your mind,” the Commander chided. “And no, it’s completely within our jurisdiction. Both are allied with XCOM and we don’t want the war to get worse than it already is. I’m sure we can at least agree on _that_.”

 _“That we can,”_ the Speaker affirmed. _“One war is troubling, let alone two. There are…bigger…issues to worry about.”_

“I’m glad you see it that way,” the Commander said. “Which is why I think it’s time we discussed the future of XCOM. In person.”

The Speaker seemed surprised. _“Before the Council?”_

“The Council, and the United Nations at large,” the Commander confirmed. “The Commander of XCOM should not be a hidden figure once the war begins. We need to prepare now, before the aliens truly invade. Before the Council we can discuss more sensitive matters, but the United Nations will be more reassuring for the people.”

 _“After everything I find it hard to believe you want to involve the United Nations in anything,”_ the Speaker commented skeptically. _“Let alone the Council.”_

“Mostly because I feel there is no choice,” the Commander stated. “Like it or not, the UN is one organization who can make a difference. They have a role to play, as does the Council. I don’t throw away resources without reason, and quite frankly, this is bigger than my opinion on them.”

 _“The Council is…pleased…to hear that,”_ the Speaker said slowly. _“Although if you do appear before us, the Councilors will have…questions…on your recent actions. And requests as to how to handle the future of XCOM.”_

“And I will answer them,” the Commander promised smiling. “Though you might not like the answers.”

 _“Remember that it will not just be to us,”_ the Speaker warned. _“You will be before the whole world. Not everyone will be comfortable with a powerful independent military, even one devoted to our protection. There was a reason that the Council is primarily in charge of XCOM, because not everyone would approve of such an endeavor.”_

“Don’t worry,” the Commander assured him. “They will be handled.”

 _“We shall see,”_ the Speaker said, lacing his fingers together. _“It has also come to our attention that the majority of XCOM has…moved…to a location that has not been disclosed to us. The Council would like to know where XCOM is currently located.”_

“Not here,” the Commander rejected. “That is something to say in person. The aliens found us thanks to a mole, and I don’t want that to happen again. Only the Council should know the location and I won’t jeopardize it even through secure channels. But we are as prepared as ever, and working with the United States in keeping the Citadel established.”

 _“I see,”_ the Speaker answered. _“Then it appears you should come sooner than later. The Council will be in contact with your Central Officer to establish times.”_

“Excellent,” the Commander said. “I look forward to it.”

 _“As do we, Commander,”_ he answered. _“Until then. We will be watching.”_

 _Not for much longer_. He thought as the screen flashed off. _Your watch will soon be ending._

“And there it goes,” Jackson said wistfully. “With the Council welcoming their death openly.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell them the real reason,” he said. “Or do you think that would have worked?”

She sighed. “No, I…well, it seems so anticlimactic. I get why they wouldn’t expect it, but it seems too easy.”

“Relatively,” the Commander agreed, turning to the holotable. “But compared to what we’ve dealt with, it’s not a major concern. But it is an obstacle to be removed.”

“And ADVENT to be created in its place,” she nodded. “I really hope things work out how you plan.”

He gave her a wry grin. “I doubt it will work out completely, but I’m confident that things will _mostly_ go according to plan.”

“Your definition of victory still seems odd,” she muttered, appraising him curiously. “It ends with EXALT essentially with control of the world. Shackled to the Directive, sure, but even that is mostly in line with their philosophy. EXALT won, and it was…because you _allowed_ them to. When did you decide _that_ was the best idea?”

The Commander waited a few seconds before answering. “Because it was the only way to truly ensure EXALT never rises again. I knew EXALT was going to never go away if I kept attacking them. Shadow organizations can’t be defeated traditionally. They have plans, contingencies, they scatter and reform. Not what I would call a victory.”

He began pacing as he continued. “As long as EXALT was in the shadows, they would be as invincible as one. Disappearing, but always returning when the opportunity came. They needed to not only be exposed, they had to expose themselves _willingly_. That doesn’t happen in response to threats, imprisonment or execution. It only drives them back underground.”

He stopped and looked directly at Jackson. “But in the end, there is a remarkably simple way to ensure organizations like EXALT never rise again, _and_ how to control them.”

“And what way is that?”

The Commander smiled. “You give them exactly what they want.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Demeter Contingency

(RESTRICTED TO INTERNAL COUNCIL)

OVERVIEW: In the event that the Council, the United Nations (UN), or the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) becomes a hindrance or threat to the stability of XCOM or the world, they are to be removed, crippled or neutralized in a quick and efficient manner so not to destabilize the global balance as much as otherwise.

UPDATE: The Advent Directive has been initialized. The Demeter Contingency is authorized for usage.

PHASE 1: PREPARATION

  1. THE UNITED NATIONS: In preparation for the initialization of the Demeter Contingency, XCOM will place agents within various United Nations locations across the globe, primarily focusing on the following: 
    1. The Headquarters of the United Nations – New York City
    2. The United Nations Office at Geneva – Switzerland
    3. The United Nations Office at Vienna – Austria
    4. The United Nations Office at Nairobi – Kenya



The infiltrations will be overseen by Intelligence Director Zhang and the Commander of XCOM to ensure maximum effect. Infiltrations will be within various states within the locations, from high-level officers to custodians to ensure a complete and successful infiltration.

Upon activation of the Demeter Contingency, XCOM will ensure that the United Nations convenes into a full assembly, ensuring that the majority of the United Nations ambassadors and staff is in attendance.

  1. THE COUNCIL: The Commander of XCOM will request a meeting with the Council in person, allowing access to the Councilors themselves. No infiltration will be necessary, though a team of operatives will accompany the Commander to his destination.
  2. NATO: Unlike the Council and United Nations, efforts will be made to integrate NATO into the replacement world government, and as such any plans will go into effect if NATO becomes an unstable element after the removal of the United Nations.



 

In preparation for that event, key figures in NATO will be located, and based on psychological profiling, will be marked for potential assassination to limit potential action. The psychological profiling will take into account previous actions, race, gender, nation, political leaning and affiliation and previous military service.

  1. REPLACEMENT: Please note that without a sufficient replacement for the United Nations, the Demeter Contingency is unable to go into effect. This replacement must be prepared to be established soon after the Demeter Contingency going into effect, otherwise it will not be allowed to be initialized.



_Note:_ Fulfilled under the Advent Directive

                PHASE 2: EXECUTION

  1. THE UNITED NATIONS: Upon activation, agents placed within the designated locations will lock down the building, as will assistance by various XCOM personnel and allies, systematically execute essential United Nations personnel and ambassadors. The exact means of which will be determined by XCOM Intelligence and the Commander, as well as communication from allied forces.



 

Upon the removal, alien technology, blood and materials will be planted through the scene to firmly establish the guilty party and rally the general populace against the alien threat. Vitakara corpses kept in storage will be sown throughout the carnage, and alien DNA will be implanted on various ranking members to give the illusion of alien infiltration.

 

After that is accomplished, teams will move to plant explosives at various weak points of the building and after evacuating, detonate them and collapse the building.

 

 _Note:_ The Commander or Intelligence Director Zhang has the authority to call off attacks at specific locations. Only the United Nations Headquarters is exempted from this note.

  1. THE COUNCIL: Upon activation, the Commander and a small team will travel to the Council Headquarters and set up at strategic points. Upon a signal from the Commander, the team will remove existing personnel within the building with no exceptions. The Commander will dispose of the Council.



_Note:_ The location is not to be intentionally damaged, and will be reallocated for use within ADVENT. All bodies are to be disposed of.

  1. NATO: Upon activation, and approval from the Commander, the marked targets within NATO will be systematically executed in accordance with the current situation. In the event that NATO orders retaliation on one or more parties, assassinations will continue, utilizing known alien weapons, equipment and tech.



In the event that this is not enough, XCOM Intelligence operatives disguised as Vitakara will infiltrate the NATO Headquarters and execute specific individuals who will be determined by Intelligence Director Zhang. This phase of the Demeter Contingency is only able to be authorized by the Commander of XCOM

ESTABLISHMENT OF NEW WORLD GOVERNMENT: Upon successful completion of the Demeter Contingency, XCOM will immediately move into officially establishing ADVENT together with the member nations, highlighting the alien attacks and rallying the general population against the alien threat. Upon establishment, the United Nations will be officially dissolved and all investigations will be blocked without compelling evidence to suggest fraud.

 _Note:_ In the event that becomes a concern, said witness or investigation will be sent to Psionics Overseer Patricia Trask for evaluation of new evidence. Insufficient proof will be dismissed, and repeated offences will lead to prosecution.

ACTIVATION: The Demeter Contingency can only be activated with the approval of 75% of the Internal Council, in attrition to the established prerequisites. Only the Commander of XCOM has the authority to activate the Demeter Contingency.


	48. Epilogue: Annexation

 

_Sydney, Australia_

“Hey, can you hand me the wrench?”

Robert Haynes sighed and reached over to the toolbox to pick up the one Brandon was pointing at. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Brandon said as he went back to the leaky pipe. Just another day working in the wonder city of Sydney. He did love it, truly, but days like today he just wanted to go home and sleep.

But duty called, and his employers weren’t running a charity.

But something seemed off. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it all morning, but everything seemed really, _really_ weird. Not quite surreal, like a dream. But distinctly _off_. He had no idea what it was, everyone was acting the same…but also not quite the same. Almost as if they were faking it.

He scowled to himself. Ridiculous, and it just proved how tired he was. He was getting _way_ too spooked from the stuff he’d read on the internet. Body snatchers killing and replacing people, government experiments on humans, alien abductions. Even if all that _was_ true, it probably wouldn’t happen to him. He wasn’t that important to the world, and was perfectly content with that.

“Hold, this, will you?” Brandon asked, motioning to the pipe. “Just need to tighten it.”

He complied and held the pipe steady as his friend focused on tightening the pipe.

Then it clicked.

It was incredibly subtle, and truthfully on the outside it looked like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Either this wasn’t Brandon, or Brandon had been lying to him ever since they’d met.

Because he _knew_ that Brandon was planning to kill him.

“Got it?” He asked nervously.

Brandon pursed his lips. “Yeah, I guess so. You good?”

He didn’t know that he’d figured it out. Robert swallowed and gave a nervous smile. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Brandon shrugged and turned away. Robert backed up slowly, wondering what he could possibly do. He had a very small chance to do something, and any minute this killer would figure out he was onto him. Kill or be killed, there was no other option.

With shaking hands he picked up a hammer and cautiously walked behind Brandon, raised it, and brought it down directly onto his head. It hit with a loud _crack_ and he went sprawling.

Almost as if he hadn’t been expecting it.

Robert didn’t give him a chance to fight back and quickly brought the hammer down again and again until the hammer head was buried in the skull. Shaking all over, he didn’t initially notice the blood splattering his arms and chest, but didn’t care at the moment. They had to know he knew now.

He had to get out of here.

But where?

The ground shook and he heard an explosion. Oh god, it was starting. Whatever it was, it was _starting._

He grabbed a long Philips screwdriver and dashed up from the basement and out the front door without even letting the family know what had happened. For all he knew they were in on this too. But what greeted him outside was even more of a nightmare.

Mouth gaping open, he looked around to see Sydney had become a warzone. Another explosion rocked the area and he saw a skyscraper collapse, and looking up he felt terror fill him as he saw silver discs shooting across the sky, hunting down fighter jets with brutal efficiency, the green bolts sending the planes colliding deeper into the city.

Wait…no, he was seeing this wrong.

They were under attack…but it looked like the flying disks were _defending_ the city. Not attacking it. Because…the government was attacking Sydney? But….but _why_? He looked down the street and stumbled back into the wall as he saw the army approaching. Hulking humanoids clad in green armor, pinkish skin and beady eyes on their alien faces.

Mutons. He’d seen them on TV. Never expected to see one in real life. But the news had seemed to get them all wrong. If they were so bad, why were they attacking all the obvious fakes? The weapons in their hands that shot out green projectiles were only targeting the fleeing fakes, somehow exposed by the aliens.

He cautiously stepped forward. He wasn’t a fake. That meant that he was safe…right?

One thing was sure, the alien leading these mutons was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It towered over the mutons, twelve feet easily. It was clad in a silver armor, all four of its arms encased in bracers, gauntlets and steel. A blood-red cape fell from the shoulders, above which sat a helmet that reminded him of a knight; ornate yet functional.

Or maybe he was only reminded of that because of the massive greatsword the alien carried at its side, one right hand holding it firmly as it marched forward.

“Civilian! Get back!” Someone called, and he turned to see a dozen or so soldiers running up. He was able to instantly tell what they were. They were here to kill him!

“Get back!” He yelled, brandishing the screwdriver, knowing they’d be killing him.

“What?” The soldier shouted, genuinely sounding confused, yet still trying to fool him. “Get away before-“

He gasped and was lifted into the air and flung forward. Robert suddenly turned to see the alien charging with a speed the belied his size, drew back the sword, and stabbed forward, impaling the oncoming soldier in the chest. Wasting no time, it jumped forward and slashed down upon the group of soldiers who were scattering.

One was instantly decapitated, and the rest began firing. With no hesitation, the alien singled out two of the soldiers and stormed towards them as they fired seemingly useless bullets. With no finesse it smashed the sword into one, slicing deep into her chest from the shoulder, and at the same time it raised an opposite hand and the remaining soldier was lifted into the air. The hand closed into a fist and the head imploded into bloody chunks.

“Retreat!” One of the remaining soldiers screamed as they ran up the street, firing wildly in the direction of the alien, apparently not worrying about hitting him or others.

The alien seemed in no hurry and methodically turned and pursued them. A lower hand pulled back and one of the soldiers was flung towards the alien who slashed upward, dismembering and decapitating him. Another independent hand twisted and the fleeing soldiers suddenly collapsed to the ground screaming, their legs at unnatural angles.

With no hesitation or mercy, the alien approached each of the wounded soldiers and either executed them with a quick stab to the heart or chest, or somehow snapped or exploded their heads. Robert looked over to the mutons walking past him. One caught his eye, pinning him under its intense yellow stare, but after what seemed like forever, it grunted and moved on.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Ok, so he was safe. But where should he go? Where could he possibly go?

 _The Opera House_. Yes, there had to be somewhere safe there.

He started running down the street, trying to ignore the screaming in the distance and the blood on the street before him. Buildings were on fire and smoke filled that air and he stumbled through the nightmare. Two more planes were shot down by alien ships, which landed deeper in the city. Then for the first time, he saw someone real.

She looked as shell-shocked as he no doubt was, and her hands were bloody like his. They exchanged glances, but no words needed to be said. They needed to get somewhere safe. Fortunately the aliens were controlling this part, as they had muton guards placed around the streets, almost as a way to guide people the way forward.

It was actually very helpful. Where there were aliens, it was safe.

It made a lot more sense why XCOM was so secretive now. They were trying to hide the truth. The aliens weren’t here to conquer or attack, they were here to _save_ them. If they were so bad, why was he still alive?

There were a lot more people here now, men, women, children, all with blank, dazed expressions on their faces. Trying to process the reality that they had almost died horribly. How they _would_ have died if the aliens hadn’t intervened.

But hope was in sight. There was some kind of massive alien transport on the ground, right before the auction house. All around him were dead people, fakes, he supposed. But the amount of aliens was increased as well. No instructions were given because they were so obvious. Board the ship to find shelter.

Robert did notice one alien different from the others. It stood just off to the side of the ramp, flanked by two muton-like creatures in red armor and ornate helmets. They towered over the smaller being in the middle. Although even this _small_ alien was at least eight feet high, and cloaked in some kind of orange robe that obscured the face.

He felt some stirring of curiosity, so he tried peering under it and only caught a glimpse of two purple glowing eyes which met his.

 _Go inside_.

He swallowed and quickly broke eye contact. Right. Probably a good idea. They knew what they were doing.

So he entered the ship, together with hundreds of others, knowing that no matter what happened or what would happen…

They would be safe here.

He knew that.

***

_Skyranger, En Route to Abduction Zone_

It was really happening.

Everyone was silent on the skyranger, a mix of angry, conflicted, scared and concerned. When news of Australia being attacked hit, the Commander had made the rather obvious decision not to intervene. Not only would they have been significantly outnumbered, but there were sightings of multiple Ethereals on the scene.

Australia was lost, and buying the rest of the world precious time to prepare.

And it seemed that they were also going back to their old methods as a town in France had just gone dark. Not only just gone dark, but they’d been explicitly warned that aliens were here right before the line had been cut off.

At least this was something they could deal with.

As for herself…she was resigned. They’d more or less known it would happen, just not where or when. Still, it was one thing to prepare for it, another to see an entire continent fall to a sustained alien attack.

It was a good thing the Demeter Contingency and ADVENT were ready to go, because time was up.

“How long do you think it will take them?” Jerra Ixe asked, one of the newer soldiers from Mexico. A quiet woman, but an excellent field medic. Of all of them, she seemed the most distressed by the carnage from the attacks. Not surprising given her profession, but she could keep her composure.

“A day, a week, who knows?” Mordecai shrugged. “Depends on what their goal is. I would guess they want it as a staging ground, since they can pretty much attack anywhere from Australia. At most it will buy us a week.”

“But where next?” Blake wondered. “Every border nation is vulnerable.”

“Probably China,” Shun said tonelessly. “Maybe South America or the United States. Maybe all at once.”

“Hey,” Patricia interjected, and all of them looked to her. “We knew this was coming eventually and we can’t afford to let it overwhelm us. We’ve held the aliens at every turn before, and we’ll keep doing it. Doesn’t matter where they attack next, we’ll be prepared for it that time.”

Several helmets nodded, and she focused on strengthening their focus. Their resolve. Hope was going to be important going forward, and she’d do her best to keep them inspired by whatever means she could. “Now there are people that need our help. Let’s save these people here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carmelita agreed, pulling her alloy cannon closer to her chest. “They have a lot to atone for.”

 _“Psion Trask, we’re approaching the LZ now,”_ Big Sky warned as the skyranger lights flashed red. _“No signals coming from the town. But I do see bodies.”_

Patricia pursed her lips. It was going to be one of those missions. The ones people wished they could forget. Funny how that was now just a slightly more disturbing one for XCOM soldiers compared to some stuff they’d seen. Regular corpses were just not shocking anymore.

“Get ready!” She ordered, standing up and walking to the end as the skyranger leveled out. Once the soldiers gathered behind her, the ramp opened with a hiss and ropes fell to the ground. Patricia grasped one and let herself slide down until she hit the hard concrete.

And immediately noticed something was off.

She looked around the town. Just regular shops, undamaged. No fires. No signs of a battle. Not even any car crashes. Sure, some were stopped in the middle of the street with bodies slumped inside them…but they were intact, some even still running.

That was when she realized two more things.

The people around here weren’t dead and there was something else here. A psion.

She froze upon that revelation. It probably wasn’t a Hive Commander. They seemed to not want to participate on missions like these, and she was certain that they would have at least killed the civilians. That only left one option.

An Ethereal.

“What is it?” Carmelita asked, coming up to her.

“Jerra, check the bodies,” Patricia ordered, motioning them to move forward. “Blake, do the same.”

They rushed off and knelt beside some on the street. “They’re alive,” Jerra muttered. “They don’t _seem_ hurt…just unconscious.”

“Same,” Blake confirmed, standing up. “But I don’t think it’s natural.”

“What a _brilliant_ observation,” Shun stated, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “What could have _possibly_ given that away? The _dozens_ of people around us?”

“Enough!” Patricia interjected, raising a hand. “We keep moving. And be ready. There’s a powerful psion here. Possibly an Ethereal. Did you get that, Commander?”

 _“I got it,”_ he confirmed grimly. _“Do you want to pull out?”_

Patricia looked around the town filled with unconscious bodies. “Not yet…this was clearly a message for us. I want to see why it was left.”

_“Then proceed.”_

They kept going forward, weapons at the ready, watching and listening for any sort of activity. And yet there was nothing. It was unnaturally quiet. All that was around them were lifeless buildings, dying cars and unconscious people.

But better unconscious than dead.

It was still too quiet.

The sounds of their breathing were the only things they heard as they kept going. Turning down streets and signs, as Patricia led them closer to the source of the power. And it _was_ close, close enough she could touch it’s mind if she wanted. But not yet, she didn’t want to give their exact location away yet.

Of course…if it _was_ an Ethereal, it would probably already know they were here.

Correction: That _she_ was here.

Shun was the first to say the dreaded words.

“Ethereal!”

Standing in the middle of the street stood the alien. It reminded her of the Ravaged One if he had been restored to his full glory. The curved and styled silver helm with the gaping middle was pristine and bore no scars or gouges in the metal. It’s robes were a deep blue with silver streaking down them, looking like they had just been created.

It’s arms were tucked inside the robes, but aside from that, she saw it easily towered over her. At least three meters tall, even from this distance. It was already facing them, so it had clearly known they were here. But there was an aura around it, an effect that elicited feelings of safety, fortitude, and defense.

It was an aura of empowerment.

So it was no surprise that Patricia felt no hesitation when she gave orders. “Carmelita, circle around for a flank. Everyone else, spread out and open fire. I’ll lock down its mind.”

“On it!” Carmelita yelled and charged forward while the rest of them raised their weapons as Patricia let hers drop and gathered her power.

Lasers and lead sped towards the Ethereal who withdrew an arm covered in a blue and silver sleeve and simply lowered it in front of itself, palm forward. A purple shield appeared, absorbing the initial barrage and the barrier grew to completely encircle the Ethereal.

They didn’t let up the attack, instead moving to being circling around it as Patricia launched her attack on its mind. It was easy to direct her power to in the sea of unconscious minds, but that didn’t make it easy. She immediately found out it was an impenetrable fortress, one completely sealed off in a way she hadn’t ever seen before.

She felt nothing from it. No emotions or stray thoughts. She could sense the power radiating off it, but nothing specific.

Which _might_ be a problem. This Ethereal was clearly focused on defense, which was both good and bad. Good in that it might not have dangerous attacks.

Bad in that it might literally be impossible to kill.

The Ethereal withdrew all his arms and extended them to the attacking soldiers, purple energy encasing them. Patricia suddenly found herself unable to move, and she saw the others were the same way, sheathed in a transparent bubble encasing each of them. Stasis fields.

And he was maintaining eight at _once_.

Luckily she wasn’t defenseless.

She threw everything she had at another mental assault on the Ethereal. Trying everything to pierce the unbreakable shield around its mind. But she might as well have been trying to crack diamond for all the good it did her.

The Ethereal withdrew the arm that had been projecting the shield around it and the purple shield vanished, and it turned its head directly to her, and then _she_ was under attack. It wasn’t painful, but she hadn’t expected the ferocity of the attack. The _efficiency_. It was _direct._ _Focused_. Her mental defenses were a cracking wall she hadn’t even known had been damaged.

She was now growing terrified that they’d made a major miscalculation. The first Ethereal may have been much weaker than they’d thought.

But this one was one actually representative of their power.

It suddenly broke through, and she literally saw her life flash before her eyes as the Ethereal seemingly sifted through her thoughts at a speed that might have been seconds or hours. But she was witness of every agonizing second of it. If she hadn’t know it was happening, she suspected she wouldn’t have felt a thing.

But there was that little bit of pressure in her head that didn’t go away.

Then it was gone and they all collapsed to the ground as the stasis fields vanished.

All of them immediately rose and began raising their weapons. “Wait!” Patricia called, stepping forward, eyeing the Ethereal in disbelief. That shouldn’t have happened.

Why had it let them go?

“Circle around,” she muttered. “But _don’t_ fire.”

The rest of them were as surprised as her, but the Ethereal’s aura was immediately making them more sure of themselves, allowing them to gather their thoughts faster and compose themselves quicker. They cautiously approached the towering Ethereal who seemed as disinterested in them as before.

When she was about three meters away the Ethereal turned his head to her. “Put your weapons down, Psion Trask. You will not need them.” His voice was deep, echoing in her mind and reverberating the air around him. Goosebumps broke out on her upon hearing it. Because she now knew who it was. The Commander had described his voice perfectly.

“Aegis…” she said in disbelief. “Why are…”

One arm withdrew and Shun and Mordecai raised their weapons, only to be waved down by Patricia. The opposite arm withdrew, and so did the lower two, all raised up to signal non-aggression. She watched in disbelief as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, though even that only lowered him to eye level with her.

Was he actually…?

“I surrender,” Aegis said. “Take me to the Commander.”

***

To be concluded in _XCOM: The Advent Directive_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, a cliffhanger, I know. But I didn't really see a better way to end it...and now it's all done. The Atlas Protocal is completed, close to a year later than when I first started it. Kind of hard to believe, and it's been without a doubt one of the highlights of that year to actually write out. This ended up being a lot bigger than I'd originally expected, both in word count and in the number or readers. A sincere thank you to everyone who provided feedback in any way, be it through comments, PMs or email. All of it was useful to me and I hope you can see that I do my best to put that feedback into actual practice. May take a few chapters, but it does happen.
> 
> At this point I'd also like to thank my beta reader (Known on here as Johnclaw Dragonhelm) for helping make this story work, and preventing me from making some quesitonable plot decisions as well as more critical feedback which I needed. I'd also like to recognize a couple of people, Bloodsplatboom (What he goes by) and Arroux, who have consistantly provided technical feedback on errors me or my beta missed from both the Hades Contingency and Atlas Protocol. If you notice older chapters seem improved, it is because of their suggestions.
> 
> While the audience here is much smaller than the others I post to, I'm still grateful that there are people who like it enough to leave comments and ratings here. It's very much appreciated. I also want to highlight another person, Sancer, who has and is undertaking the impressive task of translating the Hades Contingency to Spanish. I'd say go check it out, and even if you don't speak it, it's worth putting thorugh Google Translate to see some of the translations (Link: s/12242935/1/XCOM-The-Hades-Contingency-Traduccion-Espa%C3%B1ol-Oficial)
> 
> So, now looking forward. There is quite a bit I'm looking forward to writing, which includes but is certainly not limited to: ADVENT, the Ethereals, Vitakara, warfare geopolitics, and a lot of other stuff. It's not going to be an easy road for ADVENT to unite humanity, and XCOM defend it, but they have the means to make it happen, whatever the cost. It should go without saying that the scope is going to be (Somehow) larger, encompassing much more than Earth, and not quite in the way you might expect. It should kinda be obvious by now, but don't be expecting the regular Enemy Within ending. That of course is being reworked to fit better in the world i've constructed. But I think that the changes will be as well-recieved as some others.
> 
> Now when to expect it? Probably no earlier than two weeks from now, if that. I'm going to be spending time establishing (Internally) exactly how everything works, specific species history, noteable characters, enemy units. Not to mention the story outline itself, and the POV characters I'll be writing. As this will be the last book in the trilogy, I fully intend to take my time and do it right. But I can promise that I will do my best to make it worth it. As it's looking right now, it will likely surpass the Atlas Protocol in length but that really does remain to be seen.
> 
> But now I do have a request for all the readers: Please give your feedback on the Atlas Protocol and trilogy as a whole. Feedback is critical to authors and I'm no exception. A few ideas have come about as a result of conversations I've had between other readers and the story probably won't be as good without them. So tell me if you like it/didn't like it, what worked, what didn't, what could be improved, thoughts on the various characters/organizations/aliens, etc. You get the idea. And if that feedback is a scathing breakdown of the story, than by all means write it. I'll take it just as seriously as the others (Provided it's well thought-out and reasoned, of course). I don't hide negative feedback, and ultimately it does usually prove to be sometimes more useful in the long run. But either way, it will help ensure that the Advent Directive will be the best that I can do.
> 
> For some closing thoughts, I can safely say that I'm happy with my work here, and do consider it ultimately a superior work to the Hades Contingency. I've improved and want to continue doing so, and I believe that will happen. Thanks once again to everyone for sticking with and reading my story, I do this just as much for you now as for myself. Thank you.
> 
> See you in the Advent Directive.  
> -Xabiar


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